The blade caught some of the light from the dozen or so candles burning on top of an old trunk in the middle of the cellar floor, making it look like it was made of fire. “Don’t fight it, cunt, or I’ll cut you.”
Woofer started with her shoes. He ripped away the Velcro-and-leather fasteners, then tugged off both shoes at the same time. He lifted her left leg and began to slowly roll the ankle-length sock off her foot. She cringed at the touch of his stubby fingers on her flesh, but she resisted the urge to kick his hands away. He tossed the sock on the floor and seemed to take a fetishistic interest in her painted toenails. Candace thought he was going to kiss them or suck them and she shuddered at the thought.
“Come on, dipshit,” warned Shades. “We ain’t got all fucking night.”
Woofer removed the other sock, then reached under her roomy maternity blouse and unbuttoned her shorts. As he pulled the zipper down, Candace clasped her thighs together. Shades pressed the point of the knife to her throat and said, “Don’t.” Heeding the sharp warning, she relaxed her thighs and let them fall open. Woofer pulled off her shorts.
“Like them panties,” Woofer said with surprising gentleness in his voice. Then his voice turned rough and dirty as he added: “But it’s them big ol’ milky titties I wanna see.”
Candace closed her eyes. She was resigned to the fact that she was going to be raped by the two men. She would let them have their way with her so long as they did nothing to harm the baby in her womb. What choice did she have? If she tried to fight them off, they would respond with violence and probably injure the fetus her body had been nurturing for eight months. She could not let that happen. The old chauvinistic slogan popped into her mind: If you’re about to be raped, you might as well relax and enjoy it . She wouldn’t enjoy it, but she knew she had to do her best to relax. She could even pretend to enjoy it if it would keep her unborn infant from harm. She could get medical treatment afterward, including treatment for VD if necessary. Brad would probably have a harder time dealing with it than she would, but they could deal with it. The main thing now was to get out of this with as little injury to herself as possible and no injury to the baby.
“Raise your arms over your head, honey,” said Woofer.
She did. He pulled off her top. She kept her eyes closed. The bell boomed above.
When the cold steel of the knife’s blade touched the flesh between her breasts, she opened her eyes. Shades sawed through the thin cotton of her brassiere and her swollen breasts fell free.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Woofer said with unfettered enthusiasm. “Look at them beauties. Didja ever see such a pretty sight? Umm-umh.”
Shades smirked. “All-day suckers for sure. But we ain’t got all day. Get the spikes and shit.”
“Come on, man,” whined Woofer. “You gotta give me a minute with her. At least.”
“Bet you was a real momma’s boy,” Shades said with naked contempt. “Go on then. Suck yourself silly. I’ll get the shit.”
Candace saw that Woofer was actually drooling at the prospect of sucking her breasts, and she shuddered, even as she wondered what Shades meant when he said “spikes and shit.” What did they really want with her? If they simply wanted to rape her, why weren’t they already getting it over with? Why were they toying with her when that bell ringing above them might bring someone to investigate? She knew the fire-damaged church wasn’t used anymore for worship—or for anything else as far as she knew. She’d heard the same tales everyone else in town had heard about Reverend Craven’s rapid descent into madness and his insistence that Satan had taken over the church. Before he hanged himself in his jail cell, Craven admitted that he had started the fire in an attempt to drive the devil out of Druid Hills. Were Woofer and Shades psychotic devil-worshipers? Did
Woofer started with her shoes. He ripped away the Velcro-and-leather fasteners, then tugged off both shoes at the same time. He lifted her left leg and began to slowly roll the ankle-length sock off her foot. She cringed at the touch of his stubby fingers on her flesh, but she resisted the urge to kick his hands away. He tossed the sock on the floor and seemed to take a fetishistic interest in her painted toenails. Candace thought he was going to kiss them or suck them and she shuddered at the thought.
“Come on, dipshit,” warned Shades. “We ain’t got all fucking night.”
Woofer removed the other sock, then reached under her roomy maternity blouse and unbuttoned her shorts. As he pulled the zipper down, Candace clasped her thighs together. Shades pressed the point of the knife to her throat and said, “Don’t.” Heeding the sharp warning, she relaxed her thighs and let them fall open. Woofer pulled off her shorts.
“Like them panties,” Woofer said with surprising gentleness in his voice. Then his voice turned rough and dirty as he added: “But it’s them big ol’ milky titties I wanna see.”
Candace closed her eyes. She was resigned to the fact that she was going to be raped by the two men. She would let them have their way with her so long as they did nothing to harm the baby in her womb. What choice did she have? If she tried to fight them off, they would respond with violence and probably injure the fetus her body had been nurturing for eight months. She could not let that happen. The old chauvinistic slogan popped into her mind: If you’re about to be raped, you might as well relax and enjoy it . She wouldn’t enjoy it, but she knew she had to do her best to relax. She could even pretend to enjoy it if it would keep her unborn infant from harm. She could get medical treatment afterward, including treatment for VD if necessary. Brad would probably have a harder time dealing with it than she would, but they could deal with it. The main thing now was to get out of this with as little injury to herself as possible and no injury to the baby.
“Raise your arms over your head, honey,” said Woofer.
She did. He pulled off her top. She kept her eyes closed. The bell boomed above.
When the cold steel of the knife’s blade touched the flesh between her breasts, she opened her eyes. Shades sawed through the thin cotton of her brassiere and her swollen breasts fell free.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Woofer said with unfettered enthusiasm. “Look at them beauties. Didja ever see such a pretty sight? Umm-umh.”
Shades smirked. “All-day suckers for sure. But we ain’t got all day. Get the spikes and shit.”
“Come on, man,” whined Woofer. “You gotta give me a minute with her. At least.”
“Bet you was a real momma’s boy,” Shades said with naked contempt. “Go on then. Suck yourself silly. I’ll get the shit.”
Candace saw that Woofer was actually drooling at the prospect of sucking her breasts, and she shuddered, even as she wondered what Shades meant when he said “spikes and shit.” What did they really want with her? If they simply wanted to rape her, why weren’t they already getting it over with? Why were they toying with her when that bell ringing above them might bring someone to investigate? She knew the fire-damaged church wasn’t used anymore for worship—or for anything else as far as she knew. She’d heard the same tales everyone else in town had heard about Reverend Craven’s rapid descent into madness and his insistence that Satan had taken over the church. Before he hanged himself in his jail cell, Craven admitted that he had started the fire in an attempt to drive the devil out of Druid Hills. Were Woofer and Shades psychotic devil-worshipers? Did
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