THE APPLE AND THE TREE IV
Ten years ago
It had been raining ceaselessly for six hours. The clap of lightning and the roar of the accompanying thunder filled the little attic torture chamber in the Quinn’s residence. The black windows allowed little light and the candle light was barely sufficient to see with. However, Michael Quinn was in his element.
Sola was tied to a custom chair that seemed to be turned inside out. Sola had her stomach on the back-rest and her thigh were spread on the armrest while the seat was totally missing. Michael had spanked and whipped her. He took her bum roughly, wearing her sphincter to the limits of its elasticity as he whipped her back and thighs with a studded cat’o’nine – if and when she screamed too loud.
He had been on her case for over ninety minutes and she was tired already. She was drifting between consciousness and death-like sleep when she heard her baby scream.
She began struggling.
Michael, like any man who has a reputation to protect, never let her bear scars where anyone but himself could see. As such, her wrists and ankles were held by Velcro bonds. Tired as she was, she found the strength to worry the bonds on her right hand till they gave way.
After several minutes of fighting with her restraints, Sola made her way down the stairs, pausing to pick a frying pan from the kitchen before dragging herself to her daughter’s room as quietly as she could.
Just outside Funmi’s door, she could already hear the muffled screams of her daughter. The squeaking springs under the bed masked her entry into the room. He had Funmi on her tummy and her knees spread wide apart, lifting her hips to his thrusting member. He pressed his one hand on her neck to keep her in place while the other held her teenage hips, caressing the smooth skin on his child’s body. With his back to the door, Michael did not see Sola enter the room, but she could see his face on the mirror. She could see his look of concentration and exertion as he closed his eyes to better enjoy the feeling of the friction of his member dancing inside his daughter.
Sola caught Funmi’s eye in the mirror and she could see the rage and fear and confusion swimming in those brown eyes.
With a savage cry, Sola covered the distance, swinging her weapon at the surprised Michael. For all the strength she had left in her body, she only managed to daze Michael for a few moments. An enraged Michael got to his feet and turned his gaze on Sola, and in that moment, she knew she would die if he caught her. She fled as fast as her tired legs could carry her.
Little good it did her.
Michael had her on her back in their living room where he caught her. His eyes were dark pools of hellish pleasure as he wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed. He did not rush it. He squeezed slowly and steadily till he cut off her air supply and her eyes bulged. She thrashed under him, struggling to get him off her. She could feel his rigid manhood pressing against her crotch, which was surprisingly soaked; she kept struggling as he thrust into her. She cried in her heart knowing her daughter would have to live with this beast in her absence. She closed her eyes to the world, and the last thing she heard was the angry roar of thunder and the distant clang of iron on bone.
Sola wake a few minutes later, which could easily have been hours, to the sound of a familiar voice wailing and screaming in pain.
She dashed up the stairs to the torture chamber to find a scene that left her breathless and stunned.
Michael was tied to the ceiling with his legs barely touching the floor. There were four different short-blade knives in each of his thighs. His torso was criss-crossed with the tell-tale marks of a knot-ended whip. His chest had been branded with a heated arrow-head poker, and it was done with a little too much force.
There was a foul odor in the air that hung heavy and thick like a fell miasma and from where Sola stood, it was obvious Michael had shit himself. Seeing all these things, Sola quickly looked around the room looking for her daughter.
As she looked, she ran to cut Michael loose before his attacker returned.
“Who did this Michael?”
“I’m gonna kill that little bitch”
“Call me a beastly coward, did she? I’ll show her beastly!!!”
Michael’s face was twisted in a most ugly mask of hideous anger with his nostrils pulled back and wide apart, his upper lip drawn taut and high as if to reveal his canines that seemed longer than Sola had ever seen them. He looked like a ferocious beast as his eyes, which were bloodshot in pain or anger or both, seemed to lose focus as he roared his rage in a deep bass that boomed through the attic, not unlike the clap of thunder chased after lightening in the wet darkness that seized the night sky.
“Who did this?” Sola asked, dreading the answer she already knew in her heart.
“That little bugger!”
“Where’s Funmi?” she asked Michael who was still spewing hateful words.
“I’m gonna kill that bitch!!!” Michael screamed as he wrapped his fingers around Sola’s neck for the second time that evening. He felt he had to re-assert his position as the lord of the manor. His reign, however, was pathetically short. Before he could do much damage, he squealed and keeled over for Sola to see the huge knife sticking from his back. Sola looked up in shock to see a stunned Funmi standing over her and the corpse of her father.
“What have you done?!”
* * *
The officers stayed quiet through Sola’s tale. Nisuba stood, giving a solemn promise to ensure that Sola got a fair hearing from a lenient Judge. With that the trio marched out of the office.
As Sola walked to her room that evening, she prayed her daughter would come out of the entire affair ok. She wished that, somehow, Funmi would escape the long arms of the law. Her wishing and prayers ended when she saw that she had received mail. She didn’t need to open it to know what it contained. With the envelope in hand, she hurried down the cell block to the Chief Warden’s office.
* * *
Funmi stepped back to admire her handiwork. Another wife-beater-cum-child-molester was off the streets. In her opinion, she was doing the world a favour. So what if she got her rocks off while she did the society a great service, every hero deserves some form of reward. The knights won their damsels; the Crusaders got a one way ticket to heaven if they died in battle; Funmi got her oven stoked!
The guest was hanging off the ceiling of her basement from a chain that had his feet barely to the ground. Nude and gagged, Funmi admitted that she liked the way his member breathed along with him. It was fat and succulent and he was not even awake. She was going to enjoy this one for longer than was usual for her.
She cradled the heavy limb in her hand, enjoying the weight of it against the heat of her palm, she leaned in close to take a whiff of his thick musky scent that had her juices flowing ever so sweetly in her ‘special place’. She rolled her tongue slowly, tenderly and skillfully around his glans, panting in anticipation as the sleeping member went from flaccid to turgid, redefining her concept of the word BIG.
She was bending over to swallow the ‘one-eyed serpent’ that was attached to her new toy when the alarms went off. A quick check on the monitors told her it was time to go. Her get-away bag was easily accessible and she picked it up, typed in the self destruct sequence into her systems to ensure her whereabouts from that point stayed hidden.
She injected an air filled syringe into her guest from behind his ear; dead men don’t talk.
A slow fire later, she moved a heavy drape and used the door behind it. She would be long gone before they realize she was not in the house before the fires started.
* * *
Funmi enjoyed the feel of the sea breeze in her hair. The captain, whose bed she shared throughout the voyage, had said they were two weeks away from Cape Town. She could see the rain clouds coming in the distance. She smiled like she had not smiled in the six weeks since she escaped into the tunnel opening that led into the old sewer systems of the city.
Six weeks since she last saw her mother. Well, she knew her mother would have gotten the letter she had left her before she disappeared. It hurt to say goodbye to her mother via post, but it had to be done.
The cruise ship, ZOHRALUNE, was large enough to hold over two hundred people and no one on the ship bothered with the quiet chocolate-skinned woman who kept mostly to herself unless she was the captain. Funmi liked it that way. The heavy clouds released their bounty in a gentle drizzle and in that rain, Funmi let herself cry. She had to build a new life in a new country. She just wished she could make her mother proud.
“The rain is good…” she said to herself, “Nothing like the tears of spring to wash away the deeds of the sinner”