The Gold Digger Ch. 07

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Stupid businesswoman learns humility.
6.1k words
4.23
16.8k
6

Part 7 of the 10 part series

Updated 11/02/2022
Created 05/27/2010
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carvohi
carvohi
2,541 Followers

Carol was awakened again by a gentle tapping from Bob. She was groggy and slow to wake up. It seemed like he was always waking her up. Using her soft pink closely manicured fingers she wiped the sleep from her eyes. They'd been having one of the strangest relationships. He'd gained nearly complete control of her life thanks to her stupidity. He'd shared her with their coworkers, farmed her out to a local brothel that seconded as a Bed and Breakfast. He'd shipped her off to an old people's home. That last experience was especially hellacious. The vindictive supervisor, a dour old woman named Ruth, had locked her in a basement closet where she became roach and ant food for weeks, unable even to escape sitting in her own feces. The old supervisor had only done it because she resented the fact that Carol had been providing sexual services to old people. Carol had to admit it hadn't been much fun, but she knew she'd brightened a lot of very old peoples' lives. Bob had rescued her. He'd brought her to his cabin. Technically it was cabin in the woods, but in reality it was a beautiful spacious 'almost' mansion.

Other things had evolved over the past weeks that were closing in on the both of them. Carol was pregnant, and it was a sure bet the baby was Bob's. He was prepared to pay the costs of a child, but he was disinclined to make a commitment to her. Coincidentally she'd become his defacto property. His name was tattooed on her ass, and she'd signed a paper giving him full power of attorney over her and everything she owned. She supposed, if he wanted to he could lock her away an asylum, or auction her off to real brothel. Worse he might simply dispose of her by selling her to some foreigner. He might make her the property of some middle-eastern potentate leaving her trapped in a seraglio for the remainder of her days. If he wanted to he might even farm her out on the streets! She didn't think any of that would happen. She had her reasons. She believed in his fundamental decency, and she knew, and he did too, that he loved her. Though she had to admit love was a powerful and unpredictable aphrodisiac. Love had driven stronger men than Bob to extremes of cruelty. Still she was more inclined to believe he would use her to satisfy his own perverted sexual fantasies. If that was the case she was fine, since she didn't think his sexual hang-ups were that unusual. If he kept her around as a toy, or pet, or slave, that would be fine with her. Time was on her side. Every day their baby was growing inside her. Sooner or later the real man, the protective hunter-gatherer would emerge. With the arrival of that happy day her most dreaded fears would recede, extinguished by Bob's love and guardian instincts, those good instincts that distinguished civilized man from his base primitive urges. Carol understood manliness conferred power, but it also tempered power with responsibility, even affection. Meanwhile for her it was mostly a question of waiting him out.

She was lying in his king-sized bed on the first floor of a magnificent log cabin most of which he'd built himself. He was trying to wake her up.

"Carol. Carol." He said. "Wake up Carol."

She opened one eye and smiled. "Bob. My hero." She reached out and tried to pull him down.

Bob responded like any man when a beautiful woman wanted him in bed with her. He climbed in. "Carol it's been two weeks since I brought you here. It's been almost six weeks since we've made love."

She listened to the resonant tones of his man's voice. She liked what she heard. That was the first time he used the term love to describe their sexual activities.

Bob went on. "I think you're healthy enough that I won't hurt you."

Carol leaned into him. She didn't think he could ever really hurt her. Maybe a little embarrassment, perhaps a spanking now and then, but hurt her, not Bob. They embraced and shared a long languid kiss. Bob had firm warm lips, like his strong hands and muscular arms they exuded a restrained power that was both comforting and intimidating. He was security and threat at the same time.

Carol was still in the blouse and skirt he'd selected for her earlier. It was a nice outfit. The soft bone color of the blouse and gentle swish of the skirt accentuated her delicate sexuality. He slowly undid the buttons of the blouse. Like an artist, an explorer, a child on Christmas morning, he peeled away the blouse slowly, revealing gently sloping cleavage, rounded breast, darker aureole, and delicate nipple all a little at a time. He allowed the skirt to slip down her legs exposing her thighs, heart shaped nether cheeks, the soft twin hillocks of her labia. Then there was that especially sensitive northernmost protrusion that was the center and source of so much feminine gratification. The bite wounds from her earlier ordeal were still there, but becoming faded memories.

Bob took the palms of his hands and rubbed over her arms, her stomach, and her precious breasts. One gentle pendular swing of a palm and her nipples started to engorge and press outward. He pressed his chest against hers. She responded with lithesome grace. God he thought, she's adorable. He kissed her cheeks, her neck. He kissed that special place where her clavicles converged producing that gentle depression at the base of her throat. A depression of flesh that beckoned north to a beautiful doll like face with haunting eyes, pink cheeks, turned up nose, moist pursed lips, and impertinent little dimpled chin. Or southwards to two dainty glands genetically purported only for the secretion of milk but were much more, being the source of so much sexual joy. He rubbed down the sides of her torso to her hips, those magnificent softly smooth rounded outriders that enticed hungry hands either forward to a well-loved crevice where so many excitements had been offered and shared, or rearward to an as yet unexplored cavern, a virgin font of carnal delight.

His hands wandered over her abdomen down to her waiting vagina. He felt her warmth as it exuded from her labia and swollen clitoris. He fondled her clit with his fingertips. He sensed her growing willingness to receive his manhood. She pushed her vagina against his hand. She wanted him. He could tell she wanted him to re-explore that lush hot wet familiar flesh. It had been too long for her too. But her vagina wasn't the object his desire today. His fantasies and cravings were directed at another entry, that other orifice that stretched out behind her woman's hips, hidden between two fleshy cheeks, a secret, even sacred, cavern no woman willingly shared. He wanted her anal cavity, and this was the day he would have it.

Bob kissed her neck and settled his mouth on her beautiful crimson lips. The kiss was only a feint to distract her from the main event. He took the fingers of his right hand and slowly began to work around her rectum. It was soft and warm like her pussy. And like her puss, it was small and tight. They lay side by side, man and woman, kissing, nibbling and fondling. He used one hand to caress a breast, toy with a nipple, tease a labial lip, but his the other hand was about the business of conquest, with its determined fingertips he concentrated on her last yet to be pillaged fortress, her anus. First only one finger around the edges, then two, then one lone finger slowly began to forge its way into that new virgin territory accustomed only to departures, not entries. His fingers began their inexorable exploration into her anal cavity. Mining a new opening, he was careful, gentle, and considerate, but he knew there was inevitability to the pain that awaited later imminent penetrations.

He had one finger in and around her anus. She was beginning to feel those mildest of sensations of discomfort that can only come when some new, as yet unexplored, pathway was being enlarged for the first time, enlarged for the fleshy leviathan that waited only inches away. She pushed against his hand with hers trying to forestall its fearsome approach, but he refused to relinquish his claim. They kissed, they embraced, their free hands wandered the well traveled terrain of their upper bodies, but Carol's attention kept drifting to that other region, that nether zone of still untouched purity, her one remaining virginal orifice.

Two fingers hurt. He could tell, but this was just a preliminary probe, a reconnaissance. Real invasion was still over the horizon. Bob rolled Carol on her back. He dropped down to her vagina with his mouth. With his mouth at her labial crevice he began to induce further arousal in that most natural of all places. Yet while his lips were on hers, his fingers were at that other gateway. While she rejoiced in his frontal assault, she felt with growing trepidation that other, that rearward march.

Bob pressed his face against her puss. He struck hard with his tongue, craving those juices that were flowing so freely from her frontal cavity. She was approaching that moment when all her joys and all her pleasures would find fulfillment. Still, there was that nagging, that niggling unresolved issue to her rear.

Carol's clitoris was fully erect. She could hold off no longer. It came in a heated rush. She jerked. She flexed. She quivered. She flooded his mouth with her womanly fluids. He lapped it up. It was fluid from which great new energies emerged, the nectar of the Gods. Carol orgasmed. It was a moment ancient Deities prayed for. She climaxed with a power and strength she didn't know she had. Bob had brought her to fruition without full penetration. It was a fire like she'd never withstood before, a new kind of conflagration. Still, there was that awkward furtive fondling at her rearward entry.

For her it was over, at least for the moment. For Bob the adventure was about to begin. He rolled her so she was on her stomach. He started kissing the nape of her neck. His manhood though, slowly searched for her other opening. There it was! He discovered that soft pliant single folded circular cavern. He started to push. Slowly, oh so slowly.

At first Carol felt no serious discomfort. He was only at her doorstep. But gradually his manly power began to press further into her rearward cave. It started to hurt. It hurt a lot. She began to pull away. She couldn't get away. On her stomach, and him on top there was no place to retreat. She whimpered. "Bob. It hurts."

He pulled back. He started kissing her neck. He rubbed her nipples from underneath. He leaned backward slightly. He gently massaged her ass cheeks, he planted a gentle a loving kiss on her tattoo, his tattoo, but he didn't pull off. As she recovered he renewed his assault. He pressed in again. A little farther this time, a little deeper.

"Bob" she cried out. "It hurts!"

He whispered tenderly in her ear. "It will hurt. You're a virgin Carol. This has never happened to you before." He pushed a little harder. He went a little deeper. He could hear her faint whimpering. He knew it hurt. But it was supposed to hurt. He was a man. He was taking what was his. He'd do it with tenderness, but he'd do it. He'd do it tonight. He slowly withdrew again. Though barely inside, a soft suction was being created. He withdrew to the faint sound of a gentle squish.

Carol was under him. She was weeping. "Bob. This hurts."

He whispered. "I know darling." He pressed in again. Each succeeding assault took him a little further, but even so he was barely inside. Less than a full inch of his powerful manhood had entered the breach. He, and she, still had a long way to go. He pushed further. She wept. He pressed again. She cried out. "Bob stop. This isn't any fun for me."

He cupped her breasts with his hands. He leaned into her ear. "I know. This is the price you pay for being a woman." He pushed again. Now he was inside by two inches, still a long way, a dreadfully long way to go. She was openly crying. No pretense at love and sex. She was in pain.

Bob rolled off. He curled her shaking body to his. She dropped her head into his chest. "Please no more Bob. It hurts so."

Bob responded. "Rest a moment sweetheart. Let me kiss you." He took his right hand and lifted her chin. He saw the tears as they trickled down her beautiful face. He knew he was going to hurt her tonight. He'd been looking forward to it. This was what a man sometimes did. Women were meant to be soft and pliable, malleable in a man's arms. But a man was supposed to be made of sterner stuff. Yes it would hurt, but her pain would be worth his ultimate satisfaction.

He rolled her over on her stomach again. She pleaded. "No Bob." He wasn't listening. This was it. He found her anal opening and pressed in the previously forged three inches. Now he pushed on, harder. Harder! She cried! She winced in pain. She tried to pitch him off. It didn't matter. He was on a mission. His destiny and hers was inside her anal cavity. He kept pushing. She screamed! She screamed again! They weren't cries anymore. She wasn't pleading for respite. These were harsh, guttural, unearthly screams of genuine unalterable agony. She was small. She was smaller even than he expected. It didn't matter. He couldn't stop. This was what he'd wanted since that first night when everyone was on her, in her. This was what he was meant to have! This was his chamber. No other man would be allowed to have this! It was his, and hers, at least for now, her chamber of unmitigated horror.

He'd done it! He reached full penetration. He felt his scrotum press against that fleshy area between her ass and puss. He'd burst her anal cherry! He sensed the faint traces of some new fluid, not vaginal womanly juices, not sweat, no this was a new fluid, a red fluid. It still wasn't over. He reveled in his power. He'd crushed her! He pushed in and out several more times. He did it because he wanted to. It felt good! Her pain was like a tonic. No matter how he would care for, cuddle, and cherish her in a few moments, her pain was too exquisite to forego!

Bob plowed in four no five more times. She screamed each time. Then the last time he ejaculated. She felt the sperm. It was hot, and it went deep inside, but it wasn't like the joyous celebration of a vaginal ejaculation. This was only pain. She was glad it was over. He might stay in, but now mercifully he would begin to shrink. As he shrank she would recover some, but not all. Her self-confidence, her aplomb, her belief in him was devastated. As she had suffered excruciating pain, he had exulted.

Bob was satisfied. She'd had the experience of a lifetime. It would never hurt this much again.

She didn't know that yet, even if she had it wouldn't have helped. He wasn't supposed to hurt her, not really. Not like this! She would have been grateful if he'd beaten her with a stick. She only knew it was ending, but the end of his penetration of her anal core meant the end of something more for her too. Something of her self-reliance, her confidence, her independence was receding as his manhood receded. She would never be the same. It wasn't like her lost virginity of so many years ago. That was high school. This was deeper, more profound, more complicated, and immeasurably more degrading. She was no longer the receptacle of mutually shared joy. She was the receptacle of his dominance. His power required her submission. By taking her in the ass he'd simply taken her. Nothing like love or passion was shared. It was his pleasure, her pain. Somehow things could never be completely the same. Never, ever again.

Bob rolled over on his side. He pulled her close and crushed her to him He kissed her tenderly. She slid into his arms, but not as an equal, not as a coconspirator in an act of love. He was a man, she but an object, an opening for his sperm. She never felt so degraded. She finally understood what inferiority meant. She cried the bitterest of bitter tears. He'd crushed her. Had he crushed her spirit? She couldn't stop whimpering. Her ass hurt. It really hurt! Her pride was hurt. Most of all she sense of self-assurance was a shambles. She never believed. Never really believed Bob was capable of inflicting this much pain, not on her. She lay there and wept.

Bob was tired. He'd had a very fulfilling evening. It was time to go to sleep. "Carol. Will you stop crying?"

Carol sniffed. "I can't. It hurts."

Bob was losing his patience. What did she think was going to happen? "Look I want to get to sleep."

Carol whimpered back. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to stop."

Bob growled again. "OK. Look shut up." He took his right hand and flicked a three fingered slap on her left cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, more a wake up call. Like no more nonsense. "I said shut up and get to sleep."

Carol was stunned. He slapped her. He slapped her in the face. Where she came from you just didn't slap people in the face. Men didn't hit women! Not even a slap. Now she knew she really was nothing. Fighting to control her tears she sniffled. "OK Bob. I'm sorry. I'll be quiet. I'll be good."

Bob felt reassured. Nothing like a little nip on the cheek to shut up a naughty girl. "Good night Carol." He took his arms and forced her to roll over so her back was against him. He wrapped his arms around her upper torso, grabbing and squeezing a breast in each hand. He pressed against her back. His penis pressed against her ass. He liked the feel. His was starting to get hard again. He didn't want to do her, but the idea of pressing his hard shaft against the cleft between the cheeks of her wounded ass made him feel more masculine.

Together they drifted off to sleep. Bob drifted into slumber with thoughts of Sir Edmund Hillary, Neal Armstrong, Columbus, Genghis Khan. He slept the complacent sleep of the victor, a man with his pet. For Carol it was Anne Bolyn, Joan of Arc, Boudica of the Iceni. For her it was the sleep of martyrdom, of defeat, of slavery. A sleep that was a long time coming, the pain was still too real.

Both Bob and Carol slept through the night. It was a tough start for Carol, but once she finally drifted off it became a deep REM sleep filled with disquieting nightmarish images. Bob, of course, had only sweet dream.

The sun was shining the next morning when Carol awakened. Bob had been out of bed and had already fixed breakfast. Carol rolled over and immediately remembered the night before. Her rear end felt like it was on fire. She tried to move but the effort was too painful. He came in with some coffee and toast. Carrying it to her side he said. "Well good morning to you. I know you slept well. How do you feel?"

Carol was afraid to say too much. She was reluctant to say anything for fear of betraying her uncertainty after the previous night. She rolled a little, wincing as she rolled. "Good morning."

Bob recognized the pain. "A little sore? Roll over on your stomach. Let me rub on a little salve."

Carol was afraid to disagree. She rolled over on her stomach, but turned her head so she was facing away from him.

Bob took a tube of ointment and started rubbing her ass cheeks. "It's always hard the first time. At least that's what they tell me." He continued rubbing working his way around her rectum. "They say you get used to it, and after awhile even start to like it." He was rubbing the outer edges of her ass hole. He saw the dried blood, could tell she was swollen and sore.

Carol lay there, perfectly still.

Bob went on rubbing, pushing his finger in as he rubbed and talked. She winced and tried to pull away, but he took his other hand and used it to pull her body back toward his finger. There was no escape. Her ass was torn, tired, and sore, but, like an army of occupation, it had to suffer his middle-finger's penetration. Ostensibly the insertion was to massage her aching rectum and fill it with a comforting balm. The balm was comforting, but there was another motive, a reminder that the innermost parts of her behind no longer belonged to her.

carvohi
carvohi
2,541 Followers
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