He decided the first thing was to immobilize her. He also decided he had to wipe away
any evidence that she had been in the house.
He strode to the rocking chair and grabbed a couple of pieces of rope that Brad had
used on him. He also picked up his knife. He returned to the girl who was beginning to
climb to her knees. He roughly thrust her down on her stomach. She was still too groggy to
resist. She protested when he pulled off her T-shirt, but he cuffed her ear and that
silenced her. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He couldn’t resist a quick grope. A real handful,
round, firm and smooth. He planned to get back to them. Next he yanked down the silly
shorts, and pulled off the sneakers. He made a bundle of these. Then to her strengthening
protests he pulled off her lacy panties. He set those aside. She began to struggle in
earnest, long blond hair tangling, breasts bobbing, arms flailing, legs kicking, and her
mouth screeching some definitely un-ladylike noises.
He did a much more careful job of binding her wrists behind her than Brad had done.
Five neat rounds of rope on each wrist, joined securely together with a knot positioned
well beyond the reach of her fingers.
He dug into the sideboard’s bottom drawer and came up with an old collar that Max
had replaced one Christmas. It made a nice tight fit around Sally’s neck. A short length
of rope secured her to the bottom of the bed. Finally he tied her ankles together. Puffing
a bit, he gazed down at the luscious bundle. He couldn’t resist squeezing one bare boob.
So round, so firm…he grinned at recalling the old ad. For several minutes he played with
her body, stroking, squeezing, pinching. As a final embellishment he tied his handkerchief
around her head and stuffed the corners into her mouth. He now had a sensuously squirmy,
but muffled, package. He was feeling hot. He briefly stroked the soft fur around her
pussy. She made noises of high indignation. I’ll be back, he promised the pussy.
He wrapped up Brad in the bed cover, which was spattered with blood and gross gray
stuff. This he secured with a few windings of rope. Then he hefted Brad over his shoulder
and carried him down to the boat house. He dumped Brad into the cockpit of his inboard,
rounded up some chain and three cinder blocks. Then he roared off to the deepest part of
the lake about a mile away.
He secured the chain around Brad’s ankles, threaded the end through the three blocks
and secured it all with a dozen twists of picture wire. One by one he dumped the blocks
overboard, then Brad. The body slipped downwards to rest forever three hundred feet below.
Semplar returned to the boathouse. He looked around for the rowboat the kids had used. All
he found was a length of rope attached to the log pier and dangling in the water. It was
obviously the remnants of another sloppy tie up job by Brad. The boat had drifted away.
Semplar knew the currents in the lake would eventually take it to the river rapids that
flowed past Mooseville.
He went to a nearby bush and cut a four-foot switch. He gathered up a cable he had
used to keep Max near the house when he was a rambunctious puppy.
He found Sally where he left her, but now her mood was definitely cranky. He pulled
the handkerchief out of her mouth. “Untie me, you jerk,” she demanded. He ignored her
ranting as he replaced the rope with the much more secure cable. He gathered up the little
bundle of her clothing, took it outside and set it afire in the yard debris bin.
He returned and regarded his naked captive. She had climbed to her feet and now
stood at the foot of the brass bed, her body turned to conceal from him whatever she
could. “Stop staring at me, you pervert,” she snarled. “I don’t think you can label a man
a pervert because he looks at a sexy young naked girl,” Semplar said reasonably.
“Give me some clothes,” she demanded.
He continued to stare at her, and wrestled with his conscience. He had never raped a
girl. But it had been a long, long time since he had been with a woman, and this bitch
owed him Big Time. He decided to take a little down payment on her debt. He took off his
sweater, unbuttoned his shirt. She watched him with widening eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a worried expression.
He ignored her while he untied and pulled off his boots. As he dropped his pants he
gave her a steely glare. “What do guys usually do to naked girls in their bedrooms?” he
asked.
Her lips curled back to reveal teeth. “You just try,” she snarled.
He grimaced at her. “You’ll be glad to accommodate me when I’ve finished with you,”
he told her in a flat statement.
Now she looked worried. She struggled to free her wrists bound securely behind her.
He cut the ropes on her ankles.
He retrieved the switch he had prepared. She tried to back away from him, but he
merely reeled her in with the cable attached to her collar. He pushed her down to her
knees, then stepped on the cable and pulled it tight. This positioned her face tightly
against his foot and her ass stuck up in the air. He put a hard swat across both her
globes. She shrieked.
He waited patiently for her sobs to diminish. “Now here’s how we’re going to play
this,” he told her. “I’m going to beat on your ass, and other tasty parts of you, until
you decide you’ve had enough and agree to entertain me on the bed. Implied in your
agreement, you will perform your part of the bargain willingly and enthusiastically.
Understood?” he demanded harshly.
She made a whimpering sound. “I’m sorry about what I did to you,” she said in a
little girl’s voice. “I was high on a drug. I wasn’t thinking. I’m really, really sorry.”
“You will be,” he growled. He swung the switch and almost hit the same spot again.
She squealed and sobbed. She tried to slither away from him, revealing a shapely upper
thigh. He thwacked it hard and she screeched. “You bastard!” she cursed at him.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
“Alright!” she screamed. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” She looked up at him with tear
filled eyes, her mouth contorted. He was surprised how livid were the stripes on her body.
It gave him a peculiar revengeful satisfaction to look down at her cringing figure. She
was a whipped cur. He was even starting to feel sorry for her until he reminded himself
how callously she had paraded around the room with his toe nail.
“Get on the bed,” he snapped. “Now!” He gave her another slash which made her yelp
and sped her on her way. She sprawled on the bed on her back. “Spread those legs,” he
commanded. She obeyed instantly. What a beautiful scene she made with her breasts tilted
up, heaving with her heavy breathing, luscious lips contorted by distress, hair spilling
over the pillow, long lovely legs spread revealing her pink pussy. She squirmed to make
her bound arms more comfortable. He lay down on top of her. He had no intention of warming
her up with foreplay. This was strictly for his pleasure, not hers. His rod was rock hard
and aching for release. He thrust hard against her and was surprised to find she was
heavily lubricated. Apparently deep down Sally liked rough sex.
She lay with her head turned away from him, eyes squinted shut.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Lips moist and puckered for a kiss.”
She did everything he told her. For several minutes he held himself just inside her
as he ravaged her lips and face. Then he thrust in. God it felt good, tight, slick, and
lively as she writhed and humped. He enjoyed her little moans of humiliation. Who said
revenge wasn’t sweet? He paced himself. With one hand he held her hair so she couldn’t
turn her face away. The other fondled a luscious breast. If she shut her eyes, as though
to blank out the sight of him, he squeezed and twisted her nipple. He had complete control
of her. She began to make little gasps as though, even though she was still mentally
resisting, her body was feeling twitches of pleasure. It was still far off, but he could
sense his own coming eruption. He continued the rape unhurriedly, his rod sliding in and
out of her slick tunnel. She was clenching him so perfectly, so smoothly. He grinned to
himself. This was revenge. He hoped she was feeling humiliated, degraded. He promised
himself there would be more of this.
She started to make little huffing sounds. He reveled in the joy and the lust, in
his mastery of her helplessness. She no longer tried to avoid his gaze. She stared up at
him with brimming eyes, biting her lip as though trying to quell her intensifying
enjoyment. He smiled down at her victoriously. He knew she was coming even though he could
see her conflicting emotions and struggles. She didn’t want to crown her rape with an
orgasm. He shifted upwards a bit to put more pressure on her clit. That tipped her over
the edge. Her eyes went glassy; her mouth made ohs and her body arched and stiffened. He
could see the pink flush of her ecstasy spreading over her body like an incoming tide.
After an interlude, she made a sobbing moan and went limp. This inspired his own response.
He came in a massive spasm of rapture and release. He shut his eyes and rode the orgasm
for a dozen heartbeats. God it was good! Then sated, his body glowing with contentment, he
grinned down at her. She glared back at him, her eyes squinted hard, her mouth twisted..
For a long while he just lay on top of her, relishing his right to be there,
reveling in the softness and warmth of her breasts against his chest, the smooth, silky
texture of her body, and the fragrant scent of her hair. His rod still nestled cozily
inside her. He didn’t have to be polite, nor thoughtful. He was taking a small part of the
payback she owed him. This was bliss.
Eventually he rolled off the bed. “Up!” he commanded as he pulled on his clothes.
She still lay on the bed, looking rebellious. He briskly swatted her upper thighs with the
switch. She yelped and shot him a look of pure hate. But she got off the bed. He secured
the collar around her neck with picture wire. Without pliers there was no way she could
undo the stiff wire. Satisfied she was now secured, he untied her wrists.
He marched her into the kitchen by means of the cable attached to her collar. There
he made her assemble cleaning supplies and take everything to the bedroom where Brad had
been shot.
“There’s muck and stuff in this room. I want you to clean it up. If it’s not
spotless—I mean spotless—when I come back, you will be painfully punished. Is that
clear?”
She just stared back at him with a defiant glare, obviously with no intention of
cleaning the repugnant muck. He strode into the other bedroom and came back with his
switch. It was the same sadistic scene as before. The moment she saw the switch she tried
to cringe away from him. He reeled her in by her cable, forced her to her hands and knees,
secured her head against his foot, and whacked her six times on her bare rump. Going down
the switch hissed. When it landed on her pink flesh it made a sharp smacking noise. Her
screams almost deafened him, and her bawling noises were almost as loud. He waited for her
to settle down.
“Do you want more?” he demanded.
“No,” she said in a little voice. “I’ll do it.”
“I didn’t hear you,” he told her, almost shouting.
“I’ll do it,” she said with a little more volume.
“Louder!” He brought the switch down on her rump again, on the first spot he hit
earlier.
“I’ll do it!” she screamed.
“Good girl. Good little drudge,” he complimented her as he fastened the cable to the
bed frame. She was still sobbing when he left.
The only way to get to Mooseville from his lodge was by boat, unless you were
willing to trek 15 miles around the north end of Tall Moose Lake, or six miles south along
the Tall Moose River rapids to the first spot that was fordable. Once across the river, if
you had chosen the northern route, you would find the Mooseville dirt road heading back to
town or taking you south in the direction of distant Vancouver. It took only about ten
minutes for Semplar’s speedy inboard to get him to the town’s fishing wharf.
While he was buying some rope and other supplies at the town’s general store, as
always, he updated himself on the town’s gossip from Ellen O’Malley, the store owner. She
was a jolly, rotund woman who had lived in Mooseville for sixty years. She knew every one
of the town’s 300 inhabitants. He learned that Brad and Sally had roared into town in a
stolen pickup. When questioned by Hans Bickel, the town’s policeman, a gentle older man
that everybody liked, there was a scuffle and Bickel was shot and killed with his own gun.
Semplar was stunned to hear this news. Brad and Sally, the story went, tried to get away
in the mayor’s rowboat. Instead of making for the calm waters of the lake, they apparently
decided to shoot the rapids. The boat had been swept down the foaming river and ended up
smashed about five miles downstream. There was no sign of the couple. They were now being
hunted by the RCMP.
All this gave Semplar a great deal to think about as he motored home. Sally was at
least an accessory to the murder of the policeman. They would hunt her remorselessly. When
inevitably caught, she would babble all she knew about how Semplar had killed her poor
Brad, and his life would unravel. The surest solution to this problem was to dump Sally in
the lake with Brad. But he really balked at that idea. At best it had to be only a distant
Plan B. He had to work out a more palatable answer.
As he climbed up the steps to the lodge, he had assembled three possible solutions.
Keep Sally bound and gagged in the root cellar. Not a very good idea but he kept it on his
mental list for further refinement. Two, explain to Sally the peril she was in and enlist
her cooperation. That idea raised all his skeptical instincts. Aside from his strong
doubts that he could trust her, he could see the major flaw in the idea. It would put him
in the position of being at the mercy of an unstable girl’s whims. On the face of it, his
third solution looked the best. Help Sally to escape the area. Take her to Florida, or the
Cayman Islands, or somewhere far away like Timbuktu. He would have to give her some money
to get established. But he just knew that eventually she would come back for more. None of
the solutions were good, but they were a working start.
Max met him in the yard and pranced around him for a game. He loved chasing a tennis
ball, or “go search” which involved hunting for a hidden dog biscuit. However, today Max
had to settle for a quick scrubbing of his ears and a chase after a flying stick. Semplar
went straight for the bedroom to see how the cleaning job was coming along. He stopped in
the doorway and gazed at the room in horror and disbelief. Sally was gone!
The clever little bitch had managed to cut the cable by rubbing it on the sharp
corner of the bed frame. He figured she was still wearing the collar and three or four
feet of cable. Swearing aloud he ran outside.
There was no sign of her. How long would it take her to saw through that cable? It
was old and maybe weakened in places, but even so he estimated it would have taken her at
least two, maybe three hours. He had been gone exactly three and a half hours. He must
have just missed her! He figured she would be smart enough to stick close to the water. So
which way had she gone?
Max, prancing around him, knew but couldn’t tell him. Oh yes maybe he could! Semplar
ran into the lodge and retrieved Sally’s panties which he had put aside to train Max. But
perhaps the dog would be smart enough to figure out the game for himself. Semplar held the
flimsy bit of material to Max’s nose. “Max, go search!” he commanded.
This was Max’s favorite game. He set off right away along the path that Sally had
followed. Once she had checked out the boat house and found nothing useful, her plan was
clearly to follow the river south. It was slow going. The countryside was thick with
bushes, tightly spaced trees and strewn with rocks and forest rubble.. Max soon overtook
her and began to bark joyously. Semplar hurried to catch up.
When Sally was greeted by Max, it was evident she realized she was caught. She gave
up. She was not a country girl. She slumped down on the ground in a puffing heap. She had
stolen some of Semplar’s clothing, shirt, pants and running shoes that were at least five
sizes too large for her. She gazed up at him fearfully. He grasped the cable still
attached to her collar and without a word dragged her back to the lodge.
He made her take off the clothes, then stood staring at her as he decided what to
do.
| 
