Read Online Cautionary Tales by Piers Anthony - Free Book Online Page B

tenaciously. “Dammit, Maria! You know your status has changed. Get out of here.”
    â€œRape me first!” Her hands were clawing at his pajamas. “Like before.”
    He struggled to free himself, but it was like wrestling with a tar baby. She would not be dislodged short of mayhem. Which was of course what she wanted.
    â€œEnough!” He slapped her face with his open hand. It smashed her lips against her teeth, and a smear of blood appeared.
    â€œBeat me!” she gasped. “Make me hurt!”
    The violence and blood aroused him, as she intended. He grasped her by the neck, pinned her to the bed, rolled on top of her, and wedged his erect member between her wide-spread legs. “Resist me,” he reminded her.
    â€œYes! Yes! I fight you!” She hauled her legs together and struggled ineffectively to push his hands away.
    He squeezed her throat until her face reddened and her struggling weakened. She went limp. Then he rammed up between her loosened legs and into her vagina, thrusting once, twice, and climaxing. He put his face down to kiss her bruised mouth. She firmed her lips, kissing back avidly.
    Newton subsided, spent. “The irony is, you’re no masochist, Maria,” he said. “You’re a normal woman.”
    â€œI anything you want,” she said. “I wish you love me.”
    â€œMaria, you know my taste. You’re no longer a caged bird. You no longer hate and fear me. It’s over. Accept what I offer: decent employment.”
    â€œNot enough. You no love me, but I love you. The stockyard syndrome.”
    He had to smile. “Stockholm.”
    â€œAt least it like old time, right now. I felt your passion.”
    He rolled off her. “You play a dangerous game, Maria. I could have killed you in my rage.”
    â€œThen I die happy.” She was incorrigible. But she knew as well as he did that it was a bluff. He was a sadist and a rapist, but not a killer.
    â€œNow do what I tell you. Clean up, dress, go out to a motel later in the day. Use the grocery credit card to buy yourself something you like. Chocolate éclairs, perhaps.”
    She licked her lips, but shook her head. “They fatten me. I only jam them in hole and squeeze, pretend it you.”
    He had to laugh. His penis was huge and fat and soft, with custard for an emission? He wandered whether she would really do that. She just might. “I want to be alone tonight. To encourage her to come in.”
    â€œMaster, you no know what that lady dog intend. Maybe she a cereal killer. Maybe she come to rob and rub out you.”
    Newton smiled grimly, not bothering to correct what he knew was her misspelling of serial. “Then maybe I will die happy. Look at her!” For now the woman’s image on the screen was sharp. “What a stunner.”
    â€œI jealous.” And of course she was. But she got up, collected her things, and departed. She had no further reason to remain; she had after all succeeded in seducing him. That was a genuine, if minor, victory on her part.
    For Maria knew him for what he was. She had been his last victim, tricked into coming into this country undocumented for maidservant work, knowing very little English, then locked in his underground prison and forced into sexual slavery. She had been good for about six months, resisting bitterly as he repeatedly raped her, cursing him in her native tongue. But finally she had come to accept her situation, and even to enjoy their sexual sessions. They were better, she confessed, than being always alone and totally bored. But as her resistance eased, becoming token, so did his passion. He had given her more freedom, so that she had the chance to run away. She had not taken it. Now she was truly his loyal maidservant—and longed to be his captive again. It was ironic.
    But she typified his larger problem: he was not turned on by conventional love. He preferred hate. The girls he captured