The House In The Valley Ch 02

*Survival is not just knowing what you have, but in knowing what is arrayed against you *

"Exactly why am I digging this hole again?" I ask while standing knee deep in this pit I've created.

"It should take you about four hours to dig a grave big enough for us to bury you in," Phoebe tells me.

"But why am I digging it?" I persist.

"Because if you don't dig it, Penelope and I will have to dig it and we don't want to," she smiles. Penelope comes out in a diaphanous sundress that the cool morning breeze make dance around her slender form. She has a tray of lemonade and three glasses.

"How are you doing this morning, Bartholomew?" Penelope says in some way reminds me of my Mother. "I've brought you some lemonade. Do you want me to pour you a glass?"

"Sure, why not; are you going to shoot me if I don't drink it fast enough?" I joke bitterly.

"No," Penelope smiles dreamily, "but it should take you five minutes to drink it." Five more minutes of life; that's how I've been living this morning. A few minutes there, an hour here, and every time I lack the human dignity to tell them to fuck off and get it over with.

Phoebe is cradling what I've been told is a .223 caliber rifle. It sounds small unless it is pointed at you. Penelope has a pistol on her tray. It isn't mine. They tell me mine was a piece of trash and they've thrown it out. Daddy wouldn't have approved of something that crappy in their house. I've never prayed so hard for a guy to come back from the grave as I have for this man to come back and discipline these girls.

Penelope pours me a glass and skips over. She extends the glass to me. I step out of the pit and put Penelope between me and Phoebe. I have a shovel. Penelope has a smile. I take the glass and take a sip of the lemonade. Damn, it's the real deal.

"May I have a kiss?" I hazard to ask. Penelope leans forward, eyes closed and lips pursed. I still have my shovel. I drop it and put an arm around her waist and dip her as I kiss her. I pull her very breath into me while her hands run over my shoulders and neck. I pull her up from the dip and there is a light in her crazy eyes.

"I'll go start lunch," she pants. She flounces away. I look at the shovel and gauge the distance between her and Phoebe and me.

"We are having spaghetti, Brussels sprouts, and fruit salad for lunch," Penelope calls out.

"How long does that take to eat?" I inquire.

"Forty-five minutes, but I'm thinking you get a thirty minute shower before you get to eat with us, so dig quickly," Penelope gives her sing-song reply. I'm celebrating making it to 1p.m. I'm digging away, busting up roots and making some progress when Phoebe approaches me, gun pointed right at me too.

"Can you do what you did this morning to us again?"

"Actual, except for the shower, that's the best offer I've had all day," I respond.

"Would you like to get your hands on my body right now?" she playfully taunts me. She's in boots, sox, cut-off jeans shorts, and a calico vest that has been altered so it exposes her taut belly. Her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

The gun is pointed at my midsection. I put the shovel aside again and put a hand on her stomach. I make small circles and she moans softly. I step back and get to work once more.

"Why didn't you try for it?" Phoebe inquires with honest curiosity.

"You are faster than I am. I'd rather not get a hole in my guts before I've had the chance to have lunch.

"You are afraid," she states.

"That too," I confess.

"We are going to kill you eventually anyway," she admits.

"Key word: eventually," I grin.

"Oh," she says, "you are cleverer than I thought," Phoebe sounds surprised.

"Thank you I think," I respond.

"You are almost done," she notes a while later. "Can I take you to the shower?"

"Are you going to join me?" I offer.

"I would like that very much. Let's go inside and I'll get my .44 revolver," Phoebe reasons. Seeing my confusion, "It makes a really big exit wound."

Somehow my plan to wrestle her down with her rifle in hand isn't going to work out.

"I'll shower alone. I'd hate for you to slip on the soap," I remark snidely. Phoebe shrugs.

She gets her pistol, I get in the shower and she pulls the curtain aside and ogles me.

"Do you like what you see?" I inquire.

"Very much so; you are the most attractive naked man I've ever seen close up," she smiles. Since I'm the only naked man they've seen this means a lot less.

(Lunch)

Lunch is really good. Only two things make the meal less than stellar. Only when I'm downing the jello does it dawn on me that I'm on my last ten minutes of life. My nervousness makes me get the names of the girls' confused. The more I do, the more the girls find it amusing and the angrier I get.

"Fine," I gripe. "Where a Sharpie?" Phoebe (?) directs me to a kitchen drawer. I go, find a black Sharpie and walk up to Phoebe. "Phoebe?" I ask. She nods so I draw a symbol on her forehead. I go to Penelope and put another symbol. They both start giggling uncontrollably. I've never seen two people enjoy the numbers '1' and '2' so much.

"Why did you do that?" Penelope giggles.

"Sometimes I think you two change your names just to confuse me," I accuse her.

"We actually do ... this was really clever on your part figuring a way around our little game. You can watch an hour of TV and then we need you to cut some wood," she informs me.

Wow, I may have just earned myself another three hours of life.

(Afternoon)

I'm cutting wood and my hands are feeling raw even with the gloves. I doubt I've ever worked so hard in my life – funny turn of a phrase. Penelope is watching me now from a low slung wooden lawn chair. She prefers a pump-action shotgun. She tells me that if I actually manage to make it a hundred meters I might survive the shot; lovely girl.

Phoebe comes out and asks me if there is anything I want. I ask for a tall glass of cold water, a bowl of ice, and a towel. She seems curious so she goes back to the house to get my requested items.

"What are you up to?" Penelope inquires.

"As I see it, I have an hour's worth of wood to cut and three hours of sunlight," I hint at my plan. She doesn't get it, which is probably a good thing. I figure as long as I stay entertaining, the longer I can stay alive. Phoebe comes back with the requested items.

"What are you going to do with these?" Phoebe asks. I hold up a finger for silence. I proceed to drink the water, because I'm thirsty.

I leave the ax in the chopping block, pick up the bowl of ice and go over to Penelope. She and Phoebe level their guns at me, but I don't flinch. If they shoot me now at least I won't have to chop the rest of this damn wood. I pick up the largest ice cube and slowly extend it toward Penelope's chest. The barrel of her gun is pressed against my solar plexus.

I press the ice cube against the tip of her nipple and Penelope gasps. I start circling her pert little breast, wetting the thin fabric of her sundress.

"Oh Phoebe this feels really nice," she breaths. I kept up it with the first hand while taking up another sliver of ice and working on her remaining breast.

Soon she's moaning away and the ice has almost melted against her. Now I'm twisting and turning her sensitive nipples. I'm not done with Penelope yet. I leave one nipple alone and hike up her dress until I can see her panties. I then take a piece of the melting ice and put it in my lips.

I put my head between her thighs and start drawing a line from mid-thigh down to her pubic mound. When I get there I start on the other side. This time I press the ice into her crotch. Penelope instinctively tilts her hips to give me better access to her most sensitive areas. She's already wet I discover and and am pleased to see she's soaked.

Penelope's hand pushes my hand off of her breast and now she's working her own nipples with each hand. I reach down and cup her ass, pulling her to the edge of the seat. I take another piece of ice and repeat the process on her snatch. Penelope is thrashing her head back and forth and moaning non-stop. I get up and go back to the woodpile.

Penelope and Phoebe are staring in shocked amazement at me.

"Phoebe, I have to go to the house," Penelope hurriedly announces and races back home. Phoebe stares at her retreating sister then back to me.

"You really want to stay alive, don't you?" she wonders.

"That was the plan," I grin.

Penelope goes to town and gets some things, including a chain, collar and lock. The collar is leather and made for a big dog which means it nearly chokes the life out of me. I can't figure why normal people put a lock on it. Do the dogs in these parts have thumbs? Our night is surreal. We start by sitting around the table having a light dinner.

We all talk about our day. I talk about how to very hot, but very psycho bitches had me working like a slave all day wondering when I would get shot. Penelope and Phoebe are duly sympathetic to my plight. They talk about how they've had bragged to their online friends about thwarting a home invader.

Apparently the girls they talk to have widely divergent ideas on what should happen next. In general, the idea of having the bastard dig his own grave was applauded. Someone else told them what kind of collar and chain to get. A cage was suggested but there seemed to be some unpleasant hygiene issues Thing 1 and Thing 2 were unwilling to overlook.

After some heated debate and discussion Penelope and Phoebe were informed that I was safe to have in bed as long as I couldn't reach my key. No one thought I was homicidal enough kill them and then starve to death on the bed if I did. Sadly I had to agree with that assessment. Sexual tips were also forthcoming.

Phoebe thought a mail order strap on would be nice. I informed her that she had better blow my brains out with her .44 first because I hadn't fought off a dozen guys in juvie to go out that way now. Phoebe wasn't amused, or more likely, she was erotically amused, so she made me swallow her gun barrel. I mumbled something so she took the gun out.

"Can I at least taste you first?" I repeat now that she can hear me. She suddenly looks all big-eyed and coy.

"Do you really want to do that to me?"

"Yes, very much so," I sort of tell the truth.

"Okay," she smiles.

I take her by her (non-gun) hand and lead her into the huge living room space. I sit her down in a large leather chair and kneel before her. I reverently take off one boot then the other. Penelope sits a few feet away watching intently. I massage Phoebe's feet and working up her calves. By the look of her passionate features I'm doing something right.

I undo the bottom on her tight little jeans. I flip the zipper up and lean in, taking the zipper in my teeth. I'm only able to work it down a few inches, maybe half way, but she likes the effect and pats me on the head affectionately. I finish pulling his zipper down and then run my hands around the top of her jeans.

I tug down for a few inches before Phoebe raises her hips up to help me pull the jeans and panties down. Somehow she's found the time to shave today. It looks a little raw and sensitive. I make lapping gestures against her flesh hoping for a positive effect.

"Oh ..." she said in a very contented voice.

By the accident of angels my rough unshaven chin drags across the top of her cunt and she can't help buy grab my head and hold it still where it is.

"Again," she gasps. I respond by moving my chin around and she makes this pitiful little panting noise.

After a minute of this I carefully move down to see what it is that I've excited. It is her clit and she likes the prickliness of my beard against it. I file that away for future reference, in case I have a future. I introduce my lips to her clit. Kissing appears to be nice, but sucking it appears to be better, and teeth seem to be best of all.

Catching it between my teeth and pulling it is what she loves the most. In my explorations I've missed how distressed Phoebe's gotten and I'm rewarded by a surprise flash of juice along with a shrill scream. Phoebe has collapsed in an exhausted state in the chair. I sit back and examine my work. I catch Penelope looking at me with this rapt fascination.

"How about some dessert?" I suggest. Penelope gasps then snickers. Yes, I really wanted to live.

(Evening)

I roll over to Penelope's side, waking her. She has this curious expression on her face, but it is also inviting. I push myself over on top of her and push her legs apart before settling in. She still has this odd expression about her which looks like she can't decide whether to kick me or welcome me.

"What are you doing?" she whispers. I know Phoebe is awake watching the show, but I play along that she's still asleep.

I take up her teddy by the hem and hike it high and higher past her breasts and then over her head. Before she can pull her hands free I bundle and twist the garment so that her hands are semi-contained. She can get out if she really tries, but that's not the point. I tie the teddy to one of the top rails of the bed. Again, it is hardly a masterful job.

"Stop this at once," Penelope squirms. "I'm warning you," she hisses.

"No," I whisper with a careful look to the sleeping (?) Phoebe, then back to her. "I'm going to make love to you and you can't stop me." Penelope lashes against her restraints but gets nowhere.

"Stop that or I'll hurt you," I growls. Penelope looks fearful and slowly nods.

"I'll be good," she breathes. I close in for the kiss. She resists by turning her head aside. I grab her jaw in one hand and pull it back so I can kiss it. Penelope mumbles a protestation. I don't relent until my tongue enters her mouth and makes her tongue submit. Penelope moans.

I wiggle down, pushing her head back and forth so I can lick and bite her neck wherever I wish. Penelope's resistance is feeble. In yet another fit of inspiration I put one hand on her throat and squeeze softly. I feel Phoebe stir slightly to my side. She's uncomfortable with what I'm doing but is being held back by her sister's actions.

Penelope trashes beneath me as she tries to expel me from between her legs. If I was an actual rapist her lack of the silken bottoms to the lingerie sleepwear would be amusing. As it is, things are working out well for our little game. I squeeze Penelope's throat tighter but quickly figure out I need to alternate my hold before I actually choke her. When I let up she does thrash out again.

In the meantime, I can lower myself to her breast. In contrast my attentions to her neck, I am gentle and loving to her nipples. After some writhing struggle with her legs, my licks and kisses begin to wear her down. I pull myself up on one arm. I gently coax her leg on the opposite side up until one of her knees is above my hip.

"Are you going to behave, or do I have to hurt you?" I threaten. Her eyes get very wide. "Nod if you are going to be a good girl." Penelope nods. "Kiss me." She hesitates. "Kiss me or I'll hurt you some more." Penelope propels herself up and kisses me. I kiss her deeply and finish off by biting her lip which brings forth a tiny whimper.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," I command softly.

"No, please," Penelope begs. I snarl and get into her face.

"Do it or I'll kill you," I threaten. When she continues to resist I put my hands round her throat and slowly squeeze. I'm starting to think she's going to let me choke her out when she makes one mighty (?) pull against her restraints and starts crying.

I release my hold on her.

"Say it," I snarl. I can feel Phoebe's eyes boring into me.

"Fuck me," Penelope rasps. I look at her with as much anger as I can manage. "Fuck me please," she adds. I respond by sharing a kiss her which is a hungry vibrant thing on her part.

She is so wet when go in. Last night I rammed into her, so tonight I take it slow and easy, letting her savor each inch of penetration. I keep her gaze on me, our eyes taking in each action and reaction. When my pelvic bone touches her own she takes a sharp intake of breathe. I slowly ease out then back again in measured, loving strokes so at odds with my attempts at strangling.

"Aaahhh," Penelope murmured. She began matching my strokes with tilts of the hips and pushing up to meet me with a look of real passion. I want to say something. Her liking it is crucial to my survival, but I weigh the magic of our silence to be of greater value.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," she repeats. I sense this means she is getting close so I make my thrusts more insistence and kiss her in order to steal her breath away. She has this happy look about her.

I reach out and put my hand back to her throat and squeeze once more. Now she looks positively enraptured. She even gives me a tiny nod of encouragement. I'm not choking her for twenty seconds when her body spasms against mine and she gives out a strangled cry of joy. I remove my hand from around her throat and move up to free her hands.

Her free hands come down and hold my head as she kisses and licks my lips. She appears overcome with the heat of her ecstasy. I twist myself so that I remove my still hard penis slips out of her. She moans once more as my wet member draws a line along her thigh. She doesn't say 'thank you' or 'I loved that'. Instead I get,

"I want you to mow the front lawn tomorrow."

Even with a riding mower that and a weed trimmer I should make it to lunch. With the meal I should make it another half day – another half-day of life. This is a far greater gift than any mere platitudes.

I try rolling over to the far side of Penelope, but she stops me and directs me to move back to where I was, between my two psychos. I wonder if we count as boyfriend-girl-friend. All is quiet for fifteen of minutes when Phoebe nudges me. I look over and her wide innocent eyes regard me with urgent expectation.

"No," I whisper. She looks confused, then sad, and finally angrily insistent.

"Yes," she responds.

"I'm tired," I counter. She reaches under her pillow and pulls out her hand cannon. She points it at my head and gets this desperate pleading gaze.

"Yes," she insists.

"I'm tired, you've worked me like a slave all day, and I need some sleep. If you are going to shoot me, shoot me. If not, I'll take care of you tomorrow night. I'll think of something different just for you. Right now, I'm going to sleep."

I roll over onto my side, my back to her. Ten seconds later she presses the cold barrel against the back of my ear. I ask God to forgive me for all kinds of things I might have done. The hammer goes back with this terrifying metallic click. I find my breath coming in short gasps. The gun moves away from me and she replaces the cold of the steel with a warm kiss.

"I'm looking forward to it," she purrs. "I know you won't disappoint me."

I may have just made it a whole day. If I hadn't been so tired I'd have reveled in my micro-victory. Instead I was quickly slipping off to a deep slumber, worn down by labor and fear.