Free Marriage by Charles Arnold Page B

make love to you.” She leaned closer to him, looking directly into his eyes, “Please, Abul, I want, very much, to give myself to you.”
    “Even though...,” Abul taunted.
    “Even though you murdered my dear husband, Abul.” Parting her lips she pressed her mouth against his. He let the brushes turn rapidly, but stopped them before she could cum.
    “Please, Abul, please...” she began to beg. Roughly, he pushed her back against Doctor Gruber who caught her before she fell. Frightened, she cried out and spun away from Gruber who had put his arms around her.
    Abul laughed, “You must not be so shy before the good Doctor. Within the next two weeks you are to be given to him, perhaps more than once.”
    Kathy backed toward the hallway, shaking her head. Doctor Gruber stepped into the firelight. His cold blue eyes bore into her. His gaunt face was impassive. “I am looking forward to your visits, Mrs. Ryan,” he said evenly.
    Abul waved the remote at her, “Go to your bedroom, Mrs. Ryan,” he said. “If you want me to come to you later, ask me now and ask like you mean it. Beg, Mrs. Ryan, beg. The brushes are no good unless I make them turn.”
    For a full minute, Kathy stood mute, trembling, in the hallway entrance. The orange glow from the fireplace danced over her body. The white gown clung to her like a second skin, accentuating her tiny waist and the flare of her hips. The oily gloss over her bright red lips made her mouth look full and wet. The news that she was to be given to Doctor Gruber terrified her. She pushed it out of her head and concentrated on trying to get Abul to let her cum. The thought that if she said the right words, he might allow the brushes to spin, caused her long nipples to push against her gown. “Please, Abul, when you are ready, please come to what is now ‘our’ bed. I will do whatever you wish. Anything, Abul, anything! I will be the obedient wife and submissive whore of...of...the man who killed my husband.”
    “You want Abul in your bed? You want his big prick?”
    She was appalled at the idea that she was here in her own house, almost naked before strangers, begging the murderer of her husband to come to her bed, begging him to take her, promising to be a wife to him and to be his personal whore, even begging to lick his ass crack. She reminded herself that Abul was also responsible for poor Uzetta’s death.
    “Speak up, bitch!” Abul called.
    She closed her eyes, imagining how the brushes would bring her to a quick and intense orgasm, “Yes, Abul, I want to make love to you. I long to feel your...your big prick deep in my ass.” She placed her hands on her hips and drew them up to cup her breasts. “You excite me Abul, look at my nipples. Because of you my...my cunt is hot and it is wet.” Still offering him her breasts, she took a step into the room. “I want you, Abul. I want to make love to you I want...to...to prove to you in the bed I once shared with my husband, that I am now your woman.”
    “Very well, Mrs. Ryan, here’s what you must do. Make yourself pretty for me. You know what I like. Wear one of those short nightgowns. Then get on that bed you once shared with your husband. Kneel down with your head on the mattress and your bare ass raised and facing the door. Spread your cheeks and stay just like that until I’m ready to come to you.”
    “Yes, Abul,” she said, “and will you....”
    “I make no promises,” he sneered. “Just do what you’re told.” She looked at him and he could see the anger flash in her eyes. She nodded and went down the hall to her bedroom. Kathy closed the bedroom door behind her with the laughter of Abul and the fat twins ringing in her ears. She stood there and let the tears come freely. Around her were all the things she and Jeff had happily furnished the room with: white wicker chests and her dressing table, beautiful bedside lamps, frilly lace curtains at the windows, the thick white rug, the VCR and television,