Bitter Vintage by M.L. Grider

Author:M.L. Grider [Grider, M.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781936966158
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 40071561
Publisher: Thursday Night Press Ltd.
Published: 2018-09-04T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

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Pearce sat naked at his computer. On the screen in front of him was the body of a woman in black lace panties and bra. He had downloaded the image from a porn site, but the face was Amy’s, from one of her modeling pictures he had acquired on the net.

Slowly he put the telephone receiver down and stared at the picture. The walls of his plush office were covered with printouts of Amy. All the pictures from her portfolio, and several Pearce had made himself by combining porno shots and Amy’s face. Some even showed him having sex with her.

He leaned back in his leather chair and closed his eyes in bliss as the conversation began to play back on the recorder.

“Dresden Antiquities, Amy speaking. How may I help you?” He hit a few keys and the greeting played over again. Pearce sighed as he heard the voice again, and again.

Finally, when he was sufficiently aroused, he stood up and walked through the rambling Victorian house. Pearce was not the least bit self-conscious about his nudity, or his erection. He lived totally alone. There were no servants to pry into his privacy. No neighbors for miles around. He made his way into the kitchen. Then he descended into the wine cellar.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights; he knew every inch of the catacombs beneath the old house. He and his greedy brother and slut sister had played here as children. Until he had had to correct them. He didn’t need light to find his way.

Pearce heard the whimpering before he reached her. For the first day, she had screamed in agony as the effects of the drugs wore off and her body demanded another fix. Now she just lay on the stone floor in her own waste, barely able to move.

Pearce stood in the darkness by the arched doorway and listened. He threw a switch on the wall and illuminated the human wreckage chained to his “playroom” floor. She did not acknowledge his presence. In the two days since he had sodomized her in the abandoned hotel room he had beaten her savagely several times, but he had not been able to rape again. She just didn’t arouse him, even when she was in the throes of agony from withdrawal. And that made Pearce even more angry. That was why he had to beat her senseless more than once. Pearce did not know he had broken three of her ribs, her jaw, wrist, and collar bone. Or that she was bleeding internally from the last beating.

As for her, her mind was completely broken. She was beyond physical pain now, in a state between delirium and catatonia. She did not seem to feel Pearce mount her or begin to rape her. Because she did not struggle, or cry out, or fight back, Pearce could not maintain his enthusiasm. After only a few thrusts into her, his erection was gone. This infuriated him even more, he stood over the prostrate prostitute and shouted obscenities.

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