A Dark Tale Ch. 08

He yells at me and I jump and then I nod. He chuckles again, "See, your family won't like what you did with your nephew, well most fucking people won't anyways, but like I said, Geoff don't mind because it is in the past. People, they don't understand, so it is best we keep your diaries safe."

I stand in shock as he drops a carrier bag on the table. I slump on the floor knowing my whole sex life is in that bag, and he has read about most of it by the sounds of things. He moves towards me and I slowly raise my head. His groin is now inches from my face.

"Well it ain't going to fucking get itself out, is it?"

"Please don't yell at me, I do what you want. I told you I would be a good wife. I even tidied up as best I can, and you haven't even noticed."

He looks around and nods, and then points at his zip. My trembling fingers start to undo his trousers.

"See what you do to old Geoff, Mrs Baker. Now start sucking, bitch."

He straddles my legs and moves forward. His dick closes on my trembling open mouth. I move back, pressing my head against the wall. His hard cock just follows until I'm pinned there, pinned on his dick. He groans, and I can feel his legs trembling against me. I choke and gag, but he doesn't move back, he just chuckles.

"I have missed you today Sylvia Baker."

He gasps again as my lips clamp round his dick. I wash his prick with my tongue just to wash away the odour. My nose is pressed into his sweaty pubic hair.

He is an ignorant bastard, he stalks women, he treats them like shit, and he is a rapist that surely no mother would love. But I suck. I suck slowly and use my whole mouth up the length of his dick.

I can feel Geoff pressing his hairy balls with his hand to my chin. He is chuckling and grunting every time I squeak on his cock. He loves me squirming I'm sure he does.

"Do you like your new tits?"

I nod as I keep sucking, remembering that weird surgeon guy, who turned up one day a few weeks ago.

Geoff grips my hair and groans. I still struggle a little, because outwardly it is right, it is what he would like. I mean if I just sucked he would probably pull out, and maybe even his horrid cock would lose its erection.

I'm sucking and licking and making it good for him, for my husband, just how he likes it. I struggle and whimper just to let him know he is in charge. His hands grip me harder, and his legs are trembling even more. He is enjoying his dominance over me. That is what really gets him off, so I struggle, and I moan in disapproval, just to please him.

He moves back a little and changes his grip. One of his hands is now wrapped around his cock, and the other is around the back of my head.

"Oh see, I know you don't want it but fucking hell wife, you is going to get it!"

He changes back to two hands behind my head, and I try to push away a little on his trembling thighs.

"No you don't!" he snaps.

If I could plead with him, like I do when he fucks me, I could beg him to stop because it turns him on so much he comes quickly, but I can't, because he is fucking my mouth. But I could lie sobbing underneath him as he fucks me, and beg him to stop, I could do that, and he would like it! He grinds into my face, and I can hear his voice has gone to a little high pitched squeak.

I suppose my head is going to split open with my own thoughts, if not by that by his fat cock. But right now I've stopped thinking on purpose. Well I have to, Geoff is hissing through his nose, and he has two hands ramming my head on his dick. He is fucking my head, in more ways than one.

My head is pressed back against the wall, and I start trying to raise myself up to get away from him. I only manage a few inches, before he tightens his grip. Then his vile seed erupts into my mouth. I finally get a half breath and I start to swallow, and I keep swallowing what I can, but it just oozes out of my mouth around his cock.

"Yes fucking yes!" he bellows, and then he presses my head back hard against the wall. He sinks to his knees still holding my head in both his big strong shaking hands, "I loves you, you fucking slut!" he pants.

"Please no," I say screwing my face up as his tongue licks the runaway spunk from my chin. He groans his 'Mr Pervert' groan, as his tongue stabs in my mouth. I let him kiss me. I just make myself hold my position as he licks all around my mouth. My eyes are still screwed up, and they stay that way until he moves his head back. We look into each others eyes for awhile, rapist and victim, husband and wife.

Slowly his hands loosen on my head, and he gets to his feet. I'm staring at his flaccid cock that has left an awful taste in my mouth. And there, right on the tip is a single bubble of cum.

He goes over to the sink and gets a cup with a broken handle. He offers it to me with fresh water. I ignore the old grained in tea stain in the bottom of the cup. I have to wash my mouth out. I drink and choke on the first mouthful. But I drain the last quickly, not even bothering with the dribble that is running down out the corner of my mouth. I hand him back the cup and look up into his eyes.

I stand up and go to the oven. I pull out his dinner and serve it up to him. He smiles.

"Are you not hungry then?"

I shake my head, "I could have done with some salt for it."

"No, no salt," he snarls, and brings his fits down on the table so hard, the plates and things jump in the air, "I told you I'm not having salt round the house because you can use it for your spells."

Here we go with the witch thing again. He really thinks I'm a witch, and right now I wish I was. As he eats I sit there watching him, wondering how he can shovel it in so quickly, but at least that is good, I don't want him tasting it to much.

I can handle the sex, but his fists frighten me. Every night before I serve up his tea, he gets a blow job, without fail. Every night we go to bed, he fucks me, without fail. In the mornings it could be one of the other.

He looks at my tits and grins.

"They are the same size as that Molly Parton," he says with a wink.

"I told you her name is Dolly."

"Molly, Dolly, it don't matter. Get them out for me."

I rip open my blouse, and my two huge naked breasts bounce free. He grins, hooks his fork in my nipple ring and tugs me over the table, until his lips mash against mine. He lets me go, and I pick up his tobacco pouch, and roll two cigarettes. I leave one next to him, and walk towards the door, stop, and look back at him. He unclips part of the chain so it allows me to go further, and then he padlocks it back up, and puts the key in his top shirt pocket. I open the door and stand outside, puffing on the cigarette, hoping he'll eat everything.

A few minutes later I hear him burp. I stand facing away from him.

"You are a good cook, and no knives are missing."

"I told you I'd be good," I mumble.

"Yeah, but I still haven't forgiven you for what you did with my mate Stuart, and promising him all sorts of stuff to help you escape."

"That was weeks ago, do you never let up?"

"Have you thought about what I want?"

I look back at him, he's stopped eating he mustn't stop eating!

"Yes, I can't guarantee a boy though, and the pill takes some time to get out of my system, it won't happen over night. Eat your pie."

"Geoff junior will like your pie," he says and grins at me, and then shovels more food in his mouth.

A few minutes later I hear him gag, and then cough, cough some more, and then choke. The plate crashes to the ground, and I hear him swear and slump down on the floor. I look round and he is on his knees, his face is bright red, and foam starts dribbling out the corner of his mouth.

"You, put a spell on me," he grumbles in disbelief.

I hiss back at him, "Yes I did. You married a fucking witch, what did you expect? I was just waiting for my powers to build up, you gormless idiot."

He grabs his throat and I move back inside the house. He tries grabbing my hand, but he is so weak I bat it away. I get the key from his top pocket, and unlock the padlock and the shackle from my ankle. I grab the bag containing my diaries, and head to his van, taking the key from the hook on the way. I don't run, but I rush.

I start the engine and take a deep breath. I go to pull away but something stops me. I head back to the house to the rat cage, stepping over Geoff's panting and twitching body on the way. I take one last look at him, and he throws up, having stuck his fingers down his throat. I watch him crawl slowly towards the sink clutching his belly. I turn away and get back in his van and leave.

The drive through the trees and the overgrown bushes isn't so scary now. I stop a few miles away from his house at the edge of the woods, and release Norman, Angel, and Bobby back into the wild. I watch them as they run for cover, as I make a phone call to Detective Tommy Parsons. I tell him about the house in the woods, with a lot of nicked stuff in it, and I suggest he calls an ambulance, as Mr Baker has swallowed rat poison. Naturally the police detective wants me to make a statement.

"No, keep my name out of it; say it is an anonymous tip. Drag me into it and I tell Higgs you fucked me. I'm sure a policeman fucking a suspect is against the rules."

"Fine, you have my word."

It's been two weeks since I made my escape. I'm trying to wash the words, slut, whore, and home wrecker, off my house. I'm trying to find a new job too, after that Asshole of a manager told HQ I had been stalking him and he had proof.

A car pulls up and I'm waiting for rotten eggs or abuse to be hurled at me.

"I'm not sure if I like your hair like that."

I turn round and see Jayne grinning at me.

"It's Debbie and Beverly's handy work, they hacked it off, and I'm sure you all had a good laugh about it. If you've come to gloat get on with it," then I stop and think, "I thought you had been locked up?"

"Sylvia, I was for two days, until the gentleman in the car got me out. He wants to speak to you. Also I want to say sorry, I phoned my ex husband and told him I knew it was you. He came clean and told me it was Debbie he was going to run off with."

I stand up and her eyes look at my breasts.

"My God, what the hell have you done?"

"I didn't have a choice. My husband said he wanted me to look like Dolly Parton. The next thing I know is I'm stuck with these. Well go on have a good laugh."

She shakes her head, but her eyes are still drawn to my tits.

"You can get them removed."

"I know that," I grumble.

I look over at the Rolls Royce parked outside my house, and then the man getting out of it. A van pulls up, and three men get out carrying buckets. I just watch as they start cleaning the graffiti off my house.

"Ms Summers may I have a word with you?"

I look at the card the man from the Rolls Royce gives me.

"So what exactly do you want to talk about, Mr William Lovett?" I ask wearily.

"Jayne would you make a pot of tea, please?"

"I don't have a tea pot; it'll be teabags in a cup."

"May I call you Sylvia?"

"It beats what I'm usually called."

Jayne makes the tea, takes one last look at my tits, and then leaves.

I sit there and listen to this man going on about how he can transform my life. He tells me everything he knows about me over the next hour, things that I thought no one knew. Then he opens his bag and puts down all my diaries. I just stare at them.

"You've written everything down, Sylvia. Even they way you got turned on by those men fucking you in the sex shop, which incidentally I own. I've seen the DVD too. As soon as I saw you, read your diaries, and talked to Jayne about you, I knew you were the woman I've been looking for. I'm offering you a position Sylvia, a partnership, we can discuss details over dinner tomorrow night, and then we can take things from there."

"How did you get hold of my diaries?"

"Does that really matter? I could make you rich, very rich."

I know I should be angry and calling the police, but with everything that has happened to me, I just don't have the fight or the anger left in me.

"I hear Geoffrey Baker will get around 4 years in prison. He never ratted on you, if you'll excuse the pun. I'm surprised you actually wrote about what he did with you while you were tied over the rat cage."

"My diaries are private, and frankly Mr Lovett, I'm starting to get annoyed with you. Tell me exactly what you want or leave."

"I want a fifth wife Sylvia. A wife who'll do all the things in that video, and things you have written about, and a lot more besides," he stands up looking down on me with a grin, at the shock on my face.

"Are you mad?" I ask calmly.

"No I'm not mad Sylvia, just rich, very rich. Think about it, I'll give you a years salary that you would have made in York's just for dinner with me. Look around you Sylvia, you'll soon have to sell this place, and then you'll have nothing. You would be a very rich widow when I die."

"People get married for love Mr Lovett."

"Yes, they do, and I'm sure you did the first time round, but look at the predicament you find yourself in now."

"So you think you can just buy me, as your wife?"

He smiles, "I bought 3 of my previous wives, and although Jayne and I never got that far, I look after her still. She has a big detached house, haven't you ever wondered how a single mum could afford that?"

"You forget I'm married, I'm Mrs Baker now, and thanks to your sort in the government I can't legally divorce Geoffrey Baker for two bloody years."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. I know Mr Baker must have drugged you to go through with the wedding as you claimed. So you're stuck with being Mrs Baker even though he is locked up."

"I'm Mrs Baker for the next two years, the whole thing is nightmare, but it is one which I can't do anything about, because of that stupid new law. Besides it gives the people round here a giggle."

"The law was introduced because of all the divorces, it was made so people stopped and thought seriously about marriage. The Prime Minster as you know is a strong supporter of all things religious, so as you say you are stuck being Mrs Baker, purely from the legal point of view."

"And as my husband, he owns 50 percent of everything I have, it isn't fair."

"You are missing something there Sylvia, as his wife, you own 50 percent of everything he has, that includes his rundown farm house."

"That isn't worth much."

"No but I happen to know a property developer who wants to build a new town, and the farm house you and your husband own, sits right in the middle of it. While he is locked up you can do what you like with the farm."

"I don't want him chasing me as soon as he comes out of prison. As far as I'm concerned I don't want his money."

"Then go see him Mrs Baker, go see your husband, and convince him to sell."

"You must be joking."

He walks to the door and pulls it open, "Money talks Sylvia, and it opens doors and covers up discretions, and even buys a wife. Have dinner with me and we'll discuss it in more detail. I'll await your phone call."

"If I did convince him to sell, why shouldn't I go direct to the property developer, and cut you out?"

"Because Sylvia, I am the property developer, well one of two who wants his land," he says with a smile and leaves.

I looked on the internet and found out all about him. From pictures with royalty, to his mansion surround by miles of land. He has homes in America, Italy, and France, and companies around the world. Then I looked around at what I had, and thought about the things I had gone through. I picked up his card and the attached cheque for £1000 just for listening to him. Then I picked up my phone.

(To be continued in A Second Dark Tale.)