A Shy Guy s Notebook Part Two Following the Book s Commands
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Béla Book 7: Time Enough To DreamChapter 6 free porn video
He opened his eyes to darkness, confusion; a heavy, painful throbbing in his leg. Trying to move it, to get more comfortable, he cried out as a sharp stab of pain washed over him, emanating from the center of his throbbing leg and making him retch. He shook, cold and sick to his stomach from the pain that wracked his body.
‘My leg is broke, ‘ he realized, ‘and I’m going into shock... ‘
He cried for help into the surrounding darkness and was disturbed at the thin, quivering sound of his own voice. He tried to steady himself, to call out with more affirmation – surely someone had to be close enough to hear – certainty in his dominance over others giving him strength. He knew that if he was in trouble, someone would come. People who refused Rick Colby often found themselves in dire straits.
His voice grew hoarse from shouting and he abandoned his vocal efforts for the moment, even though shouting into the darkness seemed to keep the throbbing agony in his leg at bay. He lay back, groaning loudly at the effort, gasping, already exhausted from his efforts.
He realized now that he’d been too merciful with that Cutberg woman; he should have killed her when he had her in his grasp. But he saw her capitulation and recognition of his mastery in her eyes. She shouldn’t have been able to betray him like that. She should have been numb with fear and awe of him. Didn’t she know that he would most certainly kill her for that treason? Surely life under his dominance would be better than being tortured to death, which would be her fate as soon as he managed to escape from ... wherever she had trapped him.
He grimaced again, unable to keep the pain-filled groan from escaping his lips as he struggled to his feet. Losing his balance, he pitched forward in the darkness and slammed against a heavy dirt wall. Leaning against it and bracing with his good leg, Rick managed to right himself, though he was perspiring heavily and gasping for air, grunting with each laborious breath as he cherished his small victory.
Slowly and with a great deal of pain from his broken leg, Rick began to feel his way around the chamber where he found himself – a dark, underground pit that he fervently hoped wouldn’t become his tomb – determined to find, or create, an exit.
Before he had clambered his way halfway, in his estimation, around the pit, he heard footsteps approaching – a heavy pair of boots, or maybe heels – walking on the floorboards of the barn, above him.
“Lemme outta here!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
For an instant the footfalls stopped, then continued. Another pair joined the first, and both stood directly over the trap door he’d fallen through when that Cutberg slut had hit the switch. He clambered back into a corner, shivering as cold dirt broke loose and crumbled down inside the back of his shirt. Rick breathed heavily through his teeth, hoping and praying that something would trigger the latch and that trap door would come swinging down, bringing whoever was standing above down. Even with a broken leg, Rick had no doubt he could tear apart anyone who was foolish enough to get close to him.
“Noisy, ain’t he?” he heard a muffled female voice say.
“What are we going to do about food and water?” a different version of the same voice asked. So now Rick knew the identities of the two females – Ember and Amber.
“He can starve, for all I care,” the first voice replied. “After what he did to you, I’ll happily take a shovel and fill in that hole down there, with him still in it!”
“Amber! That’d be murder!”
“Jesus Christ, it’s just like you to go soft on a man who beat the crap out of you and then raped you!”
“I’m the one who put him down there,” Ember argued. “I feel responsible for him. He’s gonna need food and water.”
“Don’t you feel just the least bit angry about what he did to you?” Amber cried, certainly feeling enough anger for the both of them, Rick thought as he listened.
“Well, yeah,” Ember admitted, actually sounding apologetic. “When I hit that switch, I wanted him to break his fool neck when he fell. But he didn’t. I went down and checked he was still breathin’.”
“In your condition?” Amber asked, disbelieving. “How did you get back out?”
“I took the cage down,” Ember replied, pointing up to the rafters directly over their heads. “I’d’ve put him in it, but he was too heavy.”
“I’m surprised you could even walk, the way you looked when you staggered out of the barn...” Amber grumbled. “He almost killed you!”
“He was unconscious,” Ember countered. “And I needed to find out if’n I’d kilt him or not.”
“You broke my leg, you bitch!” Rick yelled up at the heavy wooden ceiling. “You get me outta here! You gotta set my leg or I’ll be crippled the rest of my life. You hear me?”
“A dirty old cripple can’t go ‘round beatin’ up girls and rapin’ them, so you can just stay down there ‘til your fuckin’ leg rots off, you asshole!” Amber screamed down at the floor. “I hope it becomes infected and kills you, you bastard! You don’t deserve to live!” She stomped on the floor to emphasize her words. Ember wrapped her arms around her livid sister and made shushing noises against the side of her head.
“Shhh! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s not gonna hurt anyone. We got him locked away, and he’s gonna stay there for a while. You screamin’ at him just makes him happy. It’s what he wants.”
“He almost killed you!” Amber cried, burying her face in Ember’s soft shoulders and sobbing with frustration and fear for what almost happened.
“So we just leave ‘im there an’ ignore him,” Ember offered. “That’ll make him madder’n snot. It will, I swear. We’ll just leave him down there for a while to rant by himself. Okay? That’s the worst we can do to him right now.”
“We can take him to the Goddess and have his mind erased!” Amber snarled. “We’ll threaten him with that before we do it, too! That’s almost as good as killing him!”
Ember chuckled to herself, still holding her twin and rocking her while making soothing noises. “My, you sure are bloodthirsty. You don’t really want to kill anybody, do you?”
Amber sniffed, doing her best to bring her ineffectual rage under control. After a moment, she shook her head, No. “But we can’t have him stay here; we have to take him back to the Goddess’ Temple.”
“There’s nobody there,” Ember reminded her. “Everyone’s gone off on some great adventure back to Earth. We’ll have to wait for someone to come.” She had gotten her sister to the barn door by now, and they both stood in the bright, artificial sunlight of the Southern crystal sun. “In the meantime, we can keep him in the cage so he won’t kill us all in our sleep.”
“Most likely he’d kill Roland and the boys,” Amber growled, more under control now. “He’d save something special for us.”
“Well,” Ember replied cheerfully, “We got something special for him, too.”
Rick Colby crouched in the stand of trees behind the Cutberg farm, soaked in cold perspiration and gasping in pain from the splintered femur in his leg. The crystal suns were dark for the time being, and everyone at the farm was asleep.
He’d wanted to butcher the entire clan for trapping him in that iron cage, but it had taken most of the night simply to work his way free, physically lifting the cage up and sliding beneath it, crying and whimpering with every move of his unset, broken leg.
He’d beaten the crap out of that Cutberg woman, and raped her half to death as well, but that still hadn’t kept her from springing that awful trap. As he thought about the previous day’s events now, he realized that the evil bitch had willingly allowed herself to be viciously brutalized, just for the excuse to spring that trap on him. Now that was Evil Incarnate!
Searching around his hidey hole, he found a relatively straight branch he could use as a splint so that the break in his femur wouldn’t move and pain him so much. Using his belt and a sleeve torn from his jacket, he splinted his leg up as best he could, crying out several times in the process. By the time he was satisfied with the job, there were tears of agony wetting his bristly cheeks.
By the time he’d camouflaged himself beneath the loam and the layer of leaves, the Southern crystal sun was beginning to glow. The birds in the trees above him ignored him and began their morning twitters and chirps. From the racket the sparrows made as they woke each other up, Rick was beginning to believe there were a couple hundred of the damned things, right over his head, deliberately chirping and twirping as loud as they could in order to keep him from being able to sleep the day away.
‘Not that my damned leg is gonna allow me to get any sleep anyways, ‘ he thought angrily, deciding that those twin bitches needed to die for what they did to him. ‘Nobody can do that to Rick Colby and get away with it!’
He spent most of the daylight hours dreaming about what he would do to them, his imagination fired by the agonized throbbing of his leg. In his delirium, he could almost feel the knife in his hands sliding into a slender female belly, over and over, the knife handle getting slick with the gush of hot, sticky blood as one or the other, either Ember or Amber, whimpered, cried and begged for their lives. Behind them, in his fevered delusions, Roland would already be lying in a pool of blood, dead on the floor for the evil bitches to grieve over as they were slowly eviscerated.
The Southern crystal sun was joined by the Northern sun and for a time, both claimed the summer sky with their bright warmth. After a time, the Southern sun dimmed, and was followed by the Northern crystal sun several hours later. By the time it was dark again, Rick’s clothes were soaked in sweat and other bodily fluids. Unable to move, Rick had pissed himself twice. In addition, even with the savage pain radiating from his leg, his imagined butchery of those two bitches kept him in a state of arousal throughout the day and he masturbated four times, ignoring the smell of his piss and the pain of his leg in his desperate, fevered need for revenge.
He finally fell asleep, his tongue and throat raw from dehydration and his clothes so soaked with his own piss and cum that the front of his pants stuck to his belly. Even in his tortured dreams, he rubbed his hand against his cock, sliding it back and forth beneath his pants, reveling in the slippery feel of hard flesh and his own cum. It was the blood dripping down from knife-sliced female bellies that made him feel so slippery in his dreams, and the smell of cum and dank, overstressed sweat glands was overpowering and mind-numbingly sensuous.
“Get up, you fucker,” growled an angry male voice. It was accompanied by a gouge from something hard and metal shoved into his ribs.
Rick jerked and tried to sit up, then winced, blinking rapidly as bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. The second sensation that assaulted him was the dull throbbing from his splinted leg. Then he noticed the smell – stale cum, the overpowering smell of his piss and sweat.
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