Vulgar Display of Power

"Ms. Ford, again, I'm sorry about Robin," he said. "But the truth is? I own your ass. And your mouth, and your pussy. I own you."

Allison stared at the monster across the desk.

"When is the funeral?" Ronald asked.

"Day after tomorrow," Allison whispered.

"You have off until then, Ms. Ford," Ronald said. "Day after day after tomorrow? There's a banquet at the Heritage Country Club. Get with Ms. Biggs for the details."

"Yes sir," Allison whispered.

Wendy looked up when Allison left the office. The woman approached and pulled Allison in for a comforting hug. Numbly, Allison allowed the woman to do so.

The funeral was a somber affair. Allison hugged Eddie and Betty, her brother and sister but would not allow her parents to even speak to her.

There were very few flowers; very few of their friends or family could afford flowers. There was a large arrangement from Oakleaf Homestead. And Wendy Biggs came and offered her condolences to the Ford family.

"I'll pick you up at six; we need get you a dress for the banquet," Wendy whispered to Allison, then left the funeral home.

At six o'clock, Wendy knocked on the door of Allison's trailer.

"Little black dress, really? Don't even know why Daddy wants us get them," Wendy said as she backed out of the trailer park.

"Other night, when Robin died, came home and seen you," Allison said.

"Yeah, the Priestly boys," Wendy agreed. "Five hundred thou at three point three."

"Seen you fucking your daddy," Allison continued.

"Yeah?" Wendy asked as she pulled into the parking lot of Brichelle's Boutique.

"Your own father?" Allison asked. "How could you?"

Wendy stared at Allison for a long moment, then burst out laughing.

"And what you think you been doing?" she laughed.

"Huh? Oh no, girlfriend," Allison said. "Oh no I have not been fucking my Daddy."

"Allison, grow up," Wendy laughed an ugly laugh.

She flipped down the sun visor over the passenger seat and flipped up the vanity mirror.

"Take a look, Allison Ford," she mocked. "Take a good look."

"What am I looking at?" Allison asked.

"We're twins, Allison. We look just like each other," Wendy said, jabbing the mirror. "Blonde hair, brown eyes, small ears; we're sisters, you fucking idiot."

Allison looked at her own reflection for a long moment. Her mother and father both had brown hair. They both had brown eyes also, but Lester's eyes were mean little slits in his piggish face. Nessie's eyes were dull, mud colored. Allison's eyes, when they were not red and raw, were large and warm.

"Your parents needed a house loan, no one would give them one," Wendy continued her assault. "'Lay on your back, spread them legs, okay, I'll guarantee your loan.'"

"No," Allison said numbly.

"Why you think you and me used be friends?" Wendy asked. "I've known all my life you're my little sister."

"And then you made me..." Allison mumbled.

"Made you my bitch? After you stole Web, what the fuck you expect? Roses?" Wendy snarled at Allison.

"I didn't steal Web," Allison whispered. "He hated you. Said you were nothing but a plastic bitch. said you were all tits and no brains"

"Imagine he hates me even more now," Wendy growled hatefully, beautiful face twisted in rage. "Just pulled his momma's notes."

"Miss Lydia?" Allison cried out. "But she's such a sweet woman!"

"Aw, is she?" Wendy said and opened her car door.

Allison hung her head and followed her big sister into the trendy store. Wendy was already holding up a ridiculously short dress in a vibrant red color.

"Thought it had to be a black one," Allison mumbled.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, you're right," Wendy said.

"We do have that in black," the salesgirl offered.

"Hmm, no, won't work for you, Sis," Wendy smirked at Allison. "Got to have tits for a dress like this."

Eight hundred and five dollars later, both girls had dresses, shoes, stockings and garter belts.

"Banquet starts at seven," Wendy said as she pulled up to Allison's trailer.

"Okay," Allison said.

Wendy followed Allison into the trailer.

"So, about six thirty? Give yourself an enema, get yourself really cleaned out," Wendy said, hanging Allison's dress in the closet.

"Ew," Allison said, grimacing in distaste.

"I usually give myself one at about six, six fifteen, then another one at six thirty, make sure I got it all," Wendy said as she flopped down on Allison's bed, hiking her skirt up.

"What are you doing?" Allison asked.

"Getting ready for you to eat me, slut," Wendy said, pointing to her wet pussy.

"But we're, you just told me we're sisters!" Allison spluttered.

"And? Get up here," Wendy ordered.

Allison took a deep breath, then climbed onto the bed.

"Anyway, right before you leave? Take a tube of gel and squeeze a bunch up your ass," Wendy said, grabbing Allison by a hank of hair. "Give me a kiss first, huh, dear sister?"

The two women sucked on each other's tongues.

"Really get a bunch up in there," Wendy advised. "Most of those idiots don't understand a girl's ass isn't like her pussy. They think they can just shove it up there."

"Most, how many guys there going be there?" Allison asked.

"Quarterly banquet? About forty, fifty," Wendy shrugged and pushed Allison's head toward her crotch.

Allison licked and sucked Wendy to one orgasm. She then backed away from Wendy's clitoris, until Wendy quit gasping in large gasps of air. Then she licked and sucked Wendy to a second orgasm.

Wendy pulled Allison away from her pussy by a handful of hair. The two kissed deeply, then Wendy wiggled off the bed.

"Pick you up at seven," Wendy said. "Might want to take a nap during day; you'll need it."

Allison tried to eat a microwave meal but could not force it down. The following morning, again, she only managed to eat a small bowl of cereal, then promptly threw up into her kitchen sink. At lunchtime, Allison managed a bowl of beef broth.

At six o'clock, she again drank some more beef broth. Then she gave herself an enema. At six thirty, she gave herself a second enema. Then she dressed in her new dress, a beautiful black dress that ended a few inches above her knees. It was too low cut in the back for her to wear a bra, so, after pulling on her garter belt and rolling her stockings on, she simply pulled the dress on. She brushed out her long hair, put on some lip gloss, then grabbed her tube of lubricant.

As nervous, as jittery as she felt, Allison could not help but smile at how ridiculous a pose it was. Kneeling on her bed, dress hiked up to her waist, one hand holding a large tube of lubricant and the other hand pulling on her left buttock.

"Ooh, cold," Allison shivered as the cold gel oozed into her anal cavity.

She heard a car horn honk and she scrambled off the bed.

Chapter 9

Allison's new dress was hanging off her left shoulder where one overzealous lover had ripped it. There was semen in her hair, semen liberally staining the new dress, semen liberally dotting her torn stockings. Semen oozed out of Allison's splayed, raw pussy and stretched raw anus. Her stomach actually gurgled and Allison felt queasy.

Fortunately, Wendy had the foresight to bring two towels with her. Wendy had been through a few of these 'banquets' and knew her car's leather seats would need protecting.

"Here, I always need one of these after that shit," Wendy said, handing Allison a pill.

"What is it?" Allison mumbled, squinting at the pill.

"Valium; help you sleep," Wendy said.

She then let out a rebel yell. Allison jumped at the sound.

"God damn! I am always so fucking jazzed after that shit!" Wendy whooped. "God damn! Give me more, give! Me! More!"

She laughed happily and kissed a stunned Allison on her lips.

"Fuck! Why I have to take a fucking Valium afterward, know what I'm saying?" she said.

Allison did not respond. The heavy feeling in her stomach worsened as they drove toward her trailer. The dashboard clock showed her it was 2:19 in the morning. Allison was glad that she did not work Saturdays. If she had been on the schedule, she would have had to call in sick.

She took the pill and washed it down with the rum and coke she'd grabbed before leaving the Heritage Country Club.

"Bye, Sis," Wendy said cheerfully as Allison got out of her car.

"Uh huh," Allison mumbled.

The alcohol and the Valium was beginning to work its magic and she stumbled up the steps to her trailer. She unlocked the door and staggered in.

Then a blinding pain struck her and she crumpled to the floor.

"About fucking time you got home, bitch," Web snarled.

He then bound Allison's hands behind her back with the duct tape. Her ankles were bound as well. Web slapped a piece of tape over Allison's mouth, then carried her out of the trailer to a 1976 Ford cargo van.

He dropped the unconscious girl onto the grimy floor, slammed the door shut, then ran around to the driver's door.

"Hated hitting you like that," he said as he started up the engine. "I mean, shit, Baby, you know I love you, right?"

He pulled out of the trailer park then headed east. He accelerated rapidly; at two o'clock in the morning, there wasn't much traffic around.

"Why I'm doing this, Baby," Web continued to talk to the unconscious girl. "I mean, you heard my momma lost our home, right? So now's the perfect time you and me get out of here. Just get out of here, go. Out of Texas; got a friend lives in Pinoak. That's in Louisiana. Anyway Trey, you remember Trey? He's got him a job working at the Courtyard Mall in Pinoak, said he can get me on, like that."

Web saw a BMW in front of them. Coming up behind the car, he recognized the BMW as Wendy Biggs's automobile. He scowled hatefully.

Wendy looked up as headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. She saw the old van approaching rapidly. Then she saw Web Skizznik's dark angry face. She screamed just before the van slammed into the rear of her car.

"Hope you die, you fucking cunt!" Web screamed as Wendy's car spun around, then slammed into a wooden telephone pole.

He did slow the van to four miles over the posted speed limit as he turned onto Highway 27A. Seeing no headlights or taillights in either direction, he pushed the large vehicle again. He continued to talk to Allison, continued to paint a pretty picture of their future together.

Behind them, a trucker happened upon the twisted automobile and radioed for assistance. Sweet Oak's Trauma Center sent out an ambulance and Oakleaf County sent out a Sheriff's unit. They had to use the Jaws of Life to cut the car open.

There was some internal bleeding; she also had a severe concussion, but Wendy Biggs would live. Six hours after being brought in, she was alert enough to give a report to the two uniformed policemen in her private room.

"Web," she slurred, groggy from the medication. "Web Skizznik, seen him. Gray van, one of them old ones."

When asked about the amount of semen on the towel underneath her, and the puddle of semen on the towel in the passenger seat of her car, Ronald Biggs declared the interview over. Wendy smirked at the two police men and agreed with her father; the interview was over.

A search showed that Wade Skizznik, Webster Skizznick's older brother had recently purchased a 1976 Ford cargo van, metallic gray, a statewide APB was put out. Then, one of the deputies, calculating how much time had elapsed, also posted the APB to Louisiana and Oklahoma.

While the APB was going out, Web Skizznick pulled up to a gas station in DeGarde, Louisiana. They'd been driving on nothing but fumes for the last few miles and the van shuddered and sputtered as they pulled up to the pump.

While Web was putting ten dollars' worth of gas into the large van, Sergeant Georgie Sanders and her partner, Brian Jochet, a rookie recruit were driving a routine patrol.

Georgie made Brian nervous. He tried not to show it, but her lesbianism made him squeamish. The fact that her partner had been an African-American really sickened Brian. In his opinion, it was bad enough to be gay, but to be gay with an interior race was unforgiveable.

Audrey Gremillion, his own girlfriend had suddenly decided she wanted to be a mud hen. Brian and she had moved in together, he was just about to propose marriage to the gorgeous red head, then she suddenly decided she wanted black dick.

"Hey, that APB out of, oh, damn, what was it, Oak Tree, Texas?" Georgie suddenly asked.

"Oakleaf, I think, yeah, why?" Brian asked.

"Gray van, older model?" Georgie asked, looking at the gas station.

"Think so," Brian agreed.

Web was putting the nozzle back into the pump when the police cruiser pulled up behind his vehicle, boxing him in.

"Hey there, how's it going?" Georgie asked, stepping around the front of the cruiser.

Web reacted out of fear. He pulled his brother's .38 out of his waistband and squeezed off two shots. The first struck Georgie in the stomach, the second slammed into her throat.

Brian drew his own service revolver and put all six slugs into Web Skizznik. He then frantically radioed in that an officer was down. But Sergeant Georgette Sanders was dead.

Inside of the van, Allison came to, unaware of the tragedy that had just occurred outside. There was a throbbing pain in her head, her chest and stomach hurt from laying on the hard metal floor of the van, being bumped and jostled by miles and miles of Texas and Louisiana asphalt.

Allison vomited from the unrelenting pain in her head. Rich banquet food and semen rushed up. The tape over her mouth did not allow the food and semen to escape and her nostrils clogged with the slimy substance.

Slowly, Allison began to suffocate. At first she struggled. Then she asked herself why she was struggling to live.

Her pussy hurt, her throat hurt, her anus ached. Her tongue was raw, her lips were bruised. If she lived, the nightmare would just continue.

She felt light now, floating. There was no more pain. There was an eerie calm in surrendering.

Allison saw a bright light and marveled. The light was brighter than a thousand suns, yet it did not hurt her eyes. She laughed out for joy and approached that light.

The light hurt Allison's eyes. The grinding, throbbing pain in her head was back. Grimacing, Allison swatted at the offensive light.

"Welcome back, Sweetie," Ulysses Lee, a nurse in St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center cheerfully said to the young woman.

"You're too God damned ugly be an angel," Allison grumbled. "Where am I?"

Dr. Debbie Thompson laughed merrily and Ulysses did smile at the patient's insult. He knew, with his tightly coiled orange hair, multitude of freckles, and pudgy body, he was in fact, too ugly to be an angel.

A police officer asked Allison how she had come to be in the back of Webster Skizznick's van. Allison told him the truth; she had no idea.

Then she told the shocked police officer about her last few months, the hell that she had endured.

In Great Oak, Texas, Ronald Biggs opened the door of his home.

"Yes?" he growled at the two Texas State Troopers that stood in front of him "Got news abbot that little bastard hit my daughter?"

"Ronald Biggs, you're under arrest," one officer intoned.

In her hospital room, Wendy Biggs stared in disbelief as the Texas State Trooper read out her rights. She then feigned losing consciousness.

"That's fine, Sweetheart," the trooper chuckled as he handcuffed her left hand to her hospital bed. "I ain't going nowhere."

Epilogue.

Allison Faye Ford elected not to return to Texas. There was nothing to return to. As far as she was concerned, other than Eddie and Betty, she had no family. She certainly did not want to return to Oakleaf Homestead.

Parker Johnson of Johnson, Johnson & Lambert Law Office needed a receptionist. Dawn Li, his last one had endured all she would of his abusive behavior and quit. The receptionist prior to Dawn Li had been terminated due to her drug use.

Judge Jesse Johnson, Parker's father, had heard about the unfortunate Allison through the grapevine and Parker went to the Women's shelter that Allison was staying in.

"Yes sir; I'll do my best," Allison agreed as the handsome lawyer offered her the job of receptionist.

Allison was an excellent fit. Parker's fits of anger and thunderous rages did not faze Allison in the least; she was used to far worse. She handled him with a sweet smile and a polite 'yes sir' as he ranted and raged.

She also handled even the most irate clients with a smile and soft response. Tearful clients found that she was a comforting presence. She would hold their hand and listen as they sobbed out their woes.

Ronnie Edwards, ex-husband of Georgie Sanders, came into the office of Johnson, Johnson & Lambert. Georgie had borne him two children, nine year old Ronald Junior, RJ, and six year old Sandra. But Georgie and her lesbian lover, Rayanne Williams had also had a child, Charisse Orleans Williams. Georgie had gained full custody of the five year old African-American child when a wasp crawled into a can of Dr. Pepper that Rayanne was drinking. Rayanne tilted the can and the wasp stung her in the esophagus. Rayanne suffocated before anyone even realized what was happening.

Now Ronnie was trying to legally adopt the orphaned girl. He was white, RJ and Sandra were white. But as far as RJ and Sandra were concerned, Charisse was their sister. As far as Ronnie was concerned, Charisse was Georgie's daughter, therefore, the sister to his two children.

"And family belongs with family," Ronnie told Parker Johnson.

"Hi," Ronnie smiled at the attractive blonde at the front desk. "Ronnie Edwards, here to see Parker Johnson?"

"And who's this little cutie pie?" Allison asked, smiling at the African-American girl Ronnie had in his left arm.

"This is Charisse; I'm hoping she'll be my little girl," Ronnie smiled. "Charisse, you say 'hi' to the pretty lady?"

"Hi," Charisse said.

"Hi Charisse, do you like coloring?" Allison asked, already reaching for the coloring book and box of crayons in her middle desk drawer.

"Uh huh," Charisse said.

"Yes ma'am," Ronnie gently corrected.

The meeting with Parker was merely a formality, a formality Ronnie had to pay eight hundred dollars for. He shook hands with the attorney, and stepped outside of the office.

For a long moment, Ronnie stood and watched as Allison and Charisse colored together.

"Yellow? Why's the froggie yellow?" Allison asked.

"Because she's pretty like you," Charisse explained, tugging Allison's pretty blonde hair.

"Your sister Sandra has pretty blonde hair too, doesn't she?" Ronnie asked.

"Yeah," Charisse agreed.

Ronnie thanked Allison, then picked the child up.

Debbie Dees, Parker's personal assistant stepped out and met the courier just as the man was coming into the office.

"Clerk of Court," Debbie said, then turned to Allison. "About ready?"

"Give me a minute shut everything down," Allison agreed.

Debbie was in the process of buying a foreclosed condominium and was renting a room to Allison. As part of the package, Debbie was Allison's ride to and from work. Allison was also Debbie's guinea pig, eating Debbie's culinary attempts.

"Spinach and artichoke lasagna tonight?" Debbie asked as Parker locked the office door.

That night, as Allison took a shower, she did something she'd not done in weeks. As the water cascaded over her nude body, she masturbated. She masturbated to thoughts of Ronnie Edwards holding her, gently caressing her, softly kissing her.

As she lay down to sleep, Allison smiled, remembering his gentle, loving nature with Charisse.

The next day, Debbie prepared two lunches of the leftover veggie lasagna for their lunch, then drove them to work. A bitter woman stomped into their lobby, snarled that she had an appointment with Eric Greene, and the work day began.