The suddenness of Mr. Stanton's whip lashing across her pussylips brought her off more intensely than she had ever come. She thought the top of her head would blow off. When the man landed his leather whip on Michael's balls, her cunt surged with the impact of hot jism. The youth shot out his cum with the power of a firehose.
Both of them were wracked with the intensity of their comes. And when Michael's prick began to go flaccid, she was actually sated. The girl was emotionally and physically drained, thanks to the whipping. Stanton had done the very thing necessary to get them both off to the maximum.
'God, I didn't think I could do it,' said Michael, his body heaving in sweaty exertion. 'And look, that bastard actually got off on us!'
A tiny puddle of jizz spread out on the thick rug in the middle of the room. Stanton had gotten his rocks off while he was watching them fuck, while he was whipping them both.
'So?' asked Sheryle, not really caring.
'So the man's a sicko, that's what. We've got to get out of here!' Michael looked around the room guiltily, but Stanton had left as quietly as he had entered. His comings and goings were never watched by anyone.
'Do you really think we should try to escape?' asked Sheryle. 'After what happened to us before? Those dogs could rip our throats.'
'Better that and death than being sex slaves here the rest of our lives. That man can kill us any time he wants and no one will know. Sheryle, we've got to escape!'
'Well, okay,' she said reluctantly. 'I think I've found a way out.'
'You have!' Michael's face lit up. For a moment, Sheryle was happy again. They could escape and continue on their way to California. They could live together in a beach house…
'Tell me, dammit, tell me. How? How do we get out of here?'
'Th-the door's open now. There's a window down the hall that has a broken lock on it. If we can tie some ropes together, we can lower ourselves into the lawn and get away.'
'Dress! Get some clothes on.' Michael hurriedly climbed into the pair of shorts that Stanton had allowed him. Sheryle got into a simple dress hanging in the closet. She remembered with great fondness the ball gown that Stanton had once given her. Black velvet, low cut, feeling like a million dollars against her naked flesh. And the string of diamonds he had put around her neck, too. That had to be worth a fortune. She remembered all that – and how he had ripped the dress off her and humiliated her later by smearing her body with grease and allowing one of his dogs to lick it off.
Then the dog had fucked her.
She had never told Michael about that because it was such a painful memory. Humiliated by a dog! She finished dressing and quickly knotted together the ropes in the room. It seemed long enough.
She opened the window at the end of the hall and tied one end of the rope to a nearby table leg. It would have to do.
'Hurry, Sheryle, hurry! That son of a bitch might come back at any second.'
She seemed to be in a daze. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she slid down the rope. The burns on her hands were inconsequential compared with the prospect of freedom. The air blowing into her face convinced her that she was free once more. Free!
The pair ran off hand in hand across the well cared-for lawn. No dogs nipped at their heels. In less than ten minutes they had reached the highway again. The bright summer sun blazed down on them. For six months they had been prisoners in Mr. Stanton's mansion. She managed to get a car to stop. Michael climbed in first. Sheryle stood there looking at him in the car, Michael beaming and looking like a little boy again. She slammed the door and said, 'Go on without me. It's better that way.'
The car drove off before Michael could protest. Sheryle watched the car round a curve in the road, then turned back toward the house where she had been imprisoned – toward the house and the only real man she had ever found in the world.
