Memory: Book Two (Scars 2) (16 page)

Soon,
I was distracted by the fat hand stroking at my thigh. Here was another piece
of shit to deal with. That was okay. I was used to it.

I
shoved the hand aside. “Don’t get distracted. I’ll make sure you get what you
want when we stop, not before, and until then, no touching.”

To
my surprise, he did what I said, removing his hand.

“What’s
your name?” he asked, almost warily.

I
took a breath and forced my lips into the best sultry smile that I could
muster. “Hannah,” I told him.

Ewen
the truck driver was a sweaty pig of a man. He reminded me of a round barrel
with his enormous beer gut stretching out in front of him. When we slept in the
bed in the back of his cab, he took up all the room, squashing me against the
side. But I didn’t feel trapped. I felt free, and mean.

The
first few nights I lay under him and he panted and snorted away while he thrust
into me. Passive and unmoving, I just lay there and stared at the ceiling as if
he were no more than an annoyance. But then I decided that things needed to
change. I needed to be in control.

I
would make him strip off all his clothes so he was naked because he looked more
vulnerable like that, a hairy flabby pathetic man. We would play a game where
he wasn’t allowed to move. His hands had to remain by his sides, nor was he
permitted to arch his groin up as I kneeled over his legs.

“Look
at this tiny thing.” I would reach forward and take hold of the ugly piece of
flesh that lurked under the obscene stomach. Between thumb and forefinger, I
would pull it, trying to lengthen it. “Who could this ever satisfy?” The little
dick would become harder at my mean words and cruel touch, then I would slap it
because it annoyed me that this gave him pleasure. He would wince and sometimes
cry out, depending on how hard I did it, and on how mean I felt that day.

Ewen
liked pain. He liked being humiliated and demeaned. In public, when we stopped
at truck stops for greasy meals, he would slap my ass like he owned me. But
when we were in private, I would make him lie on his stomach and smack at his
saggy white ass until it turned red and he began to howl and beg me to stop.
Sometimes, I would place a plastic glove over my hands and smear lubricant over
the tips of my fingers. As I touched my now cold fingers to his opening, he
would tense.

“It’s
only going to hurt more unless you relax,” I mocked, but I wouldn’t give him a
chance, shoving my fingers up him as he gasped and gurgled. I felt like I owned
him this way, like I had my own little doll to play with and torment. But
someone like Ewen wouldn’t break. He loved this and it wasn’t really
punishment. I tried to think up increasingly mean things to do to him as we
drove along long stretches of road.

Sometimes,
I would hover over his face and make him eat me out. It was never that good
though. Only when I closed my eyes and pretended that it was Aaron beneath me
and at my mercy, did I manage to let go and cum.

I
was with Ewen for a good month when I saw the sign. The name made instant memories
flash across my mind — Finn, Mara, Torrance, Mom and
Todd.
Most of those
memories were good though. That place was the first time that I had ever really
been normal and a pang of homesickness hit me and I felt my eyes water with
tears.

However,
that wasn’t where we were going. We turned off onto a different road that would
take us further and further away.

That
night I screwed Ewen normally. I rode him and kissed his sweaty neck, clutching
onto him like he was someone special, someone who cared for me and who I loved
right back. Yet he struggled to come like that, it wasn’t until I grabbed his
balls and called him a pathetic fat pig that he managed to cum, an unimpressive
load squirted out onto my fingers. I made him lick them clean and felt like crying.

One
morning, on a rare occasion that we had actually stayed in a motel, I felt the
blankets slowly being pulled from me, exposing my naked body to the chill. I
cracked open my eyes groggily to find Ewen hovering above me with a camera.

“What
are you doing?” I snapped, reaching for the blanket to cover myself. He lowered
the camera.

“You
look so pretty, I just wanted to send something to my bitch of an ex-wife to
show her the hot thing that I had in my bed,” he whined.

I
screwed up my face in disgust. “You’re pathetic, you know that? No wonder she
left your fat ass. You’re disgusting. Who could ever want something like you?”
He was nodding with gusto at my abuse and I saw his little penis start to
harden. Then I had an idea and grabbed the camera from him. “You and I, you
disgusting pig, are going to make a little movie.”

I
dressed first in protective jeans and a black turtle neck. I wanted as little
of my flesh exposed as possible. I was not the object in this film. I bound the
naked Ewen to the bed. He lay on his stomach with his hands and feet tied to
the head and foot of the bed so his white bottom was on display. I shoved a
pair of panties in his mouth as well and he gurgled and drooled around them.
Once my instruments were laid out beside me, I mounted the camera on a stand,
and pressed record.

Once
I sat back down beside the squirming Ewen, I began to speak to the camera.

“Hi,
Aaron,” I said brightly. “How are you? How’s your body? Can you walk yet? Can
you take a piss without assistance, or maybe you’re dead. Either way, this is
going to be therapeutic for me.” I gave Ewen a slap on his bare thigh and he
squirmed and grunted through the gag. He had been tied up for well over an hour
at this stage and his arms and legs must have been numb. “This is Ewen.” I
reached between his legs and began to fondle his balls. “I’m going to pretend
Ewen is you. I know, I know, it’s a stretch of the imagination, he’s such a
fine specimen.” I squeezed his balls harder and he groaned, right on the edge
of pleasure becoming pain. “Isn’t he pretty?” I cooed to the camera, “and so
receptive.” I released his balls and reached for the crop that I had made him
buy.

“You
know what, Aaron, your back is so scarred up that I would love to make your ass
match.” And with that I brought the crop viciously down on Ewen’s ass. He cried
out against the gag and I laughed and brought it down again and again until his
bottom was a striped and bloody mess. Ewen cried openly, and he may have begged
for mercy, but I didn’t listen, or care. I smiled brightly at the camera once
more. “You know what, Aaron? If it were you, I’d use a proper whip and take the
flesh from your body.” I raised the tip of the crop to my mouth and licked at
the blood on it. “Goodnight, Aaron.” I winked at the camera before turning it
off.

Ewen’s
sobs were silent now and his fat jiggled as I released him. I had expected him
to be a little angry, but his dick was hard and he begged to go down on me. I
rolled my eyes at him in disgust as I removed the memory card from the camera
and dropped it into an envelope that bore Aaron’s name and the address of his
home by the sea. I posted it just before we left, with Ewen moaning about how
sore his ass was when he sat behind the wheel of his truck.

In
the next film we made, Ewen was forced to bend over with his pants around his
ankles while I pushed a dildo in and out of his ass. “I’d love to do this to
you, Aaron,” I told the camera. “I would love to ram this so hard up your ass
that you bleed and beg for mercy. This is what your pig of an uncle did to me,
ripping me until I bled.” Ewen came like that, which made me frown in
disappointment and not let him cum again for a week. Again I posted the memory
card to Aaron. What was this achieving? It made me feel good. I liked hurting
people, and I liked Aaron knowing that I could hurt just as he could and that I
could be sadistic as well.

But
I was growing tired of Ewen. He served my purpose, paying my way and giving me
whatever I wanted. I made him pull over at a motel for the night. I had no
desire to sleep squashed up next to him in the truck again. Plus, there was a
sleazy bar across the road, and I wanted to get drunk. I didn’t let him come with
me. I told him to take off his clothes and be waiting naked in bed for me,
which he did eagerly.

The
bar was quiet because it was still early, and I sat at the bar and ordered a
beer. There was no question of asking me for identification; it wasn’t that
kind of place. I looked around me as the cold bottle was pushed over to me and
I slid the money back in return. A few old men with long grey hair played pool
in the corner, and a red haired woman sat at a table by herself.

At
first I thought that she was Azalea, but her hair wasn’t as pretty in the dark
of the bar and her skin was lined like she had smoked and drank much over the
course of her life. How old was she? Anywhere between thirty to forty five
probably, it was hard to tell. Grabbing my beer, I slid off my bar stool and
walked over to her.

“Mind
if I join you?” I asked, feeling like a sleazy man. She slowly raised her eyes
to me. They were dull with little life in them and surrounded by dark circles.
She was definitely no exquisite Azalea, but from behind maybe…

She
picked up her empty beer bottle and waved it at me. “Only if you’re buying.”
Her voice was low and gravelly.

I
gave her a tight smile. “Sure.” I turned and motioned to the bartender before
taking a seat beside her. She wore a low top that revealed creased skin and too
much of the tops of her breasts that weren’t fettered by a bra. They had lost
all tone and sat hanging like flapjacks underneath her top. I drew my eyes away
from them and resisted the urge to cross my arms protectively over my own
beautiful breasts.

“What’s
your name?” I asked her.

“Ann.”

Definitely
nothing like Azalea then. No exotic name or beauty, luck or success. I tried
not to feel sorry for her, for the wretchedness that came from her in waves. It
was when I had bought her a second drink that I approached the subject.

I
leaned in close. “How would you like to earn some money?” I asked her in a low
voice, feeling like a snake.

She
didn’t look surprised. She knew that I wasn’t there just to be friendly. “What
would I have to do?”

I
tried to make my face pleasant and warm, but I think that I had forgotten how.
“Just to help me make a little movie. You’d be naked but no one would see your
face—”

Ann
made a slight snort. “You think I care about that? I don’t. Just talk money.”

I
stopped my attempt at friendliness and became business like. There was little
negotiation; she was, after all, desperate.

One
more drink and she was walking with me to the motel, unsteady on her spindly,
worn heels. When I opened the door, Ewen was snoring in the bed. I took off my
shoe and threw it at his head. He awoke, wide-eyed and panicking.

“Get
up and get dressed,” I told him. “We’ve got a film to make.”

Ann
watched him coolly as he raised his naked bulk from the bed to start setting up
the camera. Nothing seemed to disgust her. She let her bag drop to the floor
before she let the straps of her dress slide from her shoulders to reveal
fallen breasts, visible ribs and bony hips. She wore no underwear, as if she
knew what a waste of time it would be to wear panties when they would only come
off anyway. It saved them being ripped by careless drunks, or a sadistic,
uncaring girl.

She
kicked the dress aside and turned to me. “Where do you want me?” She’d left her
heels on, and the lift they gave her made her legs look toned. Her ass,
surprisingly, was firm.

I
sat on the bed and patted my lap. “Right here. I want your back to the camera.”

She
sauntered over to me, her heels making her hips sway. She looked nearly bored,
as if this were something that she did every day. If she were humiliated by
laying herself naked over the lap of someone so much younger than herself, she
didn’t let it show. She draped herself over me, face down and ready for the
taking.

“Start
the camera,” I ordered Ewen. His little penis was standing up straight already.
I plastered a bright smile on my face. “Hi, Aaron. How are you? I’ve got a
surprise for you this time. I found a lookalike for that Azalea bitch and
thought that I could role play what I might do to her if I ever find out that
you actually care for her.” I grabbed a handful of the hateful red hair and
yanked Ann’s head up, but not so much that her face was visible. My grip should
have felt like fire on her scalp, but she uttered no sound, and that bugged me.
I released her hair. “Do you want to see her cry, Aaron? I’ll do my best.” I
raked my nails across one cheek of her bare buttock. The five streaks began to
bleed and she hadn’t even flinched. “She’s tough this one. I’ll have to—”

I
stopped abruptly. I had again drawn my nails across her other butt cheek and
again blood appeared as five punishing lines. But there was no sign from her.
No hiss, no cry, not even a flinch. She just lay there like some pathetic doll
with no choices of her own. She was a plaything who didn’t even allow herself
the luxury of a cry to outsource her feelings of pain. She was a toy, a fucking
wind-up toy.

Just
like me.

I
let out a laugh but it was more like a sob as I looked at the camera again.
“You know what. I’m hurting the wrong person. Mom, I’m going to send you a copy
of this as well. Although I should really find a blonde to pretend she’s you.
I’ll manipulate her into thinking she loves me, and then I’ll have every single
boyfriend fuck her in the most awful of ways. And every time the little whore
complains, I’ll kiss her and tell her that I love her and that I’m doing this
for us.” Tears were shining in my eyes and my voice was beginning to crack.
“But even then, you probably wouldn’t
get
it. You would never understand
exactly what it did to me, what a horrible, horrible person I’ve become. I hope
Todd hangs himself above your bed one day, Mother. I hope you
get it
then.” I wiped at the tear that began to trickle down my cheek. “Goodbye,
Aaron. You won’t hear from me again. I think my anger at you is
slightly…misplaced, but only slightly.”