Encounters

"You don't have to do this, Elena. There is no easy end to it," I say, but it's like talking to the wall.

Elena gets behind me and prods my back with the gun. "Inside."

I move to the door that leads into the utility room and the kitchen. I wonder if I can shut the door as I walk in and lock it before she can shoot me. But when I get there, I remember that the door opens into the garage, so it has to be pulled shut behind you when you enter. I enter and Elena enters right behind me.

The house is freezing. I start to shiver when I enter and now I understand why she has the coat on. She must have turned the air conditioner up to its highest setting and I cursed myself for getting the best money could buy.

"Damn, it's cold in here."

She closes and locks the door behind her, then nudges me into the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room, never responding. In the living room, I see a duffel bag, which I know is not mine, so I assume it's hers.

"Sit," she says, pointing to the sofa.

My teeth beginning to chatter, I reluctantly sit. Keeping the gun pointed at my mid- section——I've heard stomach wounds are the most painful——she removes some heavy leather wrist and ankle straps with metal buckles. Being careful to keep the gun aimed at me the entire time, she fastens my ankles together and then pulls one wrist at a time behind my back and binds my wrists together with the straps.

After I'm secure, she leaves the room, going toward the back of the house——I assume to the kitchen. I'm shivering badly now and my teeth are really chattering. What an exquisite torture she's thought up for me, but I'm sure the best is yet to come. She returns a moment later with a hot cup of tea and a cup of ice cubes.

I'm really confused. What is she going to do with hot tea and ice cubes? But I'm not confused for long. She sips the tea before sitting her cup on the coffee table, and then she comes and sits beside me with the cup of ice cubes.

“Elena, why don’’t you untie me. You have a loving husband. You don’’t want to ruin your life, and mine . . ."

Her laugh interrupts me. A premonition of what's to come hits me like a sledgehammer.

When she begins to stuff the ice cubes down my chest, I jerk this way and that, screaming ““No, look . . . don't," trying to avoid them, but she persists and eventually, I falter. The ice cubes are very, very cold on my stomach. While they melt, she kneels at my feet and loosens my belt and the top of my jeans, so some of the icy water can run down into my crotch.

““Oh . . . no --- ooh . . . m . . . my . . . g . . . g. . . god-d-d . . .””

The overwhelming cold leaves me feeling disembodied, making my living room seem foreign. My teeth are chattering so hard the sound is deafening and I'm sure I'm doing serious damage their surface. While I shudder uncontrollably, this torture goes on for a long time. Me——crying, screaming, and colder than the North Pole in winter. Her——sipping her tea as if she's at a goddamned tea party. It goes on and on until I must've finally passed out from the cold.

I wake wondering if my penis and gonads are frostbitten and find Elena undoing my ankle straps. She motions with the pistol and I stand. I'll do whatever I have to do until I see an opportunity to overpower her, but my strength is quickly being drained by the cold. My heart tripping, my pulse pounding, my nerves on alert, I know I have to find a way out of this. Otherwise, I'm probably going to die. I feel that truth in my gut.

With her pushing me down the hallway, we pass the guest bathroom and turn right into my bedroom. Immediately, I notice that she's attached more straps to each post of my four- poster bed. She directs me to the bed and then has me remove all my clothing. It's difficult with my hands tied together, but somehow——because I'm wearing loafers and she’’s already undone my jeans——I'm able to shrug out of them. She urges me onto the bed where she pulls my shorts down my legs and off. Then she pulls off my socks. I prop myself up, trying to see if my genitals are white, but I can't tell. Everything just looks wet and hairy down there.

"Lay down," she commands and I do.

She straps my ankles to the two bottom bedposts. Then she pulls me to the left and attaches my left wrist to the left bedpost. After she moves around to the right side of the bed, she unfastens my right hand from my left and refastens it to the right bedpost. During this whole procedure, I'm unable to resist her because my hands are too numb and tingly.

"A . . . a . . . a . . . bl . . . la . . . nket . . . pl . . . "

She laughs at my frozen stuttering and throws a blanket over me. She leaves me there and goes——I think——into the bathroom. It's difficult to be sure since my arms are secured so tightly that I can't lift my head much to see. I can breathe freely though and I'm a little warmer. I guess I should consider myself lucky, but I'm sure I'm going to die today.

When she comes back, the change in her is amazing. She's nude, her hair is combed, she's made up her face freshly, and is laughing to herself. And the pistol dangles in her hand like a snake about to strike.

She places the weapon on the night stand and pulls the blanket off me. I'm so cold it wasn't helping that much anyway. Then she kisses me. I'm so shocked that I kiss her back. When she pulls away from me, she’’s smiling triumphantly.

Slowly——almost languidly——she gets up on the bed and straddles me. Bracing her hands on my chest, she propels her body forward over them——almost like leapfrogging, I muse——her feet barely clearing her arms. She then walks on her knees the rest of the way until she's sitting on my face.

The smell of her is so irresistible that my tongue——as if by its own accord——snakes out of my mouth and licks her. Her taste is so erotic. She presses her labia down onto my face and I fear I will not be able to breathe, but I soon forget about everything——my fear of death, the cold, possible suffocation. I'm lost in the heavenly taste of her. Pushing my tongue past her lips into the canal beyond, I eagerly fuck her with it.

I can feel my throbbing erection sticking up into the air behind her. I remove my tongue from her slick tunnel and tongue all around her clitoris, pressing on the nub before plunge back into her again. Then I go back to the nub and then back into her. To the nub and back inside her. Again and again and again, I repeat this process until she suddenly floods my mouth with her cum and I swallow it——loving it. What man would not? If he could, he'd drown in it. The fool.

She comes again and even in my single-minded state, I can feel the orgasm as it hits her and then fades away. She slumps back, so I can breath——and I do. Great, wondrous, gulps of air fill my lungs and I know what it is to be saved. I draw breath and I draw breath. But I’’m warmer now.

After some time——sluggishly at first——she rouses and moves down on my body. Another few moments pass when I feel the warmth of her vagina as she slides down my shaft. Straining up to look, I’’m sure that it is her vagina and not her mouth, but not sure enough that I don’’t need to look. No longer cold or afraid, I begin to thrust up into her as she slides down and soon enough, we establish a rhythm.

"Is this . . . what . . . you wanted?"

"Yes," I cry out and thrust again.

"You got what you wanted. . . I love you," she says.

I'm unable to concentrate on what she's saying. But it would be preposterous to believe such a declaration from someone you're afraid is going to kill you.

I sense the change in her breathing as she approaches yet another orgasm. I've always been complimented by the fairer sex for my stamina and my staying power, but it's never been like this before. Thrusting up into her as she comes again and then again, I can't hold back my own orgasm any longer, my very soul erupting into her as I thrust again and yet again.

She jerks up, off of me, frightening me for a moment until I feel her mouth descend on my shaft, so she can take the last blast into her mouth and, I guess, down her throat. When it's all over, I raise myself up for one more look. As she smiles at me, I see a clot of my ejaculate on her lower lip and I watch as it begins to run down toward her chin. She captures it with her tongue and pulls it back into her mouth, swallowing it.

Collapsing onto the bed exhausted and panting, I feel her fall onto my legs, her soft flesh mingling with the hairs on my lower body. I feel, and even smell, her sweat. Slowly, she pulls away and goes, I think, into the bathroom again.

My sexual euphoria past, I'm worried sick again. What can I do? I can't move anything except my midsection. Has she changed her mind now? Will she let me live? Have we formed some kind of sexual bond today that will last?

When I don't hear the toilet flush, I begin to wonder if maybe she left. I try pulling on the straps, but there's no give. Still exhausted, I fall back onto the bed. As my sweat dries on my body, I begin to get cold again. Why the hell didn't she throw the blanket over me? My teeth begin to chatter again, and with my exhaustion, it’’s getting harder to breath.

She appears at the edge of my sight line on the right side of the bed. There's a light in her eyes that's maybe just the reflection from the bedside lamp, but I believe it comes from someplace within her I've never been——or even seen. As she comes closer, I rise up as much as I can and it's then that I see a carving knife from my own collection——a good sharp one——in her left hand. It is swinging idly at her side.

"Wha . . . at are y . . . ou . . . go . . ."

Interrupting me, she says, "Shhh . . . don't you worry about anything, Chad. Don't you worry about anything at all." She's staring, I believe, at my genitals, which have now shrunk considerably. I feel her pick up my penis in her other hand and hold it by the tip. Her left arm rises, but doesn't strike. "I'm going to make sure you never fuck anyone else," she says as she leans over me, disappearing from my sight again. Wildly, I begin to buck my midsection up into the air and then from left to right. She never loses her hold on my penis and I eventually tire and fall back onto the bed.

"There, there," she says to me as I raise my exhausted self up to see what she’’s doing. She raises her hand with the knife and smiles at me one last time before her left arm begins to swing. As I scream, "no . . . oo . . . o," we hear the front door crash in, shocking both Elena and me. She halts her arm and turns to look over her shoulder. My scream chokes in my throat. She lifts the knife hand again and pulls my penis taut, but she doesn't strike. While she stands poised to deliver the worst blow known to man, we hear the cocking of a pistol.

A hard male voice behind her, and coming closer, says, "Drop the knife, lady. Very carefully, drop it now!"

She looks over her shoulder at whoever is there and then turns back to me. Suddenly, her knife hand moves, striking toward my lonely penis. A shot rings out, stopping her before she could cut me. Her brain matter, a lot of blood, and much of her hair sticks to me when her dead body falls onto mine.

The officer comes into my view. "You okay, buddy?"

Even though I'm crying and sniveling, I manage to say, "Yeah, I . . . guess. Cold . . . er than hell. Would you get . . . me . . . out of here . . . se fucking straps? Please?"

He begins pulling Elena's body off of mine while calling out to others who are apparently in the house. "Turn down the damn air. I need some help in here!"

He places her body on the floor and when another officer enters the room, they both unclasp me. Immediately, I roll off the bed, avoiding Elena's body on the floor, and go into my bathroom. I take the hottest shower I've ever taken in my life, scrubbing all the blood, brain matter, and hair from my body. Once I'm clean and warm, my skin red from the hot water and scrubbing, I get out of the shower. By the time I slip into some clothes and come out of the bathroom, the house is warming up.

The police take my statement and go off looking at doors, windows, etc., while I sit down in an easy chair, putting my head in my hands, tears of bitterness and defeat filling my eyes. I still feel helpless from the ordeal. Suddenly, I feel a soft pair of hands on my neck and I jump. But then I relax when I look over my shoulder and see the marvelous Amy, rubbing my shoulders. Combing my hair out of my eyes, she reaches forward and dries my tears.

"You called the cops?"

"Well, yeah, but . . . it wasn't that easy. When she took you inside, I could see you two in the living room. She was putting ice cubes down your shirt," she says, shuddering. "So, I went to the car, got my purse, and tried to use my cell phone to call the police. But the battery was dead. I didn't know what to do. Damn you've got a quiet neighborhood. Finally, after running around the neighborhood trying to find someone, anyone, I saw one of your neighbors coming outside to work in her garden. She let me use her phone. But it took them so long to get here. I was so worried about what that madwoman was doing to you."

"They came in time though——just."

"When she took you into the bedroom, you were in there a long time. I thought you were dead."

"Yeah, I thought so too, much of the time."

"What did you two do back there?"

Looking into her sweet eyes, I say, "You don't want to know, Amy. You really don't want to know."

FINIS

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