Rebecca Ch. 04

CHAPTER FOUR-FIGHT AND FUCK

After eating our fill we drifted off to sleep, he on a threadbare sofa in the main room and me sitting on the floor, my back against the wall. Seeing that the sun was low in the west, I deduced that it was mid afternoon when I awoke to the sound of Garth retching.

My head throbbed and I felt like pulling my eyes out of their sockets. A victim of the hangover I predicted would result from drinking too much whiskey too fast in too short of a time; I was overcome by a wave of nausea.

I stood up and instinctively placed my hand over my mouth to keep from having to wallow in my own filth in the squalid abode that was now my prison. I ran through the door, bypassing the pistol my captor had carelessly left on the table, and took my place next to Garth, who was kneeling on the ground next to the cabin, emptying the contents of his stomach onto a patch of grass.

I leaned over and puked on the grass, the bits of my tuna fish sandwich dwarfed by the amorphous puddle of partially digested food that my kidnapper had deposited a few inches away. The nausea and headache subsided momentarily and I was drenched with sweat as I righted my torso and took a few deep breaths.

Garth, startled by my presence, jumped up and felt around his waist before surveying me. Totally nude with my arms at my side, I had nothing to hide. With a sense of relief written on his countenance, he strode past me and went back into the cabin, soon emerging with the pistol in his right hand.

"Bitch, you probably just blew the best chance you'll ever get to kill me. You ain't ever gonna see me fuck up like this again," he snarled.

The reprieve from my hangover was over. The misery was back with a vengeance. And I was in no mood to be called a bitch. The prospect of death as a source of relief from my bi-yearly or so hangovers had in the past seemed an attractive option after a night of booze filled merriment, and was even more enticing that day.

I staggered over the rough ground to my enemy, unconcerned about the mode of my imminent demise. Looking him in the eye, I screamed, "Don't call me a bitch, you stupid motherfucker!"

I pounded on his muscular chest with my fists, the blows I landed ineffectual. It was as if I was striking a stone wall, but it felt good to be fighting back.

My captor didn't flinch. Instead, as I pounded on his chest, he broke out into evil laughter.

Tears streamed down my face. I could use all my strength and would accomplish nothing. He was right. I had blown perhaps the only chance I would ever have to end the nightmare I was living.

The futility of my attack now obvious, I stopped pummeling him and reached to the ground and grabbed a rock that was about the size of a baseball. Intending to use the stone to crush my tormentor's calvarium, with all my might I drove my right arm forward.

Before the rock got within a foot of his skull, Garth seized my right wrist. My hand involuntarily opened and the stone fell harmlessly to the ground as the flesh and tendons and bones of my wrist were crushed together in the vise that was his meaty hand. I then looked him in the eye again, managed a smile, and then expectorated a mixture of spittle and vomitus that splattered on his right cheek.

The right side of my face exploded in pain after the handle of the pistol landed on my cheek. He released my wrist and I stood motionless for an instant before falling in a heap to the ground.

I tried to muster the strength to get on my feet and run away, hoping I could conceal myself in the brush and avoid whatever awaited me at the hands of the beast who had imprisoned me here. But when I attempted to stand up, my legs would not support me and I again sank to the ground, striking the side of my head on a rock. Helpless, I let out a sob as another stream of tears ran down my cheeks. I pounded on the ground with my fists, my anger not only directed at the sadist who had brought me here but also at the One who had given me life.

Garth seized my right wrist and dragged me across the ground as my shrieks and sobs continued. The pebbles tore my skin and the rocks bruised my flesh.

When we stopped and he let go of my wrist, I sank my teeth in his leg. For this I was rewarded with a kick in the rib cage that muted my sobs for a moment. But as he dragged me to my feet I began screaming at the top of my voice.

He wrapped his right hand around my throat, stifling me. When he let go, he picked up a rusted tin can as I caught my breath. He placed the can on the top of my head and strode about ten paces back.

I felt like a bird mesmerized by the gaze of a snake as I watched him raise his pistol. It did not occur to me to run for my life as he squeezed the trigger.

The woods echoed with the blast from his gun and the can fell from my crown. I looked to the ground and saw the can had been pierced by the bullet.

Garth trod toward me, the pistol still raised and pointed at my forehead. I was frozen in fear, the bravado with which I had been overcome as I had pummeled him with my fists and spat in his face now a distant memory. The possibility that he would finish me off an instant after he had put an end to my acts of defiance had not occurred to me.

"Please, no, I'm sorry! Let me live!" I pleaded.

I watched his index finger flex as he pulled the trigger, the barrel of the gun inches away from my forehead. I did not duck or close my eyes. My illusion that I had a chance to survive now gone, I was ready for my life to end.

The roar from the pistol deafened me as the bullet whizzed above my head. I collapsed into my captors arms and barely heard him mutter, "The next round from this gun is going into your skull. You can call me a son of a bitch, a bastard, or even a cocksucker but don't ever fucking call me stupid again."

I sank to my knees, sobbing, still entrapped in my living hell but grateful to be alive. I heard Garth trudge away and hoped he would leave me alone to wallow in my misery, to cry in solitude. But after fading away, the sound of steps crushing the leaves and snapping the twigs on the ground resumed and grew louder. My tormentor was returning. I was too timid even to lift my head and regard his countenance.

Startled by crash of an object landing on the ground next to me, I turned my head to regard a spade lying next to me. I looked up at Garth. His face was lit up by a shit-eating grin.

"Find a spot where you'd like to be buried. It's time for you to dig your grave!"

"Dig the fucking hole yourself," I muttered, my eyes again downcast.

He squatted next to me and picked up my chin in his left hand, using his right hand to direct the barrel of his pistol to my forehead. He cocked the trigger.

"You have about five seconds more to live if you don't get on your feet and find a spot to dig that hole."

Part of me wanted it to end there, but certain after having been abandoned by whatever entity governed creation that the best for which I could hope was oblivion after the round in the chamber destroyed my frontal lobes, I played for time.

"OK, don't shoot."

I raised my hands in the gesture of surrender and slowly assumed the erect position. I then reached down and grabbed the shovel and surveyed the area for my final resting place.

"You're gonna dig it nice and deep. I don't want no predators dining on your corpse. If it doesn't get its fill, it might try making me its next meal and I don't think you should be the cause of me having to kill some innocent bear or coyote."

"Promise me you won't kill me after I'm done digging. It won't be worth living a few more hours if I'm going to spend it digging a fucking hole in the heat."

He shoved me forward. I almost lost my balance and as I staggered, trying to keep from falling, all the bumps and bruises inflicted on me by my tormentor exploding in pain. I sobbed and sniffled as I strode toward a towering oak, in the shade of which I would have my eternal repose.

"Get to work, bitch! Oh I forgot you don't like to be called that. Sorry, bitch!"

"Rebecca would be a nice name to call me."

"You don't deserve a god damn name!"

I stood beneath the oak and regarded the cabin. It's ugliness was only a function of the blight put upon it by my captor. How nice it would look with a fresh stain and a new roof, I thought.

I stuck the spade into the ground in a shady spot under a giant bough. I wondered how old the tree was. It certainly was older than me; maybe older than Garth and me combined.

"How's this?"

"I don't give a shit. Just dig the fucking hole!"

I pushed the spade into the ground and lifted a scoopful of earth, depositing it a few feet away. My head ached and I was overcome by another wave of nausea. I upchucked and my emesis splattered on the ground in front of me.

'Bitch can't hold her liquor!"

"Fuck you asshole!"

I stuck the spade into the ground, lifted another load of black soil, and tossed it aside. And then another and another. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and streamed down my face. I must have been a frightful site, my skin coated with a mixture of perspiration and earth.

After about an hour of digging, I had managed excavate enough soil so that my body would lie three feet below the surface after my captor chose to end my ordeal. My arm muscles ached. With every movement I winced in pain, raising the memory of each blow that Garth had dealt to me.

"Please, please, I beg you, let me finish digging tomorrow! I can't go on!"

'I might just decide to off you tonight. And digging that hole looks like real fucking work. I'm sorry bitch, but I'm afraid you're gonna have to finish digging."

"Or what?"

I threw the shovel onto the ground outside the hole and laid face down in my grave.

"Go ahead, shoot!" I demanded.

All was silent as I lie motionless. The birdsong that punctuated the still air would at least provide some solace as I faded into oblivion. I finally felt his beefy hand encircle my neck and he lifted me from the hole. I hung limply in his grip, too exhausted to even bear my own weight, hoping his grip would tighten and that I would lose consciousness forever as my brain was deprived of oxygen.

Instead without uttering a word, he scooped me up into his arms. After gasping for breath, my head fell limply back. The inverted vista of trees, hills, and the setting sun bobbed up and down as I was carried away to I did not know where.

He struggled to maintain his balance as the ground sloped downward. I cared not to where I was being taken, for it seemed most likely the destination was either oblivion or even worse, another level of hell. But thirsty as I was, my attention was piqued by the sound of rushing water.

The rushing turned to a roar. I finally mustered the effort to turn my head and saw that Garth was standing at the bottom of a waterfall.

He laid me down gently at the bank of the river. I watched as he removed all of his clothing.

My gaze wandered to the torrent of water flow over a ledge fifty feet above our heads. The stream was at least twenty feet wide and the rock side was obscured from the vapors rising from the pool into which the torrent flowed.

"This is gonna be cold," my tormentor explained as he lifted me into his arms again.

"Please don't drown me. Put a round in my head if you have to," I pleaded.

"You should be so lucky either way. But I ain't done with you yet. Right now you're too disgusting for me to even think about fucking you. I got to get you cleaned up."

I heard splashing as he waded into the water. When my foot broke the surface of the frigid pool, I quickly lifted it up, gaining a brief reprieve from the icy bath I was about to endure. The water continued to deepen as Garth strode forward, and I screamed when my tuchus finally got wet. I then threw my arms around my tormentor's neck, gaining another reprieve from the chill, but he relentlessly waded deeper until we were immersed up to our shoulders. I scrunched up to my captor, craving the warmth from his body.

"I'm freezing," I whispered, my teeth chattering.

"The cold will take away your pain," he explained.

I broke out of his embrace and wrapped my legs around his hips. I planted my lips on his and we kissed passionately, the roar from the waterfall applauding the gesture of kindness the beast had bestowed on his captive.

He turned and waded toward the torrent of water flowing over the rocky ledge.

"No-o-o-o-o!" I screamed, knowing I was about to get a cold shower.

My plea went unheeded. A grin lit up Garth's face as a stream of mountain water flowed onto his bald pate. I winced as droplets splashed onto my face, and shut my eyes as he turned to give my scalp the same treatment.

"This is fucking awesome!" he exclaimed.

My body was numb below the shoulders, my host's prediction that the cold bath I was enduring would take away my pain having come true. We kissed again as the water beat down on us, and I broke away to float on my back in our private pool.

He tickled my feet and I righted myself, treading water as I splashed him in payback for the interruption of my bliss. I tried to escape as he paddled toward me, only to feel his meaty hand on my scalp before he dunked me, holding my head under water just long enough for me to know who was the boss.

He released his grip on my skull and, fearing that I had stoked his wrath, trepidation welled within me as I floated to the surface. Garth was nowhere in sight when I opened my eyes after my head broke the surface, but a second my shoulders were in his grasp. He spun me around like a toy and pressed his lips against mine. We kissed passionately as I wondered whether in his mind the lips he was kissing were mine or those of some lost or unrequited love.

He scooped me up into his arms and streams of water flowed off my mane and torso as he waded toward shore. I shivered in the breeze as he carried me to the hillside, and soon found myself on my feet, standing on a ledge, at eye level with my tormentor. The cold water having served as an anesthetic and now temporarily free of pain, I was invigorated by the fantasy that he had turned, that he saw me as a human being and not an enemy to be slaughtered.

I pressed my lips against his and he wrapped his arms around my torso. Hot to feel his cock inside me, I sandwiched his organ in my slit and grinded against him as our tongues battled each other's. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lifted my legs, straddling his hips.

His rigid member slid into my pussy and he effortlessly pleasured himself by sliding my pelvis up and down over his cock. As I my arousal built, I decided that I must have him in every one of my orifices before my climax.

"I want to suck your dick, and then I want you to cum up my ass, I whispered.

I sighed as he lifted me up and his cock slipped out of my wet pussy. Numb to the rough surface of the limestone ledge, I sank to my knees. With my right hand stroking his still rigid member, I looked into his eyes, smiling lasciviously, waiting for the beast who I was convinced that I had tamed to demand I take his cock into my mouth.

No words emanated from the creature who had me in his grasp, my life or death his whim. He clutched my throat with his meaty hand, exerting just enough force to close my airway. I tried to talk, but he squeezed my larynx even harder, forcing me to beg with my eyes for my life not to be extinguished before I could finish pleasuring him, not missing a stroke on his cock even as I became dizzy. I did not resist as he dragged my face to his crotch, and he released his hand from my throat as I opened up my mouth to engulf his tumescent cock.

My head bobbed up and down as my tongue slid over the shaft of the rod that I hoped would continue serving as the key to the chamber of ecstasy in which I would bask as I felt my captor's love. As I sucked his dick, I fantasized that an earthquake would sever our abode from the rest of the world and that the two of us would live off nature, free from the chaos of the world that had driven our two tribes to mutual enmity.

His fingers ran through my mane as his arousal built. My tongue lighted upon the spot beneath the meatus of his cock that when teased just right by a fellatrix's tongue sends the recipient into the rapture she alone can provide.

Just before his orgasm became inevitable, I expelled him from my mouth. I pirouetted and bent over. My hands caught another limestone ledge on which I balanced, allowing me to thrust my butt at his crotch. He took the hint and I bit my lip as I absorbed his cock into my tender ass.

The pain turned into pleasure as he thrust into me over and over, gracious as I was to be alive and loved. I smiled as he spilled his juices inside me, convinced after receiving such exquisite pleasure, that my rapist would now forever be my lover and protector.

I felt the tumescence leave his member, both of us all fucked out. Kneeling before him, I licked my juices off his flaccid cock, and then stood up and embraced him, burying my head in his muscular chest.

We strode hand in hand back to the decrepit cabin, which I was intent on turning into a decent abode for us. The late afternoon sun shone into my eyes, and surprised my headache was gone, I decided someday to share the news with the world that lovemaking was an excellent cure for a hangover.

"Are you still going to throw my corpse into that hole tonight?" I asked as we passed the oak tree beneath which was my partially dug grave.

"It ain't deep enough yet," he answered, and I then knew, despite the respite, that my torment was far from over.