Relief swept over Grace as she put the phone down and claimed the chair closest to her. An hour passed as she forced herself to relax and remain calm. Chad had believed her and with that came a small sense of normalcy. She pushed herself away from the table and began to go about her day. The kitchen counters were cleaned, the stove wiped down and the floor mopped. She felt like herself as she headed to the upstairs bathroom to clean and scrub away at miniscule specks of dirt and grime. When she moved to head down stairs, a shadowy figure walking across her yard brought her up short.
Deep in her gut she knew who it was. Grace moved to the living room and pulled the curtain back, allowing her just enough room to peek outside without being noticed. Chad walked across the yard, and made his way along the walk that would take him to the front porch. Her skin grew pale and her palms became cold and clammy. The knock he delivered to the door made her jump. She chewed on her lower lip, refusing to move or answer his assault.
Again he b@nged on the door and again she refused to move. It wasn’t until he called out that “little Brian looked like he was having a great time during first recess” that Grace finally moved. She hurried to the door and pulled it open.
“You’re stalking my son!” she shouted.
Chad pushed his way in, closed the door and pressed the screen of his phone into her face.
There was a photo of her youngest boy happily playing with his friend’s in the school playground. “Stay away from my kids!” she screamed, lifting her hand to slap at her blackmailer.
Chad caught her wrist and spun her around, forcing her against the door. He pocketed his phone and pushed her skirt up, exposing her pink p@anties and trembling legs. “You lied to me,” he hissed as he undid his pants.
Grace said nothing. She’d been caught and she knew to voice her displeasure at her treatment would only mean he would stop and threaten her with the envelopes. She felt his hand hook her p@anties and pull the fabric to the side. His J0yst!ck slammed into her K!ttyC@t and he pumped vigorously until his Pour was spraying the insides of her s*x. When he pulled out, he buttoned up, pushed her away and left the house.
Once again discarded as the Sl*t she was Grace slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands. She remained there for hours and had it not been for the chiming of the Grandfather clock in the hall she would have still been there when her kids came home.
That afternoon as the kids did their chores, played their games and studied for the next days lessons. Grace was a shell of a human. She made supper and waited for her husband to come home. When he did, she took the box she’d gotten in the mail and followed him into the bedroom.
He stared at her, questioning the look of fear and panic that was easy to read on her tear stained face. “What’s going on?” he asked as she opened the box and handed him the papers, the disk, and the photographs.
“I’m a Sl*t. A Lovepeddler. A cunt,” Grace admitted.
Her husband took the papers, sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at them before glancing up at her. “I told Chad you’d break before the week was up.”
CLICK HERE FOR EPISODE 8
