Casually he sauntered over to Susan and extended the knife to her.
'I… I can't,' she murmured. How could she destroy her own furniture, how could she?
'Go on, baby, get mad. Just be careful you don't try nothin' fancy with the knife on any of us. That wouldn't be too cool, not if you want to stay alive. You're angry, real angry. Take it out on the chair. Go on.'
Susan took the knife in her hand, trembling from head to foot. This incomprehensible young man was asking her to plunge it into the armchair. The cold instrument felt odd to hold. The young wife sensed a certain feeling of power — cool, icy power as her fingers closed around the knife handle. She felt almost sure she couldn't do as he asked, yet there was something about the feel of it that almost gave her the courage she needed. For a brief moment she thought of thrusting it at Art's naked body in a dramatic attempt to free herself from their subjugation, but she knew that was impossible. Even if she could bring herself to hurt another human being like that, she knew the others would soon grab the knife away and maybe even use it on her. She stared down at the armchair.
'Go on, honey,' Tanya said, encouragingly, 'go on and do it. You'll be surprised how good it feels.
The nervous young wife glanced at each of them, and with a weak gesture, she plunged the knife down into the arm of the chair and felt the blade sink into the soft padding. She pulled it out.
'Again,' Art said. 'Harder, rip the goddamn thing up.'
Susan began to plunge the knife into the chair as if stabbing a stuffed dummy, and as she did a strange thing began to happen. She thought of Miss Whitfield — and the endless torment she had endured because of her and the anger came, wild raging anger. She began to plow the knife harder and harder into the chair, venting her rage on the lifeless object, stabbing it with all her heart. As she thrust the blade in, more memories, horrible memories of her childhood rushed up from her subconscious, and her rage increased, extending even to herself and her contemptible fear and terror that had made a mockery of her marriage with Tim.
'Yesss… yesssss!!' she suddenly found herself crying as she began to rip the seat cushion to shreds. Bits of cotton stuffing began to fly all over the room and she went on and on, letting her roaring, repressed anger free at last. And a great weight seemed to lift from her naked body, as if a thousand-pound stone had been suddenly taken from her back and shoulders. She knew in that moment that Art was right, she needed to do this! She had to do it!
'Look at 'er go,' Sal commented, his lips split in a wide smile. 'Looks like she never had so much fun in her life.'
With a cry of revenge, Susan rushed to the sofa, her eyes wild with excitement and began to tear at it with the knife. The others looked at each other with astonishment, then laughed. At once Tanya turned on the radio, and raunchy rock and roll music blared forth, almost in perfect accompaniment to Susan's angry rampage. Soon the others were joining her, ripping pillows apart, scattering material and padding everywhere, smashing everything in sight.
The young wife was breathing heavily, sweat was pouring from her forehead, as she let herself be enveloped by the torrential release of her pent-up anger. There was an almost savage, sensual quality to it that made her realize that her sexual terror was, as Art suspected, totally bound up with her repressed hostility. She glanced around momentarily, watching the others turn her living room into a complete shambles, and a strange perverse smile crossed her contorted face.
'Good,' she murmured to herself. 'good! Good!'
'Where to, buddy?' the cab driver queried as Tim Jameson slipped into the back seat.
'Green Woods,' he replied, '61 Risely Lane.'
'Quite a ways out.'
'Yeah, I know. Could you hurry please?'
'Keep your shirt on buddy, the traffic through Chicago's real bad tonight. It's gonna take awhile. Ain't no way I can hurry. And in this heat, Christ, ain't it somethin'?'
'Yeah,' the young husband mumbled as the cab crawled slowly out of the congested airport ramp. It had been more than an hour now since his arrival in Chicago and he was hot and tired, anxious to get home to Susan. He still hadn't called her, and by this time he didn't care. All he wanted to do was get home, take a hot shower, and fall into bed.
The driver had been right, of course, the traffic was incredible, worse than he had ever seen, and with a deep sigh the young husband leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.
Christ, he thought with irritation, it's gonna take me about as much time to get from the airport to the house as it took me to fly from Boston. Couldn't even find a phone in working order at the airport to call home. What a joke.
The house on Risely Lane was bursting with activity now. All four of the wild orgiasts were drunk again, having polished off the Scotch and made a solid dent in the stock of gin. They had raided the ice-box and made sandwiches to give them enough energy to combat the wearying effects of all the alcohol, and now they were sprawled naked amidst the wreckage that had been the living room. Susan was nearly delirious from all the drinking and the wild vengeance she had taken on her belongings. Her light brown hair was a tangled disarray, and her eyes glittered with a bizarre kind of satisfaction. Her life had become a total nightmare during the past two days, and yet out of the abyss of her degradation, she had experienced many overwhelming discoveries, not only sexual, but psychological, particularly in her enforced realization of her bottled-up anger. She gazed drunkenly around the room, shocked to see the extent of damage that the four of them had wreaked on the furniture and walls. Huge purple stains blotched the white walls where full bottles of wine had been hurled against them. Tables, chairs, and pillows were broken and destroyed. The carpet was heavily stained with the cum of their sexual excesses, and bits of shattered china and porcelain lay everywhere from broken vases, ashtrays and other objects.
'Say, man,' Sal slurred drunkenly from his position on the floor, 'what the hell time is it? I'm supposed to be at that goddamn family gathering tonight.'
'Too late now,' Art said, laughing. 'Looks like you're stuck here for the night.'
'Shit, I can't do that. I gotta get goin'.'
The muscular dark man made an attempt to get up, but was too tipsy with alcohol to manage it. He slumped back onto the floor with a heavy sigh.
'You can't make it, man. So just relax,' the younger man remarked. 'Besides, the night's still young. You can still get your pecker up, can't you?'
'Sure man, but hell, this room's so full of broken glass we're gonna cut ourselves to ribbons.'
'We'll go to another room, that's all. There's a real nice bedroom on the second floor we ain't even touched yet.'
At once Tanya got up, picked her way delicately through the chaos, and started up the stairs. Sal rose too, though with difficulty, and stumbled toward the hallway stairs.
'You too, Susie,' the young captor said. 'We ain't through with you yet.'
Wearily the young wife pulled herself to her feet and made her way through the cluttered living room toward the stairs. By the time she entered the bedroom, she found Tanya lying there, her young body sprawled lewdly across the bed. Sal lurched across the room and threw himself down, burying his head in Tanya's eagerly proffered pussy, and began to suck at her glistening cunt-lips with drunken abandon while the curvaceous blonde squealed and wriggled excitedly. Susan stood numbly in the doorway, watching them, as Art came in behind her and embraced her, clamping his hands on the firmly resilient mounds of her breasts and rubbing them harshly, at the same time grinding his pelvis against her smooth white buttocks.
'Gonna take you up the ass now, baby, the way Sal did,' he whispered in her ear. 'I ain't had my prick up there yet.'
Susan was too exhausted to protest, although her heart sank when she realized she would be abused yet again in that still-aching rectal passage. As the cruel young man rotated his hips behind her, she could feel his penis begin to stiffen as it rubbed the tender place where her buttocks met her thighs, and despite her weariness, she began to anticipate the excitement she knew she would experience when he entered her and began to saw away at her anal canal. Suddenly her alcohol-clouded brain began to crave having the bestial young man fuck her from behind. Her lush young body quivered from head to foot as she began to wriggle her ass-cheeks lewdly back against
