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Wren |
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Chapter Ten The guy started yelling, "She got blood on me," and more. While they were busy outside her shed, Wren took a piss in the bucket, which was getting full and stank as the piss in it fermented. Everything stank in her shed, so much, she couldn't get used to it. She stank, her blanket stank, the bucket stank and she was out of toilet paper. Whenever she thought about where she was and what she was doing a moment of confusion set in. What was her life hadn't always been like this and she remembered bits from a dark past. An awareness, for just a second, of a road through a southern pine forest which went on forever, narrow, straight with intersections every now and again but the car she was in never turned. Brad used to tell her how much was in the can every night when he had her inside, before feeding her and sending her out again. Seven dollars, ten, twelve, eight fifty-seven, nine even, and once eighteen dollars and thirty-six cents. Five dollars was twenty, ten was forty plus all the others who put in pennies and rocks or didn't even bother. Say two hundred times a week at least, maybe several times that. A thousand times a month. Numbers that didn't mean anything since there was no definable past in her life anymore. Incidents occurred in the present, a fucking or a beating, and the present was all she knew. She did remember the first time with Brad, but that memory was overlaid with all the other times and was blurred. A key opened the lock, the hasp slammed against the door and Brad stood in the bright light. "Come on," he said. She crawled after him, not looking over her shoulder to see how many were waiting for her by her shed. The young girl was there; she did see her, watching, standing just outside the yard in the tall weeds, staring. Maybe the girl wasn't really there. Wren couldn't be sure. "Inside," Brad said. "You fucking stink. You know that?" He made her stay in the kitchen, left her and she heard voices; then he came back. "Stand over there." She stood by the wall with no window, facing him. "Fuck, Wren. You're a mess." He pushed her against the wall and felt her cunt. The bloody fingers were waved in her face. "What's this?" She drank with her eyes his face, his lips, a glutton for anything after her dark shed. "Answer me." "My period," she whispered. She hadn't talked since when, except in her dreams. She talked all the time in her dreams. "Make me some coffee." She looked about the kitchen but didn't know where to begin. "I love you," she said. He slapped her. "Dog shit, dog shit. Whoever gave you permission to do anything except be the town's fuck hole?" She smiled at him, crying. It was hard to explain but being touched by him made her happy. She wasn't sure if he even remembered where she was when she was in her shed, wasn't sure if he cared. Cared enough to keep her, cared enough to discard her. "Make me some coffee." "I don't know how." Anymore. She didn't know anything. Brad scratched his bare chest, left her. She looked out the window at her shed. There were men waiting. She wondered what they thought of their few minutes with her, of her shame. "Come here," Brad said. He tugged her leash and she followed, dropping naturally to her hand and knees. She saw a bare foot with red toenails hanging off the end of Brad's bed. "Turn over," Brad told the woman on the bed. Wren waited while Brad fucked the woman on the bed. When he was done he pulled Wren up onto the bed and pushed her head down onto the woman's cunt. "Eat." The woman wasn't Laura, shorter, red haired, heavily freckled, and plump. Wren licked and sucked Brad's come from her. The woman didn't move. Brad left them and Wren heard him hammering outside. "Get off," the woman said. "Get off me." Wren knelt on the floor. The woman dressed, leaving the room and coming back as she put on clothes, a bra, panties, stockings and slip. A dark blue dress that buttoned down the front. The woman came back wearing shoes and said to Wren, "Tell your boyfriend I've gone." The woman left her and Wren heard the door slam. Not once in all this time had Brad ever used her cunt. He used her mouth most often, but half the time cuffed her ears and stopped before coming. It seemed the longer she spent in her shed, the less she saw him or his friends. Brad made her kneel in the kitchen as he drank his coffee, watching her intently. His shirtsleeves were unbuttoned and fell back on his arms as he drank. "I've a mind to," he said. He left her, taking his cup. She wanted him to bring her stick. She could come without it, only liked it because of the look on Brad's face when it was in her. His casual interest, easily distracted. "Come on," he said. He held a jumble of cotton line in his hand. She followed, crawling more slowly than he walked, trying to keep up. He led her to the wall outside next to the spigot. "Your hands," he said. "Stand up, you fucking slut." She rose and offered her wrists crossed, keeping her head bowed. Brad quickly tied them. "Over there," he said. There was a hook on the wall of her shed, about six inches from the ground. He forced her to bend, her roped wrists snagged the hook and she was compelled to remain bent over. Brad washed her as the men watched. The hose's hard spray went over her whole body but focused on her ass and cunt. She was left to dry, heard more pounding and the men talking. Sometimes Wren thought, I'm tired of this, and began to make plans to leave. That happened less and less frequently now. She wanted Brad to like her. She imagined them both talking early in the morning over breakfast before he sent her out to her shed. She imagined pleasing him by her diligence and her openness. Brad would take a moment to caress her before locking her shed door behind him and going back to bed. Brad would handle her breasts with a smile, a secret they shared. She was made to sit on the wood bar, legs fully extended, on her toes. Her wrists were hung from a hook on the eaves of the house high over head and she looked out into the yard. After a moment she had to settle her weight on the wood bar and it cut sharply into her cunt. She rose back onto her toes and stayed there as long as she could. The bar was supported by legs, four of them, two in back of her and two in front. The lumber was old, brown and sturdy. "Look at me, dog shit." Wren raised her eyes. Brad's pale eyes stared back. "Look at them." She faced into the yard. The men clustered by her shed. The girl stood off by the side of the house in the tall weeds. "You'll say you're sorry. You'll beg their forgiveness for dirtying them and you'll explain who and what you are and for what purpose you were created." Created, she thought. "I'm sorry." She licked her lips and raised off, as much as she could, the bar with the cruelly sharp edges. "I'm sorry and I hope you'll forgive me." Most of the men who used her never saw her. She never saw them. "Finish it." "I." "Come for them." She closed her eyes and focused inside her, where the pain was. The orgasm roared out of her, and when she opened her eyes she was hanging from her wrists, sitting on the bar and facing the sky. She'd said something or screamed or something and tried now to lick the spittle from her chin. "She does that all day in that shed. She can't control herself. I'd give a hundred dollars to the man who marries her. Finish it, dog shit." "Dog shit," she said. "My name used to be, I've forgotten, and now it's dog shit. I'm a cunt, a mouth and an ass who calls herself dog shit and I'm open for anyone. Please," she said. "Please what?" "It hurts. Please. Another." "An hour on the horse and then she's free all day. Out in the yard, whatever you want to do to her." Brad said only to her, "They woke me up because of you and now I have to sit out here and make sure you don't wander off, you worthless piece of shit." "Please," she said. "It hurts." "It? It hurts? Who are you talking to?" "Dog shit's cunt hurts, Brad." "I'm not interested in listening to your whining." He left her and walked to the girl watching them. Dog shit, Wren. Dog shit rose onto her toes and wriggled her fingers, trying to disrupt the painful sensation in her hands. "You," Brad said to the girl. "If I ever see you here again, I'll toss you in the shed with her. Understand?" The girl's eyes were huge as she stared at Brad. "Get out of here." The girl looked at dog shit and left, wading through the weeds. The men were closer now. "I bet that hurts," one said. "I'll be back in an hour," Brad said. He went inside, slamming the door. One of the younger ones reached to her and pinched her tit. Dog shit bounced on the bar, rose back onto her toes and looked away. "Here," he said, turning her face. "Look at me." He smiled at her. She tried to smile back. "She looks better than I thought she'd look," someone said. The young man kicked her foot from under her and she landed hard on the bar. "She looks like a whore to me. I wouldn't marry her for a million dollars." He took out a cigarette and lit it. "I'll be back in an hour," someone said. Several men left. The young man poked at her with the cigarette and she flinched. Wren. Dog shit. Wren watched the cigarette's glowing end as he smoked, standing too close to her. "You're a hairy one, aren't you?" The young man stroked her underarm with the finger holding the cigarette. Go
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