AREA 47

SECTION 89:

COURTNEY, Chapter 59

Courty surfaced into echoing male laughter, and stood in the four feet deep water.  Her nose wrinkled at a strange, sharp smell in the air, like bitter-sweet incense.  She blinked the water out of her contact-covered eyes, thinking: What A Romantic Environment.

The light was low, upon the rocky surface of the interior that was about twenty-five feet in diameter.  A sort of underwater cave.  Smooth, flat boulders all around her, ahead of her the water becoming shallow, and on one of the boulders sat Eric Des Barres, high and dry, wearing his full tuxedo & ear pendant regalia, chuckling, shouting, “I knew you would come in here, Courty.  I knew it!  It’s just like you.”

It was such a violent surprise.  She was so shocked and petrified that she couldn’t speak.  She couldn’t scream.  She couldn’t move.  She could hardly breathe!

You do remember me, I hope,” Eric said.  His voice echoed weirdly in the small chamber, the wispy sounds coming from everywhere, stampeding into her ears.  “I love you.  I’ve been keeping track of you.  I saw you swimming: fantastic.  I was going to put on a suit, but one of the servants told me about this secret cave.  And I thought you would probably see the hole and swim in here.  I’ve been waiting!”

Courtney recovered her wits, flailed around wildly, and dove toward the swimming tube to GET OUT OF THERE!

Eric leaped up from his position, made swift, careful steps around the side of the grotto, and jumped down into the water between Courty and the swimming exit, blocking her, his patent leather shoes crashing down on her outstretched arms, hurting them.

Oh, GOD!

Her mind blasting with terror, she tried to swim-wade away from him, away from the swimming tube.

There’s got to be another exit!  He’s in here, and he was dry!  But where?!  Where?!

Eric caught up with her, grabbed her from behind.

At his touch, she screamed!  The noise shrieked and resonated the entire interior, impossibly loud, bouncing back at them from the rock surfaces all around them.

“Courty, I love you!  Don’t scream!”

Courty twisted around, slippery in his grasping arms, and tried to fight him.

She screamed again, and yelled: “God, HELP!  Someone HELP!”  A second scream, her thoughts blazing: Hear me!  Someone hear me!  Please!

“Shut up!” Eric yelled in a flash of anger.  He whacked her across the face, dazing her.  She fell back into the water, limp, getting water in her lungs, coughing and retching weakly.

He dragged her body toward the shallows, and into the shallower-than-shallow, where the water’s depth slanted and tapered to nothing.  He released her in the inches deep water, her face, face-down in two inches, so weak and dizzy she could barely raise her mouth out of the water to keep from drowning, her legs lay submerged in the one-foot depth.

Courty was still coughing, semi-conscious; Eric sat next to her on the incline of the flat submerged boulder.  He was sopping wet, his piss-elegant formal clothes post-shrunk, as he granted his fingers the reward of touching her.

Courtney came out of it, breathing short and fast, alarmingly weak.  FEELING his dreadful touch, as he stroked her bare shoulder and upper arm . . . FEELING IT!  His touch sent a shriek of silent fear through her soul, making her actually tremble, it was hypnotizing her: He was a cobra, to move or to make any squeak of noise could cause instant death.  Eric’s finger kept stroking her shoulder, over and over, the same fingernail scratching.

Eric finally spoke to her.  A slow, plodding seriousness.  And his sick voice . . . his vocal cords sounded more damaged than she remembered.  The echoing sounds were coarse and raspy.  “I love you, Courty.  I want you to marry me.  I want you to have my children.  As soon as we get married, the very day, right after the ceremony, I promise to sign over to you half my fortune.  I’ve already had my lawyers draw up the contracts.  They think I’m crazy; but I’m not, I’m perfectly sane.  Half of everything I have, will be yours.  In your name.  I love you, Courty.  I want you to have it.  Half of everything I will one day have, will be yours.  When my father dies I will inherit all of his Des Barres stock.  The Des Barres stock, by itself, is currently worth $7.5 billion American dollars.  My father is Lincoln Des Barres, the richest man in America.  Half of all that will be yours, one day.  I promise.  Doesn’t that make you happy?”

Courty could see the door.  It was closed, looked big and heavy, an emergency exit, like a Caesarean section to this womb . . . or tomb . . . She looked at the wet hand blandly stroking her bare wet shoulder, she looked at the dazzlingly handsome wet face of that wet hand.  His eyes were shining bright with insanity or love.

“I have brought with me tonight——it’s in my limousine——a Certified Bank Draft made out to you, Courty Ryan, in the amount of $25 million American dollars.  It’s a sort of engagement present . . . Some mad money!  An endowment prior to our marriage.  $25 million dollars!  Consider it an expression of my love and affection for you.  Doesn’t that make you happy, Courty?”

An awful intense silence of only the tiniest of water sounds.

“Doesn’t that make you happy, Courty?”

A ghastly imitation of a smile.  “Happy?  Heh . . . the word does . . . not quite . . . do justice to the full range of my emotions.”

“I understand.  Ecstatic joy, perhaps?”

He swooped down upon her, like a greedy vulture, his squishy tuxedoed body, heavy on her back; he pinned her arms above her, her wrists held by his strong fist.  “I love you!  You’re going to be the happiest woman in America!  Tell me you love me, Courty.  I want to hear it.”

He’s crazy.  My God, he’s absolutely insane!

Eric pulled Courty’s arms around behind her back, one at a time, slipped a plastic band around Courty’s crossed wrists, and cinched it tight; and to her amazement, she found her wrists cuffed together behind her back.

“Of course,” Eric said, the eerie words an echoing excruciation into her ears, “I know it may take some time for you to love me, to really love me; but that’s not important.”  Courtney felt him twist off her diamond engagement ring.  “This thing is history.”  She didn’t see what he did with it; she was too stunned to speak.

Courty could feel his weight shift around on top of her; he released her arms and grabbed one of her ankles, and she got the horrible feeling that he was going to tie her legs together.  She twisted around violently, thrashing with every desperate muscle, almost throwing him off of her; but he bent around and grasped her tightly around her back and held her almost helpless.

She dug her fingers into his stomach!

Eric yelled in pain, and sat up on her, holding her tied hands away from him.

“I love it when you fight me!” he hissed down at her, excited and overjoyed.  “You’re such a WOMAN!  You’re the ONLY Woman for me.  You’re the Only Woman Alive!  Oh, I love you SO MUCH, SO MUCH.  You’re DELICIOUS!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!”

“Is that why you gang-raped me?  Is that why you made a dirty movie out of my humiliation?  Is that why you tortured me!?  Is that why you shocked me, over and over, with that . . . THING?!”

He continued to sit on her legs, his weight heavy, but he was stilled.

“Eric,” she tried to reason with him, “if you love me, let me go.  Just let me go.”

“How did you know?”  There was a dangerous quiet to his tone of voice.

“Eric, let me go!”

“Never!”  He twisted around, and tried to tie her legs together.  She fought him desperately, splashing, kicking, thrashing around, her legs all over the place.  She was a wave-making machine, trying to buck him off.

Angry, he hit her in her right rump, as hard as he could, with his fist.

“Aaaagh!”  It was a stab of numbing pain.

Eric got her legs into the position he wanted them.  She was still face down on her stomach.  He pulled her knees wide apart in the water, and used another plastic disposable-cuff to tie her ankles together, cinching the plastic painfully tight, with her ankles crossed, her legs wide open, her feet pointing different directions, so that she couldn’t close her legs together, but had to keep them wide open.

“Eric!”

He got off, and pulled her over on her back, hurting her elbows and knees, the harsh way he did it.

“Eric!”

He pulled off his shoes and started to struggle out of his slacks.

“Oh, God.”  Courtney SCREAMED as loud as she could.  The shrill noise slapped back at them and echoed on after she stopped.  “HELP ME!!” she yelled.

Eric slapped her across her left cheek, a hard whack that dazed her and felt like it knocked her jaw out of joint.

“Shut up!” he yelled at her.  “No one can hear you anyway.”

This can’t be happening!  It can’t!

Eric started to take a number of items out of the inside pockets of his tuxedo coat, which he set along the surface of the flat boulder, out of the water.  Some packages of condoms, a dildo, a microbottle of lubricant, two little hand-rags, and an odd thing Courtney couldn’t identify.  He flopped his pants onto the boulder, and bent over to skim down his boxer shorts.

Courty pulled her knees up, HARD, and tried to strike him in the face.  But she was too slow, and he easily blocked her attempt.

“What a woman,” he said, admiring her spirit.

He tossed his sopping underwear onto the boulder.

“Isn’t it exciting, being all tied up?” he said, throwing himself on top of her.

His weight on her legs caused a sharp pain in her left ankle as her ankle joint was pressed down HARD against the boulder.

Courty resigned herself to another rape.  She was literally up to her ass in water, but she was as dry as a desert between her legs.  This wasn’t sex.  It was violence.  Her ankles and wrists were cinched far too tight, painfully tight.

After splashing about on top of her for a time——grabbing her joyfully (Yuck!), feeling her up with feverish lust (YEeeech!), Eric reached, and tore open one of the packaged condoms.  He put it on, just like they do on TV commercials.

“I don’t apologize for having you gang-raped,” he told her, “but I am sorry you got herpes.  That was not intended.”  He pulled aside the material of her swimsuit, and thrust the dildo against her genitals.

It was vibrating.  It was almost completely silent, but this was not a timid dildo, it was a high-powered
clit-blaster, a vaginal demolition unit that did things no flesh and blood penis ever dreamt of doing.

The surface of the boulder was painfully hard on the bones of her arms and legs; a killing pain on her left ankle, no matter how she tried to move it.  Arguing with him was worse than pointless——it was dangerous.

It was utterly grotesque, and vexing, but the damnable vibrator was exciting her.

“Ah, I see you like that, don’t you,” Eric said.

Rainfall in the desert.  The dildo, that pushed and twisted against her, slipped easily into her vagina.  But he didn’t leave it there long.  He pulled it out, lubricated it some more with the goop from the little bottle, wiping his fingers meticulously.  Then he pushed the dildo against her anus.

“Oh, come on, Eric!”

“Just relax, Courty, you’re going to love this.”

He pushed, slowly, deliberately, with increasing pressure; the twisting, icky vibrating monster was oozing and squirming far up her asshole.  It was also getting dreadfully WARM.

Eric’s cock still expanded the condom; he stuck his cock through a hole in a strange device, and then he got down and awkwardly inserted his cock part way into Courty’s vagina, again putting painful weight on her legs.

“Aaaaaah,” he said, with beatific satisfaction all over his face.

It was pernicious.

I’m being raped by vibrators!  There’s one up my anus, doing . . . shameful things.  And there’s a wicked one squeezing and pulsing on the glans of my clitoris.

Courtney’s first orgasm was bad, it actually hurt.

Her second orgasm was criminal; technological rape.  A minute after that, another foul orgasm; so HELPLESS.  Forced to feel a twisted semblance of pleasure.  It was TERRIBLE.

It was like an evil magic spell cast over her; something about the awful liquid intimacy or the cocaine or the twisted perversity of being tied up, cave sex, something, Something that defied reason or logic, kindled the sexual flame in her.  Maybe it was the psychopathic promise of twenty-five million dollars, practically already in her bank account.  Or the bughouse hints of BILLIONS of dollars guaranteed soon to be hers——which would certainly launch an adrenaline roller coaster in any woman with ears.

The abominable pleasure rushed over her, until she was moaning scandalously, moving her pelvis shamefully to increase the pleasure.  The nefarious sexual excitement had won over; it was naughty and unpardonable, but she was a wild woman, panting, throwing her head back and forth, squeaking; the orgasms were Promethean; her body was on Fire.

She was sore, she HURT, her ankles felt like they were bleeding, her feet, completely numb; her wrists were an awkward dull pain, but GAWD!  She was exploding like a bomb.

All at once, there was a burst of echoing noise in the small cave, laughter——Courty realized that someone else had surfaced into the cave.  A girl who said, “Oops!”

Courtney recognized Lauren’s voice: “Oh, my God.”

“Lauren,” Courty said, her voice sounding to her own ears, alien and exhausted, even comical, since she was right at the tail end of orgasmic contractions, “I’m being raped!  Help!”

Lauren laughed.  “Sorry, Byron.  Come on, Marty,” she said, and giggled.  A second later, the two had submerged, and were swimming out.

“Lauren!” Courty cried.  “Lauren!”  She thinks I’m joking!  She thinks Eric is Reed!  She’s blind as a deaf bat!

Tears started flowing down Courtney’s face and along her ears and neck.  “You bastard.  You bastard.”  She looked up into Eric’s dilated blue eyes that burned as he watched her face.

There were no more orgasms after that.  The execrable magic was gone, evaporated; all the vibrations and twistings against and inside of her private parts were only an offense to her flesh.  She was sickened, irritated; the perverse derangement of mind that had overtaken her was finished.

“I can see you’ve had enough,” Eric said.  He pulled his augmented penis out of her.  He slipped the condom off and flipped it back into the water.  He then eased the degenerate dildo out of her anus.  “We’ll have many such sessions as these,” he promised her.  He threw the dildo over his shoulder into the water.  Then he began to lovingly wipe Courtney’s genital and anal area with a clean wet cloth.  He laughed.  “I should have put on a swimsuit.  I didn’t expect to get all wet!”  Eric was delighted.  He pulled her swimsuit back in proper place.  He smiled, and bent over her and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek.  “I love you, Courty.  I really, really do.  I’ve never asked a woman to marry me before.  Never.”  He pulled a small penknife out of his pants, and cut the plastic strap that held Courtney’s ankles.

“Ooooh,” she said.  Relief.  Painfully, she let her legs straighten, and she bent her angles to encourage blood flow.  He then turned her over part way, and cut the plastic tie, releasing her hands behind her.

Wearily, she sat up on the wet, flat stone, in the inches of water, and looked up at him with exhausted disbelief.  He was standing up, putting on his wet clothes.

He just . . . got dressed.  It was apparent that he hated putting on the wet underwear, pants and shoes.  He chuckled a little at his clammy predicament.

“Wasn’t that just the best sex you’ve ever had?” he asked.

She didn’t dare speak.

He bent down beside her, picking up all the little items off the rock, pocketing them.  “I am going to get some dry clothes.  Get dressed, and come out to my limousine.  It’s the long one parked right out front, you can’t miss it.  The very first thing, I’ll present you with your $25 million dollar engagement check.  We’re starting a whole new life together.  It’s going to be wonderful!”

Then he frowned.

“What’s the matter, Courty?”

“Eric . . .”

“What is it you want to tell me?”

“Eric, this is all a little sudden, if you know what I mean.”

“I realize that.  But I’ve made up my mind.”

Finally, she said, “I’ll see you in your limousine.”

He smiled, pulled her face to his by her neck, and kissed her long and lingeringly.  Eric stood up.  “Don’t take too long.”  A bright, happy smile was on his face.  “We’ll be together always!”

Eric walked to the door in the cave wall, and opened it.

It automatically closed behind him.

Courtney closed her eyes and shook her head.  She was numb with disbelief.  Her body felt all stirred up inside.  Her ankles were bleeding from where the plastic had cut into her skin.

She felt so overwhelmed her thoughts not only didn’t go anywhere, they couldn’t even get started.  Her swimsuit felt like it was full of warm oatmeal, all around her genitals.

Courtney’s body eased itself slowly into the water, waded toward the underwater swimming tube, submerged, and swam out of the cave, back toward the swimming pool.

The disco-loud Rock-and-Roll was bouncing over the water when Courtney’s body surfaced.  Lauren and Marty and the pro-swimmer were the only people around the pool area.  The pro-swimmer had come back.  They were all dancing to the music, still in their swimsuits.

Courtney’s body swam toward the pool-ladder near the changing rooms.  Courtney’s body climbed out of the pool.  Courtney’s body stopped walking, blocked by the penilingus professional, who was fulsomely oral about something.  Courtney’s black & white eyes watched the two-dimensional mouth move.  Courtney’s low-fi ears listened to the stream of monaural meaningless sounds.

Please Stand By.  We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties.

Courtney’s mouth said something that may or may not have sunk its teeth into the root of the topic: “All you have to be is you.”  Courtney’s body walked around the sucking Sidekick much the same way as it had earlier swam around the frigging Buffy Buns fan.

Courtney’s body walked inside the women’s changing room.  Courtney’s body found its clothes, still in the large locker.

Courtney’s body took off the wet swimsuit, shivered violently for a few seconds; toweled off, still trembling slightly, dabbed gently at its genitals, and began to redress.

“Courty,” Lauren said, from behind her.  Her tone of voice communicated a universe, conjured REALITY back into existence for Courtney Ryan.

Lauren slinked out of her bikini bottom, right next to Courtney, opened her own locker, and went about dabbing here and there, daintily with her towel.  “My, my.  You make me envious.”  She waved a hand in front of Courty’s eyes, which barely noticed the fingers.  Lauren giggled.  “My, my, MY!”

“I can’t do a 3-way with you tomorrow.”  Not looking at Lauren, Courtney climbed into her clothes.

“Why not?  Oh, you didn’t tell Byron, did you?  Oh, Courty, how could you?”

“That wasn’t Reed.”  Courtney climbed into her clothes.

“Wasn’t Byron Reed?  Then, who were you . . . ?”

“It was Eric.  Eric Des Barres.”

An eyebrow shot up, getting lost under Lauren’s wet bangs.

“He raped me.”  Her voice was half-past dead, as she climbed into her clothes.

A jaw dropped, nearly banging down against Lauren’s moist navel.

“He RAPED You??!” Lauren yelled, loud enough to wake deaf people in West Virginia.

Courty looked at Lauren for the first time.  Lauren was a bundle of alarm.  Courty was burnt toast, anybody’s lunch meat.  “It’s a secret,” she said, vapidly.  “Please stay with me until I find Reed so he can take me home.  I don’t want to be alone.”

But Lauren stared with choked horror at Courtney.  The words just RUSHED out of her.  “We could have stopped him!  Oh my God, we could have stopped him, you told me, you told me you were being raped, and I didn’t believe you, my God, oh my God, I’m so sorry, I thought you were joking, I thought, we thought . . .”  Her suddenly silent lips got caught in a tremor, and then she closed her eyes tight as a gusher of tears flowed down her cheeks.

Courtney put both her arms around Lauren and hugged her, comforting her, comforting herself.  “It’s all right,” Courty said.  “It’s all right.  It was too late by then anyway.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” the other girl cried, as she hugged Courty tight.

“It’s all right,” Courtney said quietly, stroking Lauren’s tangled wet hair.  “It’s all right.”

COURTNEY, Chapter 60
 

Copyright 2005 Area 47