“Keith was the same way.”
“He liked to hurt her?”
“Sure, he did. I walked in on them, one time. This was just before I got married to Wesley. I had to go to Dad’s house to pick up… a book. I needed Billie’s etiquette book for my wedding plans. And I walked into the house without ringing the doorbell. I thought nobody was home. But I heard noises upstairs, so I snuck up to see what was going on. I was afraid there might be a burglar, or something. It wasn’t any burglar, though—it was all three of them in Kimberly’s bedroom.”
“All who?”
“Kimberly, Keith, and Dad.”
“Having sex? All three of them?”
“Yes, having sex. And torturing her.”
“Torturing Kimberly?”
“She was strapped down to her bed, spread-eagled, and…”
“Never mind,” I said.
“Dad was in her mouth.”
“Cut it out. I don’t wanta hear…”
“Keith was kneeling between her legs. He was reaching up with pliers in each hand, working on her nipples, while his mouth…”
“Shut up! I don’t believe you. You’re making it all up. Kimberly wouldn’t… She said you’re a liar. This is all a load of bullshit.”
“Anyway, Wesley knew all about Dad and Keith. You see? He knew what a couple of sick degenerates they were. So when the boat blew up… he was afraid they’d blame him and he knew how they liked to torture people. He was terrified. Not just for himself, either. He was terrified for me and Billie… all of us. Can you imagine being stranded on an island with a couple of sadistic bastards like them? He had to kill them.”
“So why did he want to kill me? I never tortured anybody.”
A strange smile tilted up one side of Thelma’s mouth. The other side, dark and swollen from the beating Wesley had given her, didn’t move. “You’d like to, though, wouldn’t you?” she said.
Which wasn’t exactly what I’d expected her to say.
“Like to what?” I asked.
“Torture somebody.”
“You’re nuts!”
“Somebody like Kimberly,” she said.
“No!”
She smirked at me. “Who are you trying to kid? It makes you hot, just thinking about it. You’d just love to take her nipples and pinch them till she wept and squirmed and begged for mercy.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Or bite them.”
“It’s time for you to go,” I said. I set the ax aside, picked up the rope again, and shuffled over to her on my knees. “Put out your hands.”
“Look at you,” she said.
She was looking at the front of my shorts.
“So what. Hold out your hands.”
Instead of holding them out, she started to unbutton her blouse.
“Stop that,” I said.
“You can pretend I’m Kimberly,” she said, and pulled her blouse open. The firelight shimmered on her huge breasts. “Here. Feel. I know you want to. You’re aching to.”
“No. Stop it.”
She reached under her breasts and lifted them, raised them toward me. “Here,” she said. “They’re all yours. You want to squeeze them, don’t you? And slap them around? Make them swing and bounce? Wouldn’t you love to take my nipples and twist them till I cry out for mercy?”
“No.”
She lowered her breasts, but only to free her hands. Then she started to finger her nipples. She pinched them, pulled at them, twisted them. While she did it, she clamped her lower lip between her teeth. She breathed through her nose, air hissing in and out her nostrils.
I watched.
“You do it,” she gasped. “I know you want to. You’d love to.”
I had to admit, I was tempted. This was sort of like the kind of thing I’d been hoping for. But only sort of. Thelma was the only woman on the island who’d never figured in my fantasies.
I couldn’t help being aroused, though. She’d been talking dirty, getting me all turned on with that stuff about Kimberly, and now she was showing me her breasts. They were huge, covered with bruises and welts and scabs. They excited me, anyway.
Frankly, I was pretty disgusted with myself. And with Thelma.
I felt like, if I took her up on the offer, I’d feel very guilty and very dirty. I’d want to wash my hands afterward.
“Come on,” she gasped. “Come on.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“I’m Kimberly. Just shut your eyes, and I’ll be Kimberly for you. Come on. Take my tits, and I’ll unzip you and…”
“Forget it,” I said. “Now stop it. Button up and hold out your hands.”
“Okay, okay. Just a minute.”
She started to get up.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“I just want to be on my knees, that’s all. I don’t wanta be sitting down. It’s too hard to get up once your hands are tied.”
That made sense. I waited until she was kneeling in front of me, then said, “Give me your hands, now.”
Instead of obeying, she smiled at me, rubbed her hands down her thick belly and started to unbuckle her belt.
“Don’t.”
She didn’t stop. “I’ll show you what else Wesley did to me.”
“I don’t want to see.”
“Sure, you do.”
She was right, of course.
I knew I should stop her. In some ways, though, I didn’t really want to. Also, I didn’t know how. If I tried anything Thelma didn’t like, she might yell. The last thing I wanted right then, was for one of the other women to wake up and find us like this.
So I just knelt there, watching while she unbuckled her belt, un-fastened the waist button of her shorts, and pulled her zipper down.
The shorts dropped to her knees.
I expected to see panties, but didn’t.
She had no pubic hair, to speak of. Just a bulging triangle with dark whiskers like a guy might get on his jaw if he goes a day or two without shaving.
Is that what she’d wanted to show me—where Wesley’d shaved her?
Maybe there were injuries to see, but I didn’t keep looking. I turned away fast. Off beyond the fire, there was no sign of movement at the sleeping area. I thought, Thank God.
Somehow, I had to make Thelma stop all this.
I had to do it on my own.
Things had gone way too far. I never should’ve untied her hands. One thing had led to another, and now I couldn’t see how to end it. Not without shouting for help.
What would they think, if they found us like this?
