18 year old virgin marries Howard and her life decends into a Hell of violent rape, sodomization and beatings
Chapter One (Charlotte’s Agony)
Charlotte Napier was a bitter, bitter woman. She’d married at eighteen; she’d been a na? virgin and fallen for Howard Napier’s lies. She’d married him and they’d ended up living in a shack at the back of his parents’ farm. It was perfect for Howard, no rent to pay, he didn’t even have to pay the electric bill, he burned the trash so no pick-up costs, the water was from the well and the sewage was handled by a septic tank. They didn’t really have to pay for much besides food and clothing. It was perfect for Howard, it left him with plenty of money for liquor, and Howard was a hard drinker.
It was hell for Charlotte, isolated in a shack on the back side of the back forty; she had no transportation, no phone and no friends. Her honeymoon had lasted about a week before Howard had come home drunk. Charlotte wanted to know why he was late and why he’d been drinking. Howard didn’t answer her, he slapped her.
Then he came at her screaming, “Don’t question me woman, damn it don’t question me.”
And he slapped her again, hard; she fell to her knees, crying.
“Quit the damned bawling,” he screamed as he pulled her back up on her feet and pushed her toward the bedroom.
He shoved her across the bed and, with an evil grin said, “Charlotte honey, it’s time for you to do your wifely duty.”
Charlotte knew what he meant and she wanted nothing to do with him, she hissed, “You stay away from me Howard, you just stay away.”
Charlotte was starting to rise from the mattress when Howard pushed her back and pinned her. He said, “Oh you will do your duty as he ran his hand under the skirt of her thin housedress and squeezed her sex hard, hurting her.”
“Howard, no, please don’t do this,” she cried.
Howard laughed as he ripped the front of her dress exposing her bra, then grabbing that he ripped it off. “You will do your duty to me Charlotte,” he admonished her as he squeezed her bare breast.
He was hurting her and she tried to cover herself, crossing her arms over her chest.
Howard didn’t mind, it wasn’t really her tits he wanted. He flipped the hem of her dress up over her stomach, grabbed her panties and tore them from her. She tried to roll away from him.
She was on her stomach, trying to pull herself over the edge of the bed when Howard grabbed her legs and pulled her back, across his lap. There was just a scrap of her torn underwear covering her bottom when Howard lifted her dress.
“You’re being a bad girl Charlotte; do you know what happens to bad girls?”
She didn’t answer him, instead pleading, “Please Howard don’t do this, please.”
“Charlotte, you didn’t answer me, what happens to bad girls?”
He had her pinned down with one hand pressing in the small of her back. The other grabbed the shred of her panties and ripped it away, intoning, “Charlotte, what happens to bad girls?”
“If you won’t answer me, I’ll tell you. Charlotte, bad girls get spanked;” and he slapped her ass, hard.
He continued to pound on her for ten minutes, slapping her bottom and the backs of her thighs, reddening and then bruising her. When he finally stopped, she lay limply, sobbing in pain. Howard pushed her off his lap and straddled her hips, pushing himself against her bare bruised buttocks. He pulled her hair, bringing her head toward him and hissed in her ear, “You’re God damned lucky I don’t just take you like this, but, bitch, I want some pussy,” as he flipped her over onto her back.
Charlotte was beyond fighting him; she lay limply as he splayed her legs and forced himself into her.
Charlotte had only lost her virginity less than a week before, she still tight and sore, when Howard rammed into her she was unlubricated and it tore her dainty tissues, Charlotte screamed in agony.
“Yeah, that’s it bitch, scream for me,” Howard tormented her as he continued his assault.
Time after time he thrust into her, tearing her more as she screamed in agony. At last Howard’s semen spewed into her. He pulled out and wiped himself clean on her dress.
“Oh Baby, that was some hot pussy and I loved listening to you, God, you’ve got some lungs girl.”
Charlotte got up and limped to the living room where she slept on the sofa under a sheet. When she awakened the next morning Howard was already gone.
He wasn’t quite as late getting home that night but he still had beer on his breath. Charlotte was so sore and beaten down that she’d gone to the bed. That’s where she was when Howard came in.
He looked down at her and chuckled, “Oh lookey here, Baby’s already in bed waiting for me. You ready for me Baby?” Howard asked as he took his clothes off.
Charlotte’s eyes widened in fear as Howard came to the bed, saying, “Please Howard, don’t, you hurt me, you hurt me bad.”
“Hey that was your fault woman; you’re supposed to take care of your husband’s needs.”
He turned down the sheet; she was in a night gown. He raised the hem of her gown, she’d put on fresh panties.
He asked, “You gonna take those off or do you want me to?”
Charlotte knew she wasn’t going to fight him, not after last night and she didn’t want another pair of panties torn from her. She shimmied out of the panties, spread her legs and prepared to accept him.
“Now isn’t this easier Baby,” Howard said as he settled between her thighs.
Charlotte whimpered as he forced his way into her, she was sore, tender and swollen from his assault the previous night. Fortunately, he was fast, cumming in a matter of minutes; he pulled out and went to the living room to watch TV.
It was nearly eleven before Howard came back to the bedroom. He only had on a pair of boxers; he dropped them to the floor and pulled down the sheet.
Howard had planned to go to sleep but Charlotte’s night gown had ridden up, she hadn’t put her panties back on, she was sleeping on her belly, and her still reddened cheeks were a sight to behold. Howard wasn’t tired any longer, he was stiff.
He straddled her hips and tried to lift her, he wanted her from behind, doggie fashion. Charlotte woke up when he pulled up on her. She didn’t think she could endure it again, she said, “No Howard, not again tonight, please.”
Howard of course wasn’t swayed. He got up, picked Charlotte up and lay her belly down over the arm of their bedroom chair, swatted her tender bottom then using his knee he forced her legs apart and thrust into her.
It didn’t hurt quite as much as before, Howard slid in easily, she still had a cunt full of his cum from earlier, it worked as a lubricant.
She thought he felt bigger this was, he was going deeper into her.
Howard spread her cheeks exposing her rosebud. He rubbed it, just messing around but, Charlotte cried out, “no Howard, not there, please Howard.”
Howard quit playing and grabbing her hips fucking her hard.
If Charlotte hadn’t reacted like she did, Howard would probable never gotten the idea. He was a pussy man, had never had anal sex and hadn’t much thought about it but he was thinking about it now, not tonight but soon.
The following Friday, pay day, Howard didn’t get home ‘til after 10:00 p.m. and he was in a mean, nasty mood. Charlotte tried to stay out of his was but he wouldn’t let her, he verbally abused her, calling her a fucking cunt, a no account wife and a sorry piece of ass.
He followed her from room to room as she tried to escape his tirade but he wouldn’t let her.
Finally, to the sorry piece of ass insult she reacted. Wheeling on him she screamed, “Well you seem to like it enough. You rape me every night. Go away Howard, just go away and leave me alone.”
Charlotte had tears in her eyes as she tried to walk by him, to get away.
He grabbed her as she tried to get past, spinning her around and hissing, “Let’s just find out how God damned good it is,” as he pushed her toward the bedroom.
Charlotte thought, Oh God what have I done, I just had to open my mouth. But then she thought, it didn’t matter; he’d have found some pretext to abuse her.
“Get out of your damned clothes and get on the bed Howard growled.”
She tugged her dress over her head and stood in just her panties and bra.
“I said get them off, I meant all of them, now strip or I’ll help you.”
Fearfully, she unhooked and removed her brassiere then slid her panties down over her hips, letting them drop to the floor.
He pushed her backwards and she fell on the bed, her legs akimbo, as her moved toward her. She rolled over and tried to crawl away.
Howard grabbed a foot and jerked her back toward him, yelling, “Where in the hell do you think you’re going. Get back here.”
Charlotte tried to pull free but Howard dragged her back and grabbed her around her hips, lifting her. He carried her to the chair and bent her painfully over the arm.
“You think you can get away from me do you bitch, I’ll teach you,” he said as he opened her legs.
She heard a strange sound, it sounded like he’d spit then she felt him rub something wet on her anus. She wanted to scream for mercy but all she did was scream as he forced himself into her, thrusting hard, powering through her sphincter, tearing her, filling her bowel and filling her body with a greater agony than she knew existed.
“Howard was hammering into her, driving deeper. She heard him chuckle, “I was wrong, this a great piece of ass; damn you’re tight bitch, scream some more for me,” he said as he slammed into her again.
“God damned you’re tight. I like this.”
Charlotte felt his cock swell and was afraid he was going to hurt her more but he pulled her bottom tightly against him, quit pumping then she felt him flood her bowels with his cum. He started pumping her again but not nearly as hard, he was just emptying himself before he pulled out. When he did he just left her lying over the chair while he went to the bathroom.
Charlotte continued to lie over the arm, too sore to move, broken. Her mind wandered but finally she became centered, she couldn’t live like this, she’d get a divorce.
The next week she missed her period. Oh no, this can’t be happening to me, she thought, but it was happening, she was pregnant.
When she told Howard he said, “Well maybe you are good for something after all; you going to give me a son?”
“I hope so Howard,” she said. She didn’t want to give him a kid, she just wanted gone but that would have to wait. She thought she’d get one benefit out of being preggers; at least he wouldn’t be so abusive to her. Wrong, he still took her whenever the mood struck him and he still liked to spank her for any infraction, real or imagined.
He hadn’t hit her in the face since that first night when he’d slapped her, no, the only bruising he was left was on her bottom, from what he called, her discipline, an excuse to whip her. The real damage he did was to her vagina, her rectum and her psych.
It was still nearly every night, she dreaded his coming home. He’d even added a new twist to his repertoire of pain. He loved to bend her over the chair and spank her before cramming himself through her unlubricated anus and into her bowel. God how she hated that and how she hated him. It was just pain and more pain.
She was late into her second trimester, showing quite a lot when shoved her over the arm of the chair, ripped her panties down and mounted her, rutting her like a wild animal. He rammed into her, deep, hard and fast, pounding into her harder than he’d ever done before, spewing into her then pulling out while he was still ejaculating, spraying over her bare bottom.
When he finally finished he said, “Go get cleaned up. I’m not gonna fuck you no more. You look like a fucking cow, or maybe an elephant.”
So, she got a break from the sexual torment but the verbal attacks just escalated, most directed toward her misshapen body.
When her milk came in he took joy in squeezing her breasts, forcing milk out and soaking her dress.
During her third trimester he left her alone, really alone. Nothing shared about how they would be parents, nothing. The only pleasant part was she didn’t have to endure his physical abuse, or at least she thought.
It was a Friday night, they were always the worse. Howard would get his pay check, get drunk and come home. This night, after 10:00 p.m. he came in and he was reeling, stumbling drunk.
He looked at Charlotte and went, mooo, mooo, you fucking cow. Show me you’re a cow, get naked and get down on the floor on your hands and knees, I want to see your udders.
My God, she was due in less than a week, what was this?
“I said get down and show me your udders.”
“Move bitch or I’ll help you.”
Charlotte couldn’t believe this was happening to her. But at least all he was going to do was laugh at her swollen belly and hanging tits. She took off her maternity dress and got down on the hands and knees.
“What the fuck are you, dumb as a cow,” he screamed. I said get naked. Take off the bra and panties, damn it.”
Charlotte unhooked her brassiere, letting it fall from her shoulders then rolled her panties off.
Howard walked around her, eying her and chuckling, “Yes, you are a God damned big cow.”
He knelt beside her and grabbed her huge breast, squeezing it, making her milk flow. He was tugging and laughing as he milked her. Then he moved to her other side, as he drained her other breast of her milk he started mooing.
“Moo cow, moo cow,” he chanted as he emptied her breast, pulling on her distended nipple, hurting her.
With all that he’d done to her over the months, this was the most humiliation she had endured. Tears came to her eyes, pain, yes, but worse, much worse, he was treating her like an animal.
Howard got up and walked around and around her, mooing at her, calling her a fat ugly cow. He stopped behind her, opened her nether lips and stuck a finger in her vagina.
“I ain’t fucked a cow before,” she heard him say then she heard him unzip.
He plunged into her; no fanfare, no preparation, forcing her forward, face down on the floor, as he pounded her.
“Cow, your cunt’s as big as, well, as big as a cow’s. I want something tight.” He pulled out and thrust into her anus, grabbing her by the hips, powering his full length into her, stretching her ring and filling her guts. Charlotte moaned in pain when he invaded her then grunted with each of his viscous thrusts.
Howard started slapping her cheeks, screaming, “Yell for me damn it, I want to hear you scream,” and Charlotte did, loud to satisfy him, incoherent, just sound, no words being formed.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah; you gave me the milk, now I’m gonna give you the cream,” he screamed as he stabbed into her, his semen flooding her bowels. He stroked into her until he softened.
Howard stood up. He said, “Yep, you’ve got a cunt like a cow, but that ass, well that ass is still as tight as a nice young heifer. Now get up and get yourself cleaned up.”
Charlotte crawled to the sofa and used it to pull herself upright, then limped painfully to the bathroom.
She sat on the commode, Howard’s cum oozing from her into the bowl. She was crying, crying from the pain, the humiliation and from frustration. She had to get away from him. She decided that, after the baby came that she was going to divorce him. She couldn’t endure anymore.
After that, he left her alone; the only humiliation she had to put up with was his constant mooing when he was home.
The baby came a week later. She named him Robin Christopher. She didn’t consult with Howard, she just named him. With Howard’s ego he would have insisted in naming the child Howard Junior and, Charlotte thought, she wasn’t going to have a son named Howard to remind her of that monster.
She’d been home from the hospital for a week, she was still sore from the episiotomy and her breasts hung heavy with milk. She was breast feeding and got no help from Howard, she still had to cook and clean. She was exhausted.
It was Friday morning and she was serving Howard his breakfast. She told him she needed to go into town the next week to pick up some things for the baby. She’d do that shopping but she intended to see a lawyer and start divorce proceedings. She planned to move out and stay with her widowed aunt ‘til she got on her feet.
“Sure, next week, that’s fine,” he replied.
Then he scared the hell out of her when he mouthed the words she most feared.
“Hey Baby, it’s Friday, pay day; and we’re going to party tonight.”
Howard left for work. Charlotte just sat at the kitchen table, her coffee untouched and growing cold as her thoughts screamed, no, no, no, not that. Her body couldn’t take it.
She gagged then ran to the bathroom and vomited.
Then she went to the bedroom and lay down. She stayed there all day, and except for tending to the baby, she didn’t get up. She didn’t sleep, she didn’t even nap. She was terrified of what the night would bring. The only solace she could take, if it could be termed solace was that maybe he’d just take her bottom; her stretched and stitched vagina wouldn’t stand up to his abuse.
It was after eleven when she heard the crunch of tires in the drive. She cowered in dread there on the mattress and waited.
Howard didn’t come through the door, instead there was knocking and she heard some call out, Mrs. Napier, Mrs. Napier, are you home, are you home?”
Charlotte slowly shuffled to the door and opened it. Standing on her porch was a State Trooper. He asked, “May I come it.”
Opening the door further she let him in. He walked to the living room and said, “Why don’t we sit down, I need to talk to you?”
Charlotte sat. The Trooper said, “I’m afraid your husband has been involved in an accident. You know that big oak tree on the curve on Route 6?” When Charlotte nodded mutely, he continued, “Howard was speeding, we estimate he was doing at least 75 and we think he was drunk; the car reeked of alcohol, he lost control and slammed into that tree. Mrs. Napier, his airbag did deploy but it didn’t help. His neck was broken in the crash. Mrs. Napier, I’m sorry to tell you, but Howard lost his life.”
The big Trooper was prepared for her grief, sobbing, unbelieving; but instead, Charlotte just sat, saying nothing, mute.
He asked, “Is there something I can do for you, someone I can call?”
She shook her head no then finally said, “No, I’ll be fine, besides, we don’t have a phone.”
“I’ve got a cell phone if you want to make a call.”
“No, really, I’ll be fine,” she said as she rose and walked the Trooper to the door.
The Trooper thought she was mute from the shock but he wasn’t even close. What Charlotte was thinking was that maybe there was a God in Heaven.
Charlotte wasn’t a drinker but Howard kept a fifth of Jack Daniels on hand. She poured herself a double then walked into the bedroom, the site of her degradation, sat on the edge of the bed and toasted Howard’s descent into Hell. She finished her drink and fell into an untroubled sleep.
The following day brought news, of course Howard hadn’t purchased any life insurance, that would have cost money, money easier spent on booze; but at least he’d opted for the best insurance plan his company offered; and it was a good one, health, vision, dental and a life insurance policy. He had $100,000 coverage with a rider paying double indemnity for accidental death, and she was the beneficiary. She had him out of her life and $200,000 in her bank account and she was going to be free.
Her in-laws arranged the funeral, she attended, playing the part of the bereaved widow, went home and packed. There was nothing she wanted to stay for.
She told her in-laws that she needed to get away for a while. They understood and even offered to baby sit Robin while she was away. She refused the offer, telling them she was breast feeding so he needed to be with her. She did arrange for her mother-in-law to drive her to the airport the following Monday.
Monday morning she stopped at the bank, she withdrew two thousand in cash and got a $10,000 cashiers check.
At the airport her mother-in-law wanted to come in with her but Charlotte insisted that she just drop her off. When asked where she was going Charlotte was vague, saying, “Maybe to Atlanta.” She didn’t want anyone from this town knowing where she was.
She bought a ticket for San Francisco. For the first time in over a year she had something to look forward to. She boarded the plane and never looked back.