Tami Beethoven

As if to increase his consternation, El Hamad asked his sentry, "What's the penetration?"

"Eight inches."

Open-mouthed in astonishment, he just couldn't forsake his duty and said what he had to say. "You must be aware that this violates the Geneva Convention."

El Hamad laughed. "Oh really. And what country are you from?"

He bit his lip. This was untenable. His country was aware of El Hamad's human rights abuses, and had been willing to look the other way because they needed his help. But now El Hamad was rubbing this outrage right in his face.

He saw a way out. This might be a vital interrogation. "What information do you hope to get out of her?"

Another laugh. "This is not a spy movie." A small recorder emerged from El Hamad's pocket. Resplendent in his full-dress uniform, he faced the the naked prisoner. She spat at him.

El Hamad laughed and wiped it off with a handkerchief. "Good thing we'd rather have you alive... Now confess to the bombing."

She glared at him, her huge breasts heaving, the rings rising and falling.

El Hamad slowly twisted one of the rings ninety degrees. She was stoic but by the time he twisted to 180 degrees she was clearly trying to hide her pain.

The recorder came out again. "You know the words to say. Whether you actually did it or not is of no moment. Say what needs to be said."

She refused. The sentry, with a hammer from his coat, struck the iron shaft fiercely. The clang reverberated through the dank empty basement. The naked prisoner tried to shift her feet and stifled a cry, her breasts bouncing ponderously. The pain in her abused sphincter and rectum must have been horrible.

She looked right at him with green fire in her eyes. She had not said a word. Was she demanding that he help her? Or condemning him for not doing so?

Now, the sound of rushing water from behind. He turned around -- was the basement being flooded?

. . . .

Rod awoke with a start. He found himself still in his suit and shoes, lying on the bed. He staggered to his feet, disoriented. He had had dreams about Tami before -- sometimes as a naked superheroine, saving the world in comic book fashion from evil, sometimes as a naked Olympic swimmer whom he was coaching, often as a naked Queen on her throne whom he approached in supplication, even as a naked paper girl who delivered the newspaper every day. But this was the first time his dream-Tami had been imprisoned or abused.

It was past seven o'clock. He had been asleep for four hours. Glad he was in the comforting real world again, he lurched to the bathroom and the sound he knew so well, of Tami taking one of her bubble baths.

She had just turned the faucet off with her foot. This was one of those old-style free-standing tubs with legs. Lying fully submerged except for her head and her bent knees, her eyes closed, a little smile on her face. "Mmmmm..." Despite the bubbles he could see almost her entire body, her breasts buoyant.

She opened her eyes as if expecting him. He told her about his dream.

She giggled, a low, womanly giggle which made the water ripple. Lifting her feet up to the sides of the tub and wiggling her bubbly toes, she said, "Fortunately my circumstances are not quite that desperate."

He put the toilet cover down and sat next to the tub. He noticed the unadorned third toe and picked up the wedding ring she had she placed on the floor. "I think it's getting too tight," she said. "It gets uncomfortable sometimes."

He looked down at her. "You don't seem to be gaining weight."

"No," she looked down at her tummy. "The rec center takes care of that."

Rod watched absently as Tami's nipples broke the surface and then submerged in the little ripples, and thought again about his dream. "You were in a dungeon. That was like at the pony farm, right?"

"No, I wouldn't call it a dungeon. They kept us in a stable with straw on the floor but everything there looked pretty expensive. The food was certainly better than here."

"Ho ho," Rod said with a smile. A reference to his disastrous attempt at lasagna last night. Which Tami, with her winter appetite, ate anyway.

"So what were you working on today?"

"Dragging seedlings out to the campus lawn. It was a slippery, muddy mess in that rain. I fell three times. I needed this bath b-a-a-d."

"No, not the grounds crew, I mean at Chalfont."

"Galvanic skin tests."

Rod exhaled in exasperation.

"And," Tami said with a smile, "we got the polymer to thread. I made a boot out of it. Gretchen put her foot into a puddle and said it kept her warm."

"Great! -- So where is this headed?"

"Ling told me the government is interested. They might send us some things to sign."

"Wow..."

"And not only that," Tami said, "I got an interesting gift from a visitor. Look under the sink."

Rod at first did not know what this huge object was that he was dragging out of the cabinet, but as he supported it in his hands he suddenly looked at it in horror. "God... this isn't..."

"It's not exactly what they stuck in me. Mrs. Wickland says it's improved and they're not into punishment any more. There's a remote there too. Push the purple button."

Rod found the remote and dropped the huge tail in surprise as it buzzed. "So now this is a vibrator?"

"Ja. Sehr nett?" Which meant, "Very nice?"

Rod held it in his hands. "I can't believe this whole wooden part went inside you."

"I had had a lot of practice at the time."

Rod remembered Tami's account of the huge dildos pistoning into both her holes at Chalfont under McMasters's direction. "It seems impossible."

"No, it's possible."

He thought again about the old plantation grounds, the pony girl system. That the slaves were there by choice made it in way worse. "What a sick enterprise. Playing master and slave."

"I had a dream about it once that wasn't too bad."

"Oh really. I suppose you were the lady of the manor?"

"No, I was the barefoot Irish kitchen girl. You were a field slave out picking cotton."

Rod cocked his eyebrow. A black person and a white person would have different ideas about such a dream.

"We would wink at each other, and one day we both escaped into the countryside, made love under the stars, and built a little hut to live in."

"If I was a field slave I wouldn't get a chance to see you, much less wink at you."

"It was a dream, Rod!"

Well maybe that was not so bad. Tami sat up in the tub, water coursing from her nipples, and kissed Rod's adorable shaved head. He watched as she settled back in. Her famous pubic fronds, buoyed by the water, waved to and fro like wheat in a lazy summer wind. Plum-colored wheat, of course.

"Got home early?" she said, sliding down some more.

"Yes. No work at the moment."

"Me too. It's a night for chilling out."

He took one last look at her submerged charms and then started out the bathroom.

The ominous whoosh of water into a cave. He looked back and she had braced her feet against the sides with toes spread. He knew this well -- she was a cobra rising to pounce. He tried to make a run for it and almost made it into the kitchen. But fifteen feet was well within her range. She raised her body up and a long thin squirt of bath water arced out from her womanly depths and hit him square in the back of his jacket. The female hunter-gatherer had once again arrowed her prey.

"Damn," he laughed. The only thing to do was swear revenge.

Part 15

In the kitchen, his wet jacket drying on a chair, Rod puttered around for something to make for supper. It was his turn again. He decided on what he was good at, salad with hard boiled eggs, cheese, and a side of toast.

As he was getting out the lettuce he heard the splashing and dripping of water. Tami was getting out of her bubble bath. She used to try to invite him in with her but the tub wasn't really big enough and, besides, she liked the water really hot, which he found suffocating.

"Aiee! Damn!" she suddenly shouted.

When he got there he saw his dripping nude wife looking at a big white towel on the floor.

"That thing is like fire!" she said. She reached down for it but drew her hand away at the touch.

Rod picked it up. It felt like the same old towel as always. The two searched for an explanation. "Maybe you're allergic to the detergent. Did you buy a different brand? I know I haven't."

"No."

He went to the linen closet. Unfortunately their other towels (all four of them) were in the dirty clothes hamper, leaving just some scratchy wash cloths. He threw three to Tami. In spite of his concern, Rod always found it sexy seeing her dry herself off.

He put the white towel in the hamper, intending on doing the wash later, then went back to the kitchen. Now a voice from the living room. "Rod."

He found her there sitting cross-legged on the upholstered couch, leaning against a pillow.

"I don't feel so good. I feel... I don't know, like I'm going to throw up."

Now he was really concerned. In all the time he knew her Tami had not once gotten sick. In Pilgrim Hall she was famous for it. They both figured it was because the constant exposure to the elements had toughened her. It was something she cited with pride during her embrace of "the theory of nudism" last year.

He didn't know what to do but she seemed so confused as to be helpless. He pulled her up by the hand and led her to the kitchen. Once on the cold tile floor she sighed. Then she sat down on it, breathing deeply. She opened her eyes and seemed to have recovered. Then she drew a glass of water.

"Rod," she said, "let's get some air."

Tami led him out the back door. The half moon was out. The forecast had been wrong; it looked like it was freezing up again tonight. They stood on the re-freezing crusty snow in the back yard. He watched as she took some more deep breaths, exhaling in little clouds of condensation, over her nipples that were stiffening with the cold. Wisps of mist emanated from her body, still hot and moist from the bath. Then she squatted and peed. She never had a bashful kidney when it was just her and Rod, or some of her close friends. Sometimes they would stand in a circle around her, conversation going on without interruption as she relieved herself.

Rod and Tami both watched the steaming yellow hole that formed in the snow.

As the jet of urine slackened she looked up and said, "I want some eggs. Let's go eat at the Plaza."

In this town, that meant the Plaza Diner, three blocks away on Water Street. The snow crunched under her feet as she slowly sauntered to the side gate with an even gait.

"Wait, Babe, while I get my coat." Rod also changed into his boots.

In a minute they were walking hand in hand down the small side street. He tried not to look over at her. Fortunately she seemed OK. By the time they got to the diner and she waved to Theo, the owner, and they got their favorite table at the back, it was back to being a normal night.

It would be too much to call the three-eggs-and-steak plate the "Tami winter special", but that would have been appropriate, because hardly anyone else ordered it. Rod picked at his own pancakes as she started wolfing it down.

He brought up something that had been bothering him. "I still can't believe you were so... casual about accepting that tail thing, that monstrosity, as a gift from that lawyer. Don't you remember what they did to you?"

"It was mistaken identity. Anyway, it seems like it was a hundred years ago." She leaned over and rubbed his scalp like it was a Buddha's belly and she was wishing for good luck. In the process her breast leaned into her potatoes. She wiped it off with a napkin as she said, "What am I supposed to do, relive it over and over? If I dwelt on all that old stuff I'd go crazy."

She had a point. That summer was three years ago, almost. She was just turning 19 then. From 19 to 22 is a long period in a person's life. More than 22 to 25 was, as with him. It was a condescending thought, and Tami had been through enough trauma and shame for several lifetimes. But nonetheless true.

Rod wondered about that dream he had. What did it mean? That Tami was being tortured inside and it was up to him to help? Yet she seemed so well-adjusted to what life had handed her. Except for Henry Ross and Dean Jorgon and a few others, all of whom were gone, she had forgiven everyone involved in her freshman year torments. As she put it once, they were simply under mistaken impressions created by a couple of bad people. She was even on good terms with Homer Winant now, that clever creep. And who was Rod to say that this peace of mind was not real? It certainly seemed real to him. She never had unsettling dreams, like the one he just had.

As she sipped orange juice she giggled.

"What."

"I was just thinking -- what if I wore that tail around campus?"

All Rod could think of was how uncomfortable it would be, but he saw how it might be funny and played along. "Maybe just to parties?"

"Or special occasions. Like graduation."

Now he did laugh. "Your valedictorian speech."

He thought about sitting in the audience, using the remote to bring her to orgasm after orgasm as she spoke. Maybe he shouldn't be turned on, considering her freshman year experiences. But still...

Stuffed for now, Tami sat back and put her feet up on the opposite seat, on each side of Rod. She fondled the sides of his jeans with her toes.

"How are your fans doing?"

"Attentive as ever. Spica keeps bringing up the idea of an after-hours get-together."

"Who?"

"Spica. She's a freshman. I don't think you've met her yet."

"Is this the 'Tami-thon' idea again?"

"Kind of."

The two of them had never gotten each other's views on this long-standing proposal because neither was sure what they thought about it themselves. But now Rod found himself saying, "If they want to do it at our house, that's O.K. I'd like to be there, though."

Tami looked at Rod. "It sounds too, like, intimate for you not to be there. Think of it as having Jen and Leisha visiting. The expanded version."

"I don't know if we can afford all that fine wine."

"Not for me."

"No?"

"No, I prefer keeping my senses sharp. Like when I'm with you."

So there he had it. The marathon, multi-tongue party idea had been OK with Tami all along.

Tami said, "You know, about this tail... If it does what Ms. Wickland says it does, it would come in handy, like the bra and panties from Chalfont." Which she couldn't wear any more.

The tail would certainly mean less work for him every night. He could just watch, or maybe work the remote, while her immense sexual thirst was quenched, instead of doing all that work of humping from below, from above, licking, sucking, always holding back, managing her orgasms so to speak. Instead, he could hold her hand as she spasmed to her heart's (or clit's) content, and just "come in" for the finish.

"The important thing is that I am with you, Babe."

Tami inserted a sausage in a hole in Rod's pancake, which made him chuckle. "You know I was doing all sorts of tasks while wearing that tail thing. Chopping branches, pulling buggies..."

"Babe, please -- I don't want to hear about it."

"My point is, sometimes I think it's all work for you and all pleasure for me."

"I don't have your capacity."

"Still. The tail will free up my hands and mouth and everything, to give you pleasure."

"You DO give me pleasure." At least as much as he could stand, considering he could only come once or maybe twice a night. Sundays, which they tried to reserve for being alone, he could usually come four times during the course of the day.

"What I'm thinking of is the TL's," Tami said. "They don't ever want pleasure for themselves. All they want is to make me come a lot. And it's not like they're playing me like a pinball machine like you say. It's kind of selfless. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but the way they get into it seems almost mystical." She finished the last of her toast and then looked out the window into the black night. "I'm too much on the receiving end. I should devote myself more to pleasuring you. Be an RL. A Rod Licker."

Rod did not know what to make of this strange turn of the conversation. After a moment, he changed the subject.

"How's Joe doing?"

"O.K. It's a crummy situation all around but at least he's not getting shot at and he enjoys what he's doing."

"And what's that? He's with the 101st, right?"

"Yeah, but he's in ordnance. The guys who repair stuff and put it back together... I'm still amazed that Joe found his calling so quick. He used to be a total klutz mechanically. I told you about the time I had to run all the way to church to jump-start the car on Christmas morning because he didn't know how."

Yes, Rod remembered that story, from her freshman year.

"And his grades were never very good. Then after high school he decided to enlist. He was inspired by 9/11, of course, but then when they put him in mechanic school he suddenly took right to it. Really the first thing he's ever tried that he was a 'natural' at. . . If only they could have kept him at Killeen, instead of going to Iraq. They're really stretched for troops."

"Yes. I hear. My cousin's there." Actually a rather distant cousin, from relatives in Detroit.

"Oh right, I forgot. Well a friend of Joe's tried to get a hardship transfer back to the States because his uncle died. He couldn't get it. You have to be practically the only remaining source of support for 23 disabled children. Well," she said, stirring her coffee, "at least Joe'll be back soon."

"May?"

"Either that or early June."

"I'm curious. How did your father react to his picking the Army instead of the Navy?"

Tami chuckled, while wiping a drop of ketchup off her nipple. "That business about competition between the services is really not true. At least not with Dad."

The diner was almost empty on this winter night. Tami's position at their table was always facing away from the door. This way, if an out-of-towner walked in, which was unusual, he would see only her bare shoulders and naturally conclude that she was in a strapless dress. Now Rod saw a couple of scary-looking guys come in and sit at the counter. Maybe not scary. They were more like goofy and loud, and Tami's shoulders caught their attention.

Rod choreographed the situation as he usually did. Before they got too curious he asked for the check, then got up and made a show of flapping his coat around before putting it on, blocking the view. Tami got the signal and shot out the back door. Rod followed and the two walked back to the house along the path hidden behind a row of shrubs.

When they got back they sat around in the kitchen while Rod examined the tail minutely and tried the remote. There was a purple button but also a small touch-pad like a laptop has. Running the finger along the touch pad caused a little bump to travel along the shaft at the same speed. They both laughed at this, amazed at the ingenuity.

She got up on the table on all fours. Maybe some day she could accept this huge thing inside her again, but he didn't dare try that yet. Instead he got out one of Tami's selection of regular size dildoes, dabbed it with lubricant, and slowly worked it into her anus.

He hadn't done work in Tami's back door in a while. For now, he satisfied himself with using the tail as a big vibrator, pressing it against her clit as he worked the dildo in and out. He was rewarded with several short, sharp climaxes. Small climaxes for Tami, but no less satisfying to see.

Back in bed, he tried training the vibrating tail on her clit again as he slowly screwed her from below. Unfortunately the vibrations on his dick were too direct and his dick went numb, which was pretty funny. He ended up not coming himself, finishing the evening by licking Tami to several long, slow, rolling orgasms.