Sex crimes in the United States have soared to embarrassing numbers, from the harmless neighborhood peeping Tom, the incurable voyeur on up to the grisly murderers who consciously plot to rape their victims and perform heinous rituals over their maimed bodies. Horrible ...! Slap them away, you say, throw them behind bars and let them rot ... get their names off the front page of the paper, for Godsakes, and let people forget!
Not that simple. Their poison lingers, the venom still stings ... someone.
Amy Hanson, a young widowed nurse working in the Rehabilitation Ward of a Chicago hospital happens to be that unlucky someone in Edward Mitchell's thrilling novel studded with a colorful cast of characters-all men who have been convicted of sex crimes and are temporarily detained for psychological testing to ascertain the depths of their perversions. Curable or incurable?
In a sense, Amy is a prisoner of her own making, shrouding herself in a dark cocoon of lonely despair, irreversible and self-defeating, surrounding herself with the lowest ilk of male animals, afraid of looking for the good in men and suffering inevitable disappointment. The convicts' sexual taunts and tasteless comments never ruffle her steely grip, absorbing it all in blind acceptance.
Their contempt of her grows, seething, until one day an inmate decides to sluice up the boredom of institutional life and stages a conflict between himself and the reticent redheaded nurse whose untouchable womanliness was too great a temptation after six months of celibacy.
The Captive Nurse is not for those who cannot stomach blood or swallow the fact that in some circumstances, the female definitely is the weaker sex.
The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Except for the occasional gush of flushing water in the bathrooms beyond, the sterile white walls of Washington Memorial Rehabilitation Ward echoed nothing. The cries of mental anguish had silenced after eight o'clock medication. The janitor had long since left after having buffed the hallway to a mirror glass polish as if no one had ever scuffed that dreary stretch from the patients' lounge to the sleeping wards beyond.
To the right of the deserted game tables and silent television a diffused light yellowed the nurses' station, safely encased in a glass cage with a sliding reception window to restrict face-to-face communication with the patients. At the desk sat Amy Hanson, night nurse, flipping through a dog-eared Vogue magazine. Usually two nurses sat out the night watch, but Mill Dobson had telephoned in ill and night shift replacements on short notice was delicate choosing. That dreary solitary vigil might have irked other nurses, but not Amy. She was inured to being alone.
A few doors beyond the nurses' station and down the darkened hall in the employees' lounge, snoring interspersed with little bird whistles added its own sleepy rhythm to the night. The darkened shadows hid the coal blackness of Satchmo Jones slumped against the wall, a half empty pint of whiskey adding weight to his dragging coat pocket. A jazz musician from New Orleans, he'd come north to Chicago during the Depression to find work, but his gutsy horn didn't match Old Town's svelte style. Everybody knew Satchmo took to the bottle, but he'd been in the rehabilitation ward so long story had it he'd once been a patient there himself. Only Satchmo knew the truth, and he was seldom sober enough to tell.
The patients in Ward B warmed to the man, something about his soft-shoed shuffle and Cajun wit added a sparkle to the gloom of endless white and endless time, marked only by meals and medications. For some that slender demarcation was of little consequence-one routine traded for another-but no home bodies, these. Criminals, convicted of sex crimes-rape, incest, pathological homosexuals who added color (shady though it was) to these sterile surrounds.
All of the male patients in Ward B had been sent here under judge's order for psychological testing to ascertain whether their anti-social behavior was permanent or a temporary kink in their psyche. A raucous, foul-mouthed bunch they were, playing poker, gambling for cigarettes, driving the nurses to tears with their disgusting, filthy talk. A few knife fights had erupted here, and the day guard bore a scar on his forehead to prove it. Satchmo's shift was respected as reverently as mass to an Irish Catholic; they treated that old drunkard like the Pope himself.
The clock's hand slithered up to the three and Amy Hanson lifted her lithe arms above her head, stretching the crimped muscles in her slender neck, the full weight of her melonous bosom stretching the tight nylon of her white nurse's uniform popping the top button. The shadowy valley of her creamy cleavage opened to the night and the white lace of her brassiere that cupped her puffy nipples peeked out. Quickly, her clearly lacquered nails closeted those milky mounds. God knew she had enough problems trying to keep these dirty animals in line without flaunting her bosom!
Her delicate fist cupped a yawn as she rose from the chair, poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped in a teaspoon of sugar stirring it. The old saying that people who craved sweets craved affection ran through her head; maybe true of others, but not Amy. Her freckled nose wrinkled as she took the first acrid sip and, with a sigh that hinted at weariness, she settled back in the chair and rummaged through the magazine rack for something unread ... a near impossibility. She perused the New Yorker, reading the jokes with tight-lipped humor.
Tonight was unusually peaceful. Nobody woke up screaming and Butch wasn't walking in his sleep. Even Josh, the six foot three Black man arrested for his ponderous and physically abusing his working girls, was causing no ruckus.
A good night for magazines and coffee.
Had Amy been outside of her cage she might have noticed the little bird whistles had been replaced by the shuffling footsteps of Satchmo Jones lumbering down the hallway, his black eyes shot through with red as he made his nightly raid of the employee's communal refrigerator. He neared the nurse's station, paused and peered within, making certain that Nurse Hanson had her nose buried in a magazine. A strange woman, that one.
Satchmo scratched the white wool of his hair and shook his head. When God passed out the looks, he sure as hell gave Miss Amy her share. Skin so creamy and white you wanted to dip a spoon into it. Tiny brown freckles splattered over her arms with a few scarce ones on her cheeks. Why she wore those strawberry curls up in an old maid's pug, pulled back tight as her cracked smile, he couldn't understand. And those silver grey eyes that never smiled. What a sorry waste! Satchmo snickered to himself. Ah, the stories he'd heard about that woman would make a nun's ears burn. The ward had taken bets on whether those breasts were all Miss Amy ... and by God, he'd like to be the one who ran the test! Satchmo's shoulders rounded and he slouched on by, moving rhythmically as if to the tune of an old Dixie beat. He disappeared into the refreshment room beyond her station, rubbing his stomach with a gnarled hand. Maybe Nurse Henshaw had left half a sandwich ...
Out of the corner of one silver eye, Amy noticed the dark shadow of Satchmo making his nightly raid on the refrigerator. Nobody cared, really. If the old man could get his kicks out of eating somebody's stale sandwich, let him have his fun.
Fun ...? She smiled bitterly. What was that?
Amy glanced up at the institutional clock and sighed heavily. This crazy schedule of staying up all night and sleeping all day jumbled things up, but was not without compensations. Night had turned into a black stretch of bad memories and cold sheets. Not since Joe had she ...
Joe ... Her throat constricted dryly. The empty pit in her stomach knotted at the thought of him. Two years should have been enough time to ease the pain. Not so. Fate had shorted her of happiness, lending her Joe for five measly years ... five years of frivolity, arguments and making up afterwards, tears and laughter, love and ... sex.
She ached for the essence of him. The way he threw his clothes in a corner and doused himself with too much cologne ... the motorcycle rides in the country. A stifled moan escaped her reddened lips. That damned motorcycle. She choked up. A Sunday afternoon ride on Highway One ... fallen dirt eroded from the cliffs muddied with early morning fog ... a hairpin turn ... the gust of wind ... and he was gone. Poof. Dream ended. Sorry lady.
Two years of celibacy droned on. Time to take a lover? Oh, there had been one or two ... Dr. Kildran from Ward C and, another man ... a renter in her apartment building, but all they wanted was sex, minus love and commitment. In the interim, her hand had sufficed, sorry substitute that it was. That weakness in herself disgusted her.
Amy set down her magazine and stared silently into space, her body suddenly coming alive from caffeine and the sodden memory of being a woman in love ... sexually vibrant and wanting. Her sweating palms clasped onto the chair's arms, as she recalled how those same hands had lovingly grasped Joe's long hard penis, pumping it until it pulsed with life, brushing its shiny naked head against the moistly swollen lips of her hungry vagina. Poising it there, teasing. OH, how he loved that ... the way she grabbed his hot maledom and stuck it up inside herself. That was the beauty of it, Joe always revved her into a wild mood; sometimes he used his fingers, sometimes his mouth, tasting her, sampling her femininity as if it were a delicate appetizer.
Oh, and the gasp of pleasure he gave out when he levered his fuzzy chest over her soft breasts and dove into her, thundering his cock into her vagina, making her squeal with delight and blush with shame at her own lewdness! He would plumb into the center of her womanhood until she felt his rubbery crown flick past her cervix while his bloated testicles spanked hard into the soft, hairless cleft between her upturned buttocks cheeks. What woman could ask for more from a man?
Joe was a man who could turn a lady, a feminine, frail being, into a jungle lioness, making her mouth four-letter words and think nasty thoughts. Oh, and he would shove his finger into her puckered rectum, bringing another squeal of pain that time turned into a squeal of ecstasy ... in that shattering moment right before she climaxed with him ... always cumming together. "I love you, I love you, I love you ... " the endless mantra of orgasm chimed on, bells dying in Amy's ringing ears as she glared into space, gently shaking her head to abjure it of palling memories too sweet for reality and too quickly embittered with age.
Amy gulped down a swig of coffee, pulling herself free of memories, but the uncomfortable fullness in her loins and the slipperiness that seeped out of her hungry, neglected vagina didn't listen to the dictates of time. She roused herself, thinking:
Not again! I can't let myself get morose and all worked up ... there's nothing I can do about it ... Joe's dead. Dead! But she needed a man's body rubbing up against her own. She winced at the paltry substitute, staring down at her own fingers. She blushed even as she thought about what they had done. It seemed so artificial, so deliberate, to just go ahead and use her hand for relief every time she felt herself feeling empty and hot.
The morning inched on and when the sun hung vibrant in the gray sky, Amy tided up the desk, washed out her coffee cup and headed down the hallway, Satchmo Jones trailing behind her, his reddened eyes locked on the nylon shimmer of Amy Hanson's fabulous legs. He wiped away a thread of spittle with the back of his aged hand and licked his lips.
Jesus, to have those sexy legs locked around his neck while his rejuvenated black cock pounded into her pussy ... or maybe he'd take her from behind. Naw, Nurse Amy wasn't liberated enough for that.
"Mornin' Miss Amy," he tipped his hat and left her at the exit door.
CHAPTER TWO
Six-thirty in the morning in Ward B was no place for a lady. The pink sky peeking through the iron bars cast striped shadows in the central lounge now slowly crowding with grumbling patients ready to be escorted to breakfast. Satchmo had stashed his empty pint bottle in the bottom of the trash can and left on Nurse Hanson's heels. The morning nurse, Dottie Tomkins, a tall full bosomed woman with a starched appearance and shapely body pulled in tight behind a no-nonsense brassiere stomped in to take her place.
Like most nurses in the Rehabilitation Ward, Dottie had begun the job with an open mind. These men were no animals; simply victims of society's cruelties, men who needed love and understanding to set them straight. With time her emotions had been trodden upon and dragged through the muck of four-letter abuse until her compassion had crystallized into a keen contempt for these deranged men who tortured her to the limits. They openly defied her, acting like a bunch of mentally retarded kindergartener's playing bad to get attention. That irked her, grated on her nerves ... especially those three.
Dottie stood stiffly inside the nurse's station, dragging long and hard on a cigarette, her gimlet eyes glaring at the room gathering with sexual deviants, as the law kindly labeled them. Her dark eyes locked on Butch, a handsome man, except for his lizardy lurking eyes. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched across his bulging biceps, his square jaw set determinedly, defiantly. "Dirty rapist," spat Nurse Tomkins, glaring at him through the protective shield of glass. Something about that man's disgusting stare made her reach up to her throat and make certain not an inch of naked flesh showed. The man was utterly unapproachable.
Hundreds of times she vowed to quit this job and return to emergency, but their disgusting abuse of her womanhood had opened a beehive of seething contempt for men, misaimed as it was, towards her milk-toast husband.
"Disgusting." She gnashed out her cigarette and with cocked eyebrows fixed her eyes on the darkly mysterious man. Statutory rape, wasn't that his charge? Her red lips drew into a tight smirk. A ripple of excited fear shot through her veins. Despite these depressing circumstances, there was something oddly stirring about giving orders to and taking abuse from these virile bodied, sex-fixated male animals who exuded a defiant strength most ordinary men sorely lacked. Like her Roger ...
Lord if she could borrow a little of Butch's fighting spirit and implant it in her weak-kneed husband, maybe he could work up the gusto to take her as a man should ... forcefully, masterfully, accepting no excuses. A burning frustration reddened her cheeks just thinking about the sterile years of marriage. Sterile as these damned walls ...
Dottie knew she was still a beautiful and desirable woman despite her thirty-seven years. Her hair wasn't smeared with a strand of gray and her well-molded hour glass figure was still in perfect symmetry, despite her attempts to smooth the contours with her loose fitting uniform. Roger hadn't even kissed her since she could remember when. If she were Amy's age, she would leave that excuse for a man and find a husband who knew how to treat a woman. Still, she rationalized that her iron-fisted control over that flimsy man was better than no man at all.
Her thoughts trailed off to Amy ... poor thing. She had looked so bedraggled and dreadfully unhappy when they passed in the hallway this morning. Why a beautiful young widow like Amy would deliberately seclude herself in the glum atmosphere of Ward B from nine o'clock at night until six in the morning was beyond Dottie's comprehension. No husband ... what a shame that her sole social contact with men was limited to these perverted rowdies who made her the target of abuse. Was it because Amy was young? Or was it the blatant fact that Amy Hanson was one hell of a gorgeous woman hidden behind a plastic veneer of unscratchable composure, never succumbing to rage.
* * *
One by one the men dressed in white T-shirts and white ill-fitting pants, filed into the lounge from breakfast, milling about out there, settling down at the television and game tables. Sure enough, Butch and Josh and Ben, the incorrigible triumvirate were pulling up their chairs and dealing cards, lining up their cigarettes like a pile of poker chips.
"Seven card stud ... " Butch called the game and squinted around the smoke from the cigarette dangling from his lips, his forehead wrinkling as he dealt the cards.
Josh snickered. "Stud ... yeah." He nodded his balding, coal black head toward Nurse Tomkins who was glaring at them through the glass looking at him as if she wanted something. "I'd like to give her stud service. That cunt reminds me of this little white chick I had workin' the streets ... had to beat the livin' shit outta her to get 'er in the mood."
Ben picked up his card. "It's 'er naggin' and bitchin' that gets my goat. Shit, how'd ya like to be her ol' man? Bet the poor sonofabitch ain't got a cock left to pee outta." A diabolic glimmer lit up his gray eyes and he unzipped his pants, fumbled around for his penis, drew it out and wagged his stubby flesh at Nurse Tomkins. Her hand flew up to her face. Ben guffawed. "Bet she ain't seen a cock for ten years." He stuffed it back into his pants, looking to Josh for approval.
Josh made his bid and threw a cigarette into the ante. "Never make a workin' girl, that's for damned sure. But that night nurse ... that pink headed blonde could make five a night. Christ, those tits! Any man'd pay a hundred bucks just to bury his face in 'em." The convicted pimp scratched his head, a wide grin slowing off a row of perfect white teeth. "Anybody wanna make a bet on those tits? I say they ain' all her."
"Hey, no way, man." Butch rubbed his square jaw with a heavy calloused hand, a far away glint in his eye. "One pack of Camels says them's her tits."
Ben looked at Butch then at Josh. "How ya gonna prove it man? Only way to tell is to get them juicy boobs in yer hand squeeze." He held up his hand and slowly clenched it into a fist.
Butch looked smug, cigarette ashes crumbling from the fired end onto the table; he didn't brush them away. "You know who yer talkin' to, man. I could talk the panties off a nun."
"Yeah, so what if you do get close enough to cop a feel? I don't trust no rapists." Josh raised the bet one Camel.
"Tell ya what ... I'll bring ya back her bra. How's that?"
Josh raised his eyebrows, his eyes laughing. "Yer on, man. Give me five!"
They slapped hands and went through the back alley ritual of a sealed bet.
Three heads turned as Nurse Tomkins picked up the microphone and in a starched voice interrupted the piped in Montavanni music. "Butch Hotchkins, Dr. Ballard is expecting you at nine o'clock. The guard will escort you to his office."
"Hear that, man?" beamed Josh. "You get to talk to the shrink. That dumb-ass asked me yesterday, he says, 'Do you masturbate?' And I say, jack off, man! You kiddin'? I had me a stable with seven bad lookin' babies beggin' for me to fuck 'em in the asshole ... "
Ben snickered and surreptitiously stole a cigarette out of the ante and lit it. "Bet that horny ol' fucker got hard jes thinkin' about it."
"Hey, right on, brother." Josh' black eyes glistened; he slapped the table with his black paw. "I start tellin' the dude about my black mommas, describin' 'em right down to the pussy hair and he jes' sit there droolin'. Then I notice he's got but one hand on his desk and by God if he weren't playin' around down there between his legs, gettin' red in the face!"
"Pompous assholes," sneered Butch, glaring at the nurses' station where Nurse Tomkins puffed on a cigarette. "My luck to roll in the sack with the Chief of Police's daughter. When I get outta this loony bin that little bitch'll be twenty five and I'm gonna fuck her brains out and send pictures home to her daddy."
"Don't feel bad, man," empathized Ben. "My ol' lady found out I had this chick on the side and so she and her hot-assed lawyer she'd been fuckin' put me behind bars. Looking at that bitch ... " He returned Dottie's cold eyed stare, "is punishment enough, but shit, it's bettern' fightin' off faggots."
CHAPTER THREE
Was it the moon, that time of the month or what, wondered Amy, leaning over the sink, her naked stomach goose bumping from the touch of cold porcelain tickling her still wet skin. She stood in her pink bikini panties, naked on top, the juicy mounds of her luscious breasts reflecting in the bathroom mirror streaked with shower steam. Whatever the cause, that old gnawing hunger that had kept her company for seven hundred and thirty days of frustration was rearing its ugly head and sending red devils dancing down there between her slender thighs.
She drew a heavy comb through sopping hair, its red pinkish highlights brighter now in the keen bathroom light. It wasn't quite red and it wasn't quite gold. The wet strands, already hinting at curls, draped over her creamy naked shoulders. Amy wished she could wear her hair long and loose and free, but nursing regulations forbid it ... besides, she had enough trouble with those nasty minded men without flaunting her sensuality. Joe had loved her hair long and wavy, blowing freely in the wind as they rode his Harley 750 down Highway One on a Sunday morn ...
The steam had dried on the mirror and she studied herself, staring into her cool gray eyes lidded with long brown eyelashes that needed no curling. She examined her body, staring down at her melonous breasts, cupping them in her hands and weighing them. Yes, Joe had loved them, too. And they hadn't changed since Joe ... the pussy, pink nipples still their vibrant blossoms, not turning dark with age as some women's do. But then she was hardly over the hill at twenty-six.
Helen Reddy's plaintive love song ended and the click of the stereo arm retracting sent her running to flip the album over, her breasts jouncing with her sprint.
"Oh, dear!" she glanced at the clock. Seven already and there was still her uniform to press and her hair to dry! She let out a weary sigh; why couldn't it be for a date with a man whose company she enjoyed, a man who would treat her as a woman instead of a threatening mother figure or whatever those sick creatures considered her to be.
Ginger, a lazy Siamese lifted his head wearily, staring at his mistress as she rushed about her one bedroom apartment, yanked out the ironing board from behind the refrigerator and filled the steam iron with water. Still, the fullness in her heated loins didn't lighten, and her delicate fingers seemed to have swollen to thumbs; she poked the iron's hot tip over the uniform's bodice, jabbing at seams mercilessly. "Ohhhh ... " she groaned and glowered over an amber scorch stain.
Amy slammed down the iron and buried her face in her hands, heart pounding, shoulders trembling. Why wouldn't memories die? If the body dies and not the spirit, for God sake why then did she still respond to Joe's dead body as if it were still alive and throbbing beside her?
What would fill this empty, empty hole in her spirit?
Her rosebud mouth drew up in a smirk. No metaphysical query, this; the answer was fluttering about in her voracious vagina this very second!
Standing at the ironing board, her body stiff as its steel frame, she gave way to memories, while the minutes ticked on ...
Damn you for leaving me Joe! God, I begged you not to go that day! You wouldn't listen ... damn you!
* * *
"Joe, please ... it's ugly outside ... all drizzling and icky. Let's stay around the house and read the Sunday paper. Promise I won't hog the Sport section's crossword puzzle." Joe, sports enthusiast with an insatiable appetite for danger, she'd met him in L.A. (they'd been living in California then) where he had been contracted for stunt work on films.
Muscular sinewy arms stretched above a head of black curls and Joe's bristly chest expanded verily in a storming yawn. Impossibly blue eyes caressed Amy's body in their special way.
She was so damned precious, that woman ... all pink and white, peaches and cream, from the lustrous hair falling in waves over her shoulders to her polished toe nails. He scooped her up, cuddling close, burying his face in her perfumed hair, his strong palm pressuring her in closer to his pounding chest until her puffy nipples mashed against his steely chest.
Morning his favorite time for lovemaking ... before the telephone rang and Amy left for work ... an extension of the night. One strong arm pulled her lower in the bed, his hand reaching up to stroke at the baby softness of her silken hair. That incredible hair ... not quite red and not quite gold ... some aphrodisiac color the devil whipped up to tempt him. Joe stared trance-like down at his wife's delicate features, feeling that same heady school boy excitement she'd incited in him the first time they set eyes on each other.
Reverently, Joe lowered his head, his soft lips parting laxly to closer over her trembling ones still tasting of sleep. "Mmmmmmm ... baby ... I could eat you up!" he growled playfully, slipping further down in the bed until his chin brushed against the warm cleavage of her milky breasts. Deftly, one finger pulled down the night gown strap, down over the pouting nipple of her right breast. Amy giggled girlishly, her eyes closing as his warm mouth entrapped that quivering bud and sucked, vacuuming the breast into his hungry mouth. He reached under silky gown to push it up and out of the way while his left hand travelled up the smooth plane of her legs ... up to the gently curving thigh, probing toward the center where his fingers entangled in her pubic curls.
"Why don't you take this off?" he murmured, giving her room to work. Off came the nightie, fluttering to the floor. Bracing one hand on the bed, he levered himself over her, smiling his approval at the inches of naked flawless skin tempting his eyes. His velvety tongue shot out to run a tingling path from one nipple to its twin, down the midline of her goose bumped torso until the hot tip probed at the jewel of her navel ... down further over the softly mounded plane of her tummy to her forested nest of pubic curls. Hovering over her, his breath goose bumping her body, he moaned contentedly and jabbed his tongue to part the curls of her pubic tendrils, laving them open to the red marble of her clitoris.
Eyes closed to everything but this sanctimonious moment, Amy tangled her fingers in his jet black curls, gently urging his face down into her cunt Gently ... love between them a ceremonious sacrament. The white skin of her thighs quivered and her legs parted, offering up all of her ...
To have that now! ... when anything less than Joe's special masculinity proved more disappointing than her own ten digits!
* * *
Dinner in Ward B had long since past and the patients groaned about the lounge, feeling the lazy effects of eight o'clock medications. Some watched television, some played solitaire and others sat glassy eyed staring off into space.
In their reserved corner Josh and Ben and Butch sat tirelessly dealing cards, much of their gusto gone now as sleeping pills began numbing their brains and quieting their libidos.
Butch rubbed his chin, his eyes sparkling in some unspoken plot. "What time does Nurse Hanson come in?"
Josh turned his head lazily, the pills droning his speech to a lazy slur. "Nine ... "
Ben raked his eyes off his cards and stared dumbly over at Butch. "You aren't thinkin' of doing anything funny, now are ya?" Ben was the hesitant one, having learned a hard lesson from that one sour mistake of recklessness. "Shit, this place ain't the Ritz, but we got a good TV and the food ain't all that bad."
Butch answered with a smug glance up at the clock. "Just thinking, Ben, just thinkin'."
* * *
Two hours later Amy Hanson sauntered into the nurses' station, a stack of women's magazines in her hands. Ruefully, she eyed the note atop the desk: "Milly called in ill ... sorry but we couldn't get a replacement."
After a cup of coffee, she slumped in the chair, reading through the daily records to check for special medications to be administered. One notation: "Butch Hotchkins. Symptoms-sinus headache. Dosage-one antihistamine every four hours. Simple enough ...
The ward was suspiciously quiet as her white rubber soled shoes slapped against the linoleum. The employees' lounge was golden with light and whistling with snores. Satchmo lay slumped back flat on the couch, his mouth gaping open, his pocket dragging with the weight of a half empty bottle. Amy sucked in her breath disapprovingly. It would be cruel to fire the poor old man for he held a magic over this floor, drunk or sober; nobody stepped on his toes. The water glass clinked against the plastic tray supporting it as Amy walked down the hall toward the wards where the stuffy smell of man sweat stung her nostrils.
Something about standing undefended amidst this dozen sleeping men disquieted her. Their dreams ... sexual, no debut. Making love to their mothers, raping nuns ... what ran through those pathetically warped brains?
Fortunately Butch's bed was near the door. Amy peered within and tiptoed up to him, the snores of sleeping men rattling in her ears. Tentatively she reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
He bolted and sat upright, his broad black-haired chest glistening in the dim hall light peeking through the cracked door. Amy sucked in her breath, her D-cup breasts swelling a full two inches with her gasp ... his rippling chest muscles too suggestively sensual for a woman in her weakened mental state.
"Y-your medication ... " Her face never lost its stoic freeze, even as she held the tray out to him, her silver-blue eyes locked on his bulging biceps. Funny ... they hadn't appeared that awesome hidden under his T-shirt. He didn't take the tray.
"Ohhh ... " he wrinkled up his forehead and rubbed his burly black haired head with strong fingers. "I ... I'm not feeling too good." He cupped a hand to his mouth, belched and rubbed his strongly muscled stomach as if to quell it. "I ... I think I'd better get to ... " He threw back the covers and jogged down the hall, making for the men's room.
The nurse looked at him flying down the hall in his draw-string pajama bottoms and then down at the tray. Amy shrugged and waited. Two minutes passed, four ... finally after ten minutes she grew impatient.
What to do? She couldn't forge her way into the men's room to check him and dispense with this pill. Impatience piqued. This is what they hired a night guard for, darn it, and trying to rouse Satchmo was an even match with risking the sealed off men's room. She shivered, thinking of being alone in the same room as Butch.
Another ten minutes lapsed ...
Disgruntled, she headed briskly for the men's room, her rubber soled shoes slapping gently against the floor. Tentatively she pushed open the heavy door and peered inside. The glaring light stung her eyes; she squinted. Her stoicism cracked for a second. Butch had passed out on the floor, his mouth gaping open, looking pale and consumed!
"Are ... are you all right?" Coquettishly careful to keep her legs together, she knelt down at his side and touched her soft hand to his forehead. It felt clammy, but not fevered. Damn it, why did she have to handle this situation alone?
Cautiously, Butch opened one dark eye level with Nurse Hanson's slender stockinged ankles. His eyes roved up the silkiness to her knees, then up to the tight bodice where her soft breasts pressed tight against her knees as she hunched over.
"Unnnggghhhhhh ... " Butch struggled to sit up, feigning a sick stomach. Wobbling to his feet, he slumped toward a stall, banging the door ajar behind him. Amy watched in wide eyed horror as he slunk to his knees, retching. The symptoms weren't serious enough to alert the doctor on duty, but criminal or not, the man's condition required attention. She walked toward the stall door and pausing, questioned her impetuosity. The sound of flesh hitting the floor rousted her out of indecision and she yanked open the stall door and stepped in. Butch rose wearily to his feet and swung around facing her. Surreptitiously, he sidestepped her, placing himself between her and the door. He was about to win his bet!
Amy's eyes widened like a cornered Siamese cat, "No ... no ... " She read the lust in his glinting eyes, heard his quickened breathing, felt his thumping heart as he pressed close to her, the essence of man filling her nose, charging her with electric thrills that spelled out dread and want confusedly.
Butch's upper lip curled amusedly and he snickered down at her, his strong fingers spreading to grip her trembling chin, locking her head in place. His eyes laughed sadistically as he pinned her to the door, savoring her terrified expression, then ground his mouth against her succulent lips, his tongue shooting deeply inside her mouth with a fast, hungry probe. His hot tongue ran over her teeth, slithering down her throat to tease her tonsils, sucking on her tongue trying to pull it into his hot cavern.
Amy struggled like a cornered cat, straining every sinew to get loose, hysteria rising like mercury in her heated veins. But Butch's fuzzed arms were strong, impossibly strong and he pinned her in place, grinding his sweaty body against her soft curves. Her screams were stifled in her throat by the persistent tongue that invaded her mouth as if trying to eat her alive.
This was a trap! Her gray eyes bulged with terror as the kiss sucked on. With alarm, she felt his thick hard erection pressing against her belly. Good God! He was ... huge! Amy thought of that poor young girl whose father had sent this man to prison for raping his daughter. Amy cringed.
He broke the kiss for a moment, testing her resistance and looked down at her for a long time, a deep warmth smoldering in his eyes. Suddenly, he gathered her into his arms, her warm flesh pressing against his, and kissed her with fury, flattening and spreading her lips open until his tongue jabbed deep into her mouth.
A frightened hollowness came alive in the pit of Amy's stomach, and for a reckless moment she closed her eyes, all fight gone. She parted her soft, moist lips to accept his kiss, feeling his naked arms slinking around her body, drawing her close to him. His kiss was insistent, rapacious, meaningful ... not the kind of mashing kiss one would expect of a rapist. A little whimper escaped her lips, matching the low hum of lust gurgling from Butch's throat.
Suddenly she was shaken from the reverie of a daydream by teasing pressure of his anxious fingertips along the delicate line of her slender, perfumed throat. Amy froze, her lips drawing tight in fear, unresponding to his probing kiss. The rising passion drained from her body as his expert fingers dropped even lower and his hand moved toward the cleft of her valleyed cleavage. The closeness of his touch sent sharp electric thrills running through her breasts, centering magically at the distended nipples. Instinctively, though unconsciously, she pressed forward to thrust the tender swelling mounds further into his kneading palms.
"Dear God," she moaned, breaking the kiss and wrenching her chin free of his grip. "Let me out of here!"
"Don't give me that lady. You're diggin' me grinding my hard cock into your belly." Smirking, he thrust his pelvis painfully into her stomach, smashing her against the wood door, bending his legs a little until his long starved penis jabbed right up into her crotch, probing, jabbing, a smear of lubrication wetting his pajama bottoms.
Amy closed her eyes, holding her breath, trying to will away the starving desire throbbing down in the playground between her slender thighs. She stiffened, every nerve ending in her body fighting the mutinous battle against temptation. It would be so easy to let him touch her, thrust his hot and heavy manhood into her cunt ... banging against her cervix, squirting her full of his cum.
Butch grinned triumphantly down at her, keeping up the rubbing rhythm that was slowly eating away at her resistance. "Come on, baby ... you been wantin' a nice hard cock to fuck into that pink pussy ... I can see it in your eyes, girl." His voice was soft, almost mellifluous and hellishly tempting
Amy swallowed dryly, her cheeks burning, her face turned away from his accusing glare. "No ... I don't want it," she managed to gasp out in between dry sobs. He had her pinned to the door now, holding her hands in his steely grip, rubbing, grinding against her lush, awakened body. His head shot down and he bit at her hardened nipples through the thin nylon of her uniform, until they throbbed in voracious pleasure. The button of her bodice popped open with the strain of her upheld arms, the lace of her brassiere peeking through.
Smugly, Butch let her hands fall to her sides and still imprisoning her, he reached inside her bodice, fingers digging into the fragile cups, ripping her bra. A low sob rumbled in Amy's throat as his cool hands touched her warm pulsing breasts, pulling them free of her brassiere.
Oh dear God, make him stop ... make him stop! Her vagina was burning with frustration, begging for something to fill it ... his fingers, his cock ... her fingers ... anything!
Butch's hot velvety tongue snaked out as the strawberry tips of her hardened nipples popped free of its confinement. With pooched lips, he lowered his head and sucked on the fiery tips, drawing them into his mouth, bathing them with his warm saliva.
Little grunts of undisguised lust rasped from Amy's throat. "Stop!" she moaned, her curly eyelashes fluttering over her cheeks. "Oh dear God ... please! I can't ... "
"You can't stand it, isn't that right, miss priss? Look at you, you're so fucking hot you'd suck me off if I wanted you to. You're the horniest little cunt I've ever set my eyes on, you know that?"
"Oh, stop! Stop talking ... fil-filthy like that!" Her buttonish chin quivered pathetically, then Amy sucked in her breath again as his roving hands slithered down over her belly, stopping to massage it for a moment, then up under her nylon uniform, snaking its way up her nylon covered legs up ... up to the crotchband of her pantyhose. Shamelessly she slumped against the door, one naked breast peeking out of her brassiere, its nipple throbbing under the touch of his hand while his other rummaged around under her skirt, yanking the elastic waistband of her pantyhose down over her hips while his fingers searched for the swollen lips of her neglected pussy. She clenched her smooth white thighs together, but his palm brushed electrically against her pubic curls, hesitating there before beginning to probe for the petals of her seeping pussy.
"Like that, don't ya?" teased Butch sadistically.
Amy trembled from the deliciously forbidden contact. Yes, it was good ... but God, she had to stop him! His fingers slipped deftly down, feeling the moist furrow of her wet cunt and involuntarily, Amy flexed her pelvis up against the convict's middle finger and flushes of hot and cold arrows darted up from the pink flanges of her lust ridden pussy.
This isn't Joe ... oh God, this wasn't Joel With a whimper she gathered up her sealed will power and pressed her palms firmly against his hairy chest, grunting with the effort of pushing him away. "No ... no ... stop!"
Butch wasn't about to stop ... not when he'd gotten this far! He flicked his hand, pulling the strangling pantyhose lower until his fingers had a wide playground in Amy's violently aroused vagina. Her eyes closed as she began a low, lascivious moan while his finger played maddeningly at her desire drenched pubic curls, tugging at them, stroking them like he would a cat, and then suddenly dipping into the quivering furrow of her pussy. His fingers rummaged around in the warm, moist recesses, pillaging her inner secrets and her whole body vibrated from the fierce arousal below. His fingers found the bud of her clitoris and teased at it, stroking the hard spearhead into throbbing erection, each probe bringing fresh moans of delirious lust to her lips.
Amy tried to blot out everything except for this frenzied sexual activity going on down there in her crying cunt. To quell that hunger was more than a need now, it was a do or die demand. Amy sobbed aloud when the rapist finally found the quivering cuntal entrance with his middle finger, and wormed it around in the wet, willing hole up to the knuckle. Grunting lecherously to himself, he rotated that digit around up there, feeling the spasmodic contractions of the smooth vaginal walls as he finger-fucked her in and out. She thrust her churning cunt further down, bending her knees, her face a crimson mask of wantonness as she tried to suck his finger into her pulsating depths.
"You love, bitch. You can't get enough of my finger!" accused Butch, gritting his teeth and ramming his finger into Amy's tight depths, a wet slurping sound filling the empty bathroom with the fierceness of it.
"You're ... you're raping me!" burst Amy. "You're ... doing ... this against ... my will."
"Bullshit!" spat Butch, watching her body twitch and stiffen and shoved another finger in the throbbing hole until they were teasing around in the velvety interior of Amy's straining cunt. She ground her soaked pussy against his hand and her vaginal milk flowed down into his laboring palms so that he could feel the soft pulsations of her hair-fringed cunt lips.
Her eyes had taken on a glazed lust-dimmed look, her upper lips stretched taut over her teeth, her fingers digging into his back now.
"You ready to let me fuck you?" Butch growled animalishly, and reached down to pull out his throbbing erection, already seeping anxiously.
"No ... No ...! Stop!" wailed Amy, her breasts heaving, sanity returning in a flood of shame. Oh dear God, letting this filthy man attack her like she was some back street whore! "Get away from me!" Her scream was real this time. "Get away from me, you ... you animal!"
Butch's hand fell away from her pussy, cool air wafting in to replace the hot fingers. His face went tight with disgust, his eyes narrowing to angry slits. "My cock isn't good enough for ya, huh? I can finger fuck you to death but you don't want my cock!"
Amy sneered, hot blasts of air snorting through her nostrils. "You filthy idiot ... dirty rapist." she spat. "Who do you think you are talking to me like some ... some disgusting whore!" In that deadly pall, she stared at the man, knowing she had incited the lust that glinted in his eyes. Her behavior was unforgivable, an insult to Joe, a disgrace to herself. Her mouth grew wet with self-loathing and she didn't consider the consequences when she spit in his face right then, strands of her spittle dripping down his cheekbones, dripping onto his chest.
"You little cunt, you don't deserve a cock. Go ahead and dry up ... you and that uptight Tomkins ... " She could see his teeth working in his jaw, but he said nothing more as he unlocked the stall door and stepped past her, wiping the spittle from his chest with the back of his hand and stomped out the door.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Amy crumpled to the floor, covering her face and weeping into her hands. What had come over her? She lay there, slumped over the commode, her hair disheveled, buttons torn from her uniform, the pantyhose strangling her knees.
Dear God, now what?
CHAPTER FOUR
Meat loaf again! Roger Tomkins glared sourly at the hamburger helper special, but held his tongue.
"Roger ... it makes me mad, leaving that poor thing down there with that old drunken fool ... " She attacked the meat loaf with a knife, whacking off a hunk and slapping it on his dinner plate as would a navy cook in a chow line.
Tactfully, Roger tuned out Dottie's voice that turned shrill under the flimsiest duress. Seventeen years of her rantings was purgatory enough for one man. Slop ... on went the mashed potatoes, piled high and lumpy.
" ... they're animals ... I don't know why the state spends the tax payers money on trying to rehabilitate creatures like that ... " she raved. "Do you want to know what happened today, Roger ... would you really like to hear?" Roger didn't bat an eyelash as he sat staring straight ahead. Her back to him, Dottie tutted disgustedly, stopped in mid-serve to wipe her forehead, brushing back steam curled bangs from her forehead.
Roger's eyes moved to stare at his wife benignly, his balding head shining in the kitchen light as he tried to conjure up in his imagination the woman he'd married back then ... the aggressive though tender young girl of twenty with the bouncing breasts, hand span waist and gently flaring hips. Where had all those bumps and curves hidden themselves over the years? Oh, he thought staring over a forkful of meat loaf, if he looked hard enough he could find them. Dorothy still had a damned beautiful body ... but getting past her mouth was the trick.
Dorothy Mildred Adderson ... what happened to you, fair thing? You were a lionness in bed back then, dear one. Pawing at my chest, pounding your heels on my back until you nearly cracked my ribs. Couldn't get enough could you ... never got enough, did you? You told me that time and time and time and time ... again ...
And those nights back in the early sixties, dear Dottie, when I was moonlighting it so you didn't have to work, dragging myself home half dead from that damned cab company at five in the morning, catching a few hours of sleep and then off to the docks for another shift I went. Yeah, that's when your complaining started. "Roger, why don't you ever make love to me ... Roger, make me feel like a woman ... Roger, who's that other woman ... I know there's one ... Roger, you're not a man!"
And now she wonders why I can't get all excited by crawling between her legs and giving her some ...
"I ... if anything happens to that poor Amy, I swear I'll raise holy hell ..."
"I'm sure you will ... " he muttered around a mouthful of potatoes.
Dottie pursed her red lips, her gimlet eyes burning coals. "What was that? Roger, I wish you wouldn't keep putting me down. Always criticizing me ... "
Roger forced a wry smile, his round blue eyes bulging over Dottie's bosom. Hell of chest, that woman has. Maybe tonight ... maybe tonight ...
* * *
Amy's mind was numbed, anesthetized ... but her body wouldn't stop its hungry rage. Her tears were blinding and she felt her way along the cool marble wall to the hallway where she scampered to the nurse's rest room, holding her gaping uniform tight with clenched fists. Her stockings were torn to shreds and her brassiere needed quick repairs if it was to hold her swollen still throbbing breasts from view. With a gasp she slammed the door shut after herself and locked it securely.
Oh, God! she wailed, taking one long look at herself in the mirror. Her mascara had streaked into clown-like black circles under her silver eyes and her mouth was red and swollen from Butch's brutal kiss and from the self-abusive biting of her lip to hold back tears and screams. She stripped off her underclothes.
The coolness of the damp wadded up paper towel felt good on her swollen pussy mound, and for a moment she held it there, feeling the cold dampness ease the throbbing somewhat. Amy lifted one foot to rest on the toilet seat and, bending the leg slightly, looked down to examine herself. Certainly there had to be some damage after his abusive attack on her loins. Her pubic mounds felt bruised from where he'd ground his hard penis against her belly. Using her fingers to separate the folds of her pussy, she held the swollen flanges apart. Dear God, it burned! These beasts who don't clip their nails ...
Butch's attack on her had had an effect she'd refused to admit. A strange thrill raced through her body making her forget about pride and pain. Her fingers continued their probing. Rubbing seemed to help the swelling, she discovered; in fact it felt very good, so she stroked the lips of her cunt slowly at first, then increased the rhythm to include the oily marble of her clitoris. That's when her legs started to shiver and goose bump. Oh, God, why couldn't he have touched her there? Ohhh, it feels too good to stop. It was quick this time. She clenched her teeth. I'm going ... to ... to cum!
She began moving her buttocks in a rocking motion, tilting her pelvis to meet the thrusting and stroking of her fast-moving fingers. Then she came ... a wail hissing through her teeth. Head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open, she stroked faster and faster until the sweet pain weakened her and she fell to the bathroom floor, exhausted. Her fingers, she noticed, dripped with a sticky female ooze that smelled heavily of lust.
Then lament set in ... lament and self-contempt.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Where's the bra, man? I ain' turnin' over no cigarettes without that bra," said-Josh, dealing himself a hand of solitaire.
"Hey, man ... I got so hung up finger-fuckin' her I plum forgot about snatchin' that brassiere." Butch weighed his words carefully, plotting his course meticulously. No damned woman was going to get away with spitting him in the eye; women had caused him enough trouble. One man's prick fucking into Nurse Hanson's hot cunt wasn't enough. That's what friends were for, right?
Josh had a way with women, but he was a hot head. Ben was the hesitant one, always counter pointing. Still, it was worth a try ...
Butch whipped off a story about his episode in the men's room stall that would have made a pimp blush. He spared no details.
"You really got your fingers in her pussy?" Ben was incredulous. "Nurse Hanson? Whew ... that's somethin'!" His deep blue eyes sparkled and his eyes fastened on the image of Bonnie, the delectable truck stop waitress on the Detroit to Chicago run. "She got nice buns, man?" He smiled at Butch's answer.
Butch nudged Ben with his elbow. "You want a little piece, huh, Ben?" He talked with his hands, sparing no insinuations. " ... some nice firm buns ... two nice hand fulls ... you can squeeze 'em between your fists, bite into 'em if you want ... stick yer finger in her ass and make the bitch squeal. Wouldn't that be nice, huh, Ben?" Ben's mouth started to twitch and his cheeks went red. "Like that little waitress out at the truck stop ... only better ... " Inch by intimidating inch, Butch leaned closer to Ben until finally their noses touched. Ben shrank away confused, curiosity piqued.
"Naw ... " He scrunched up his lips and shook his head. "I don' want no more trouble. I seen what happened to dudes when they slap ya in the sheets ... I don't want no more electricity in my brain."
Josh slapped his cards around, silently listening, weighing Butch's words. Finally he cocked an eyebrow. "Shit ...!" He threw his pack of cigarettes against the wall. "Christ, I'd love to fuck that bitch ... but I ain' risking no sheet for sloppy seconds ... "
"Me neither." Ben looked to Josh for reassurance.
Butch's mouth started to water with the sweetness of vengeance; a sly smug grin wrinkled his face. "Ain' nothin' sloppy about Nurse Hanson ... that chick's clean and smooth." He shrugged, about to drop the subject. "Go ahead and pass it up ... I had her beggin' for it last night ... shit, that cunt was screaming and moaning, lettin' me finger fuck her pussy." He stuck his middle finger in his mouth and sucked. "Yeah, sure 'nough ... still tastes of pussy." Casually, he picked up a cigarette saying no more.
Josh and Ben looked at each other, then back at Butch. Ben leaned over the table, grabbing Butch's arm, shaking it. "Tell us more ... "
* * *
One thing pleased Satchmo more than a full pint and that was pretty lady. Back in New Orleans when things were jumping in the French Quarter with the shrill of Dixie land jazz cutting the hot night air and pretty whores in skinny dresses and plunging necklines draping themselves around lamp posts with cigarettes dangling out of their rouged mouths ... those were the days Satchmo wanted to relive. Times when a man could get himself a fine piece of ass, just for being a nice guy. Nowadays, ah, women had turned inward, fighting for their rights and competing in a men's world, and the rest were all turned around on dope ... money, money, money, ripping off their Johns. Ahhh ... times had changed-sorely so.
The night guard sat in the lounge watching an old Columbo rerun from the set perched atop a ledge where nobody could reach the channels or turn up the volume. It avoided fights. The semi-circle of chairs was only half filled tonight. With no woman to keep him at home, Satchmo often came to work early and watched television with the men before going on duty. Tonight was one such night.
"Satchmo ... hey, man!" He turned his woolly head to see Butch jerking his head invitationally. The old jazzer raised out of the chair, his arthritic knees stiff from the cold November weather, and hobbled over to where Butch sat at the corner table.
"How ya been, Satchmo?" Butch thumped the old man solicitously on the back, watching his black eyes light up like smoldering coals. The man had spirit; Butch liked that.
"Jes' fine and yerself?" His voice was shaky from alcohol.
"Can't complain ... Hey, I got a little favor to ask of ya, Satchmo." He hovered close, brushing shoulders with the black man, the smell of whiskey flaring in his nostrils. "It's risky talkin' about it, but ya know Miss Hanson ...?" He nodded toward the nurses' station where the three o'clock to nine nurse sat munching on a bag of Fritos. "Well, Amy and me we've been havin' this thing goin'." He talked with his hands, cocking his eyebrows.
A suspicious smirk wrinkled Satchmo's full lips. "Naw ... ain' possible, not Miss Amy." He flapped his hand as if shooing flies and shook his head.
"You don' know nurses, man ... " Another solicitous slap on the back. "Anyway, she and me wanna get together tonight and have some time alone ... you know, a little kissy kissy ...?" He nudged Satchmo with his elbow and winked.
"Ah ... a little nooky, huh kid?" He banged his black hand on the table and laughed.
"You got the picture ... and I got a nice pint of Jack Daniels stashed under my mattress."
"Ah, you're a clever one, man."
"We understand each other, right?"
"Yer on, brother. You speak whiskey, you speak my language!"
* * *
Hours later Amy stole coltishly down the smooth stretch from Ward B's entrance past the stuffy area where essence of man hung heavily in the air, to the employee's lounge, pausing at the nurses' station. Not a glance to either side of her, eyes targeted ahead. Inside now, she closed the door solidly, turned the lights on bright and poured herself a cup of muddy looking coffee, staring sourly at the apology for Milly's third absent shift. Swiftly, she peeled off her cashmere coat, hung it up and bolted the door, then slid shut the reception window. The devil himself couldn't slither into her glass cage! Her lush body shivered from the memory of last night's near rape. It was her fault, pure and simple.
Dottie was right ... these men were beasts, criminals who deserved no kindness. And this was no job for a woman, either. A female couldn't be compassionate towards a man who abused women for his own sadistic pleasure. Butch ... the disgusting brute! Perhaps she ought to file a report on the incident, taking it up with the resident psychiatrist who would mete out the punitive measures. But that was opening an ugly can of worms, indeed ... Satchmo would be fired, doubtlessly, and that alone would make her the target of hospital gossip, not to mention what nasty little trick Butch might conjure up in his perfidiously warped mind. She must keep a low profile, run a tight ship, and wait until Milly came back to work ... nothing could happen with two nurses on duty.
Even as she thought about last night the tingling started to percolate down there between her luscious slim thighs, bubbling its way up into the center of her womanhood where it frothed heatedly. She gnashed her teeth against the lascivious flashes of Butch grinding his hotly throbbing penis against her belly, then bending his head to suck on her nipple ... taking all of it into his mouth, making its puffiness pucker and throb.
A trickle of coffee sloshed over the rim to puddle on the desk. What is wrong with me? I'm shaking all over ... Oh, this is no good, no good at all! She tried to dispell those beautifully sexual thoughts, but nothing could jar her consciousness from the delicious thought of a masterful male body hovering over her nakedly shivering one, plundering his bloated penis into her wetly seeping vagina ... Oh, God, she buried her face in her hands, listening to the ticking heartbeat of the clock on the wall behind her. Three thirteen it read in big black hands. Certainly it would be safe to visit the ladies' room located directly behind the nurses' station.
CHAPTER SIX
Feeling the hard coldness forced against his fingers, Satchmo opened one blood shot eye, his black forehead furrowed deeply from sleep. "Huh ...?" His blurry eyes focused on Butch Hotchkins sitting next to him on the employee lounge sofa, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees. His black hair contrasted wickedly with the pure white of his pajamas.
"Hey, Satch ... how's 'bout a little JD to warm the blood?" He unscrewed the cap for the older man, took a swig for himself, smacked his lips and held it out for Satchmo to follow suit. It took no coaxing. They sat in the lounge exchanging stories as if they were sitting in some two-bit a glass beer joint down by the tracks.
Satchmo wiped the spittle with the back of his hand. "Gonna get a little, huh, kid?" They laughed and slapped palms. "Miss Amy ...?" Satchmo shook his woolly head, his bloodshot eyes focusing on something unseen ... "Yeah, get it while ya can, kid ... keeps ya young. Wouldn't mind a little pussy m'self. Back in the jazz days, man ... " And here he shook his head, maintaining that distant gaze. "Miss Amy ..." His dark lips parted into a toothy grin and he stroked his crotch. "In my days, when we talked about a piece of ass, we didn't mean pussy." He winked at the younger man. "Want a little help, kid?"
Butch was taken off guard. "Sure, man." He grabbed the bottle from the night guard's hand and poured the booze down his throat. "Miss Amy, she's a real screamer ... so if you hear noise comin' from the back room don't pay it no matter."
Satchmo held up the half empty bottle in salute, chortling. "Get 'er in the ass, kid, get 'er in the ass!" he bellowed as Butch disappeared through the doorway, heading toward the nurses' station.
Amy hummed to herself, filling the emptiness of night with a top 40 tune as she picked up her handbag and stole around the glass cage toward the ladies' room. Her polished fingernails flicked on the light, bathing the room in a yellow glow. She dumped her handbag down on the cot and fumbled around its messy interior for the ivory handle of her hairbrush. Its boar hair bristles stroked at the strawberry tendrils of hair curling about her ears. She turned her head this way and that, studying her profile in the compact mirror.
Yes, she looked the same despite her goose bumping anxiety at being locked up alone with a dozen sexually perverted kooks! ... and that beast Butch Hotchkins! Lush, youthful, almost pristine, her ivory skin was smooth and unflawed with a tiny patch of freckles across her nose. Her twenty-six years didn't show the slightest hint of stress, only a dull sadness that never left her grey eyes, of which she was not aware. Again she dipped into her cosmetic bag for her lips gloss this time, and smeared it on with her fingertips. Leaning close to the mirror, she pooched her lips together, evening out the color, when suddenly the door creaked open and a dark shadow wedged itself in. Amy's lips parted in a silent scream, her dull gray eyes alight with terror.
Whirling around, she came face to face with Butch Hotchkins who stood grinning at her, his burly arms crossed over his broad chest like the man on the Mr. Clean bottle.
"Like what you see?" he asked, leering suggestively at her body, his dark eyes raking from her fluttering eyelashes down to her succulent lips parted in fright, down past her white swan-like neck demurely exposed in her very proper uniform, down to the heavy weight of her melonous breasts rising and falling now in the shallowness of her breathing.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" she demanded, her lips pursing unapprovingly, her eyes roving over the six feet two inches of imposing virility separating her from the door ... and safety. "Get out of here this minute!" she spat.
"Why, Miss Amy ... talkin' to me like that after the good time we had last night?" A crooked smirk ruined the symmetry of his square jawed features. She drew in her breath as he kicked open the door and stood squarely in the doorway, spreading his arms high above his head to grab onto the door frame above, as if to show off his bulging biceps poking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Her eyes stuck on the darkened patches of perspiration encircling his underarms, and her nostrils stung from the male essence of him. Joe ... Joe had smelled like that when he came in from the garage after working on his bike. Amy shuddered, backing up until she plastered herself against the sink, a scream dying in her throat.
"This is the rehabilitation ward, isn't it Miss Hanson? When I get out, I can get me a job as a male attendant in a place for kooky ladies. Now wouldn't that be fun ... gettin' 'em all hot and foamin' at the mouth ... "
His bitter words were rusted with irony, but it was his nefariously crooked smile that irked her, that diabolical grin that hinted at something she didn't understand ... yet. Experimentally, she garnered up her courage to advance two steps until she was nearly touching him. He didn't flinch and he didn't move to let her pass. His intention was clear.
Butch stretched his muscular thigh to the side, blocking her passage. "You ain' goin' nowhere, Miss Amy ... you and me is stayin' here for a party." His gimlet eyes glared into hers, snickering, mocking.
"Don't do this to yourself, Butch," pleaded Amy, her faltering courage giving way to deeper fear. "You'll only hurt yourself. They'll put you in the sheets and lock you up in a padded room! You've got to be either crazy or stupid to think you can get away with this."
Amy's neck pulled with tension as she stared up into those forboding eyes whose glimmering evil contrasted sharply with the half grin on his handsome face. "Last night you spit in my face and tonight you're worried about my future." He tutted mockingly. "Don' work, honey. Good try, but no dice."
Amy's heart sank as she heard his words. Mustering all her courage, she shot for an alternative approach, the soft womanly one this time. Gently, she stroked her hand over his chest, her fingertips spreading to cover his heart. "Why make me suffer, Butch? I didn't mean to hurt you or insult you. I like you." She swallowed her pride when she said it. "I hate to admit it, but I liked what happened between us last night, but ... " She faltered, struggling for the right words, then went on impulsively. "If you care for me at all, don't hurt me this way."
Butch stood unmoving, his upper lip curling in amusement, staring down at her contemptuously. "Nice acting, girl, but it ain't gonna work." His arrogant words cut through Amy's misery and she worked to still her sobs. "You and that bitch Tomkins have been eggin' us on, directing our lives ... tonight you're gonna take orders from me!" he said sourly.
No, thought Amy furiously. I'm taking orders from no one.
"You do not tell me what to do, Butch Hotchkins!" she blazed. "Now let me out of here before I call the night guard!" Angrily, she clenched her hands into fists and started beating against his chest, her strawberry pug's hair pins flying out of her upswept hair-do. She gritted her teeth, breath hissing between them, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks red. He didn't bat an eyelash.
Amusedly, his steely hands clamped over her lithe arms, stilling them. "Don't upset yourself, Miss Amy." His smile faded and his eyes gleamed cold as gun metal. "I'm going for something big, not some lousy rape. Besides, I got a pack of camels says you is fillin' out them bra cups and not a hunk of cotton."
"Oh, you ..." She grit her teeth against the effort of wriggling free of his grasp, her nurse's cap sitting askew on her mussed hair like some lopsided comical crown.
"Hey, calm down!" His grip tightened. "Don't use up all that energy before my buddies get here."
Before she knew what was happening, Butch took her arm in a brutal grip and dragged her back inside the ladies room and tossed her harshly down on the cot. The emergency button, she thought frantically, if I could just press it! But as she tried to rise, the man caught her shoulders and threw her back down on the mattress, pinning her and holding her there with his broad palm over her slender throat. His face twisted into a frightening mask of cruel fury and he leaned over, breathing hotly into her fear-stricken face.
"You won't make a fool of me in front of my buddies or I swear to Christ I'll kill you!" His breath snorted out of his nostrils. "Now are you gonna cooperate or do I have to get nasty?"
Although his hand was crushing her windpipe, cutting off her air supply until she saw tears, Amy managed to croak her consent. Immediately, he removed his palm. "Get out of that uniform before it's in ribbons."
She lay beside where he sat on the cot. Amy's eyes met his and she saw the lack of compassion in them. "I said get outta those clothes!" he repeated.
As her fumbling fingers tore at the buttons, fear tore at her chest. Compliantly, though, she slipped out of her crisp uniform, her lacy brassiere, her half slip and pantyhose. She couldn't bring herself to bare her starving genitals to this man's hungry eyes ... it was too contemptible to think of!
As she lifted her gray frightened eyes to him, his began to roam over the smooth, ripe curves of her naked body, a sadistic smile playing on his lips. Against her will, she felt a thrill of excitement tear through her body. To be naked in bed with a man after two long years!
"Now that we've got that one settled," he began softly, reaching over to pinch her nipples into hard peaks of tingling sensation making them pucker into rosebuds. "Now you're the patient and I'm the nurse ... nice little game, ain't it? Now you have to do what I say."
Amy could feel her traitorous body coming alive under his fingertips, throbbing and burning with growing excitement. Her mind blocked out his voice, concentrating on his actions. She did not notice as anger mixed with the lust in his expression.
"Ain't that right?" he repeated, tweaking her nipple harder.
A tiny moan escaped her throat as she felt the need churning in her loins.
"Answer me, cunt!" he shouted, twisting both nipples cruelly.
Jagged spears of pain shot from Amy's twin milky peaks as he continued to twist and pull brutally at her reddened nipples and, wrenched from her dreamy arousal, she struggled frantically to free herself from his excruciating grip. A rush of adrenaline flooded her veins and she managed to tear herself from his agonizing grasp and leapt up from the cot to run for the door. He caught her in mid leap-before her feet touched the floor-his hands clamped over her arm, slamming her back down on the mattress. She lay there quivering, naked except for the silly nurse's cap cocked on her head.
"All right, bitch." He panted from the exertion. "We'll do it the hard way!"
His hairy arms lifted as he tore his T-shirt off over his head and holding it between his bear-sized hands, ripped it to ribbons. Testing its strength between his clenched fists, he smiled in satisfaction, then turned on Amy who lay trembling on the rumpled Army blanket, its kakhi green the perfect complement to her creamy skin and strawberry hair.
"You make one move, bitch, and I'll slap you unconscious."
Amy's eyes widened in terror as she realized his intent.
"No, Butch, please," she begged. "I won't run away ... "
Butch snickered. "Damn right, you won't," he muttered, brutally yanking one of her slender wrists to the top of the mattress. With quick, efficient movements, he knotted the strip of cloth around her wrist, then wound the ends around the springs beneath the cot, drawing her arms up tight. When he was finished, there was barely enough slack in the bond for blood to circulate into her hand. No chance of pulling free this time. He repeated the procedure on the other wrist while she lay staring up at him, her face impassive, her eyes glinting. Butch laughed cruelly.
"You'll pay for this, you ... you rapist!" she spat up at him with slitted eyes.
"Fun, ain't it?" he smirked. "These fuckin' rags ain' nothin' compared to livin' behind bars and eatin' slop for breakfast and watching cunt nurses paradin' their tight asses in front of your nose. And that ain' all, little lady ... when my friends get here we will have fucked you every way but Sunday. Now shut that mouth before I stick it full of cock!"
Amy's throat was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she watched Butch turn his back and hooking his thumbs in his drawstring bottoms, pull them down over his hirsute buttocks, down to his knees and over his ankles. She wriggled, trying to loosen the ties, but it was no use. The knots were too tight and she abandoned her efforts before he saw her struggle. Joe had never raised a little finger against her, and the thought of this monstrous man whacking her made her shudder. Tied to a bed made her feel horribly humiliated. She was at this powerful man's mercy, this man who was filled to brimming with contempt for women. Yes, she must cooperate with Butch and his ugly friends. Oh God! She remembered then! Josh ... a Black man! Joe would turn over in his grave if he knew his wife was being ravished by a black man.
Her train of thought screeched to a halt as Butch turned around, completely naked, kneeling down on the bed. His long purple-veined cock was partially erect, a pearl of pre-cum oozed from its shiny tip. Just the sight of it started the involuntary fevered churning between her legs and, though she hated herself for thinking it, she had to admit it would solve a lot of guilt feelings having that powerful hardness filling her warm hungry pussy instead of her skinny fingers. Just the idea made her shiver with anticipation and, in spite of herself, a half grin crossed her face. Yes ... he would shove his penis into her, release his tension and that would be that. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his body lowering onto the bed beside her, the anticipation of his fingers touching her tingling body, his warm lips pressing hard on hers, weakening her fears.
To her shock though, she felt him lifting her head and she opened one eye to see him gathering up his pajamas, her uniform and the flat polyester filled pillow no bigger than an airplane napping one. He wadded them up and yanking Amy's head up from the bed, wedged them between and slammed her head back down, her chin nearly tickling her chest. Her eyes stared at the dimple of his navel, surrounded by forests of black hair. She looked up to see his face wreathed in a grin of cruel mockery.
Joe had been very good in bed, but this position they had never tried. "What ... what are you going to do?" she questioned, puzzled and frightened by his strange arrangement of bodies.
"For starters I think you're gonna suck a little cock," he said, smiling sadistically. "How would you like that?"
Oh dear God, no! Her mind screamed. Why couldn't he be satisfied with just using her body in the natural way ... or by sticking his fingers into her pussy, or sucking her breasts. She watched in terrified disbelief as he lifted a leg over her naked body and positioned himself with his buttocks above her breasts, his knees snug into her armpits, his throbbing, seeping cock dangling before her face.
"N-no, Butch, please," she whined, her lower lip quivering in terror, knowing already that to ask would only rile his contempt. "I-I can't ... I can't do that ... I've never ... "
"Hey, hey ... patients don't argue," he growled, snaking his long, blood-heavy cock before her eyes. A dribble of its pre-cum pealed from its tip, dropping a sticky puddle onto her cleavage. "Kiss my cock!"
Amy closed her eyes. The humiliation, the debasement ... oh, Lord, it couldn't go on. When she refused, rolling her head from side to side to avoid touching the heated flesh with her lips, Butch grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder, digging into her soft flesh until she cried out in pain. "Open your mouth, you fucking slut!" snarled he. To speed her response, he grabbed a handful of her strawberry hair that was slowly coming undone from its pug, and yanked until her eyes watered from the pain.
"Oow! You're ... hurting me!" she sobbed, whimpering.
"Open your fucking mouth and it won't hurt!"
Slowly, Amy parted her gloss-slick lips, trembling from fright and suppressed pain.
"Now, put your lips around the head of my cock," he bellowed, his dark eyes dancing. "And suck it!"
Fear and mortification came out in a moan, but Amy did as he directed, closing her succulent lips hesitantly around the blunt, shiny head of his rubbery staff. Joe had never forced into anything this disgusting or filthy, but to her surprise it didn't taste as bad as it looked and she could taste the bitter-sweet piquancy of a clear, sticky substance already oozing from the tiny opening at the end. Hmmmmm ... not that bad, and far better than being beaten. His knees tightened against her arm pits with that first tentative swath of the tongue and Amy was certain it had grown a full inch in those few seconds. Despite the horror of her bondage, she felt an unmistakable tremor of excitement at the spicy, pungent taste of the warm, male semen on her palate. Experimentally, she twirled her tongue over the thick purplish head and her efforts were rewarded by a deep moan of appreciation. That, Amy noticed, was the first positive word he'd used in her presence.
"Nice baby, now lick it," he breathed, panting slightly from the excitement of seeing his cock stuffed in the mouth of Nurse Hanson, the woman who drove every man on that ward damned near berserk with blue balls. Reluctantly, he pulled his heated maledom free of her lips and growled, "Lick it like a sucker. Lick it all over and keep your eyes open so you can see what you're doing!"
Amy stared mesmerically at the long-veined pole that rose like a stone monolith in the dark patch of his loins. It jerked in front of her nose, settling there like an annoying fly. "I said lick it!" He jerked it again, but Amy just stared. It was hard, so hard that the skin stretched tautly over its surface shone like a polished opal and the thick veins that covered it like a road map pulsed madly against the tightly drawn opaque skin. Below that, his two pendulous balls in their softly swaying sacs, swollen and heavy with the sperm that boiled within. Hesitantly, the nurse ran her tongue down its hot rubbery length, feeling the blood pulse against her tongue, daintily licking it all the way, swabbing the wet pinkness over its hairy base, then along its veined underside.
As she slaved over her chore Amy began to feel a strange perverse pleasure growing in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being used this way ... tied to a bed, being forced into performing fellatio on a convict. And it was appropriate ... it didn't debase her bittersweet memories of loving Joe. Deep in her smooth muscled belly, she could feel that churning, burning heat, coursing its way from the center of her womanhood to the tips of her puckered nipples. Amy sucked a little harder.
Above her, the convict trembled from the exquisite sensation of her wet tongue slaving over his cock that dangled and jabbed at her delicate features. As if he could read her thoughts, he moaned and growled. "Okay, baby ... enough of the licking shit. Now suck it!"
Her gray eyes flashed up at him, her feathery eyelashes fluttering over her cheekbones, the glint in them saying yes. Quickly, Amy trailed her pink tongue back over the rubbery shaft and obediently ovaled her soft lips and slipped them gently over the shiny, naked head. Butch groaned and flicked his strong hips forward, sliding the full ten inches of lust-engorged flesh into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth and down the full length of her velvety tongue until the tip banged brutally against the back of her throat. Panic flooded Amy's mind as she gagged, but comply she must. She sucked, simultaneously slipping her tongue up and down the erect hotness, nibbling softly at the base with her front teeth.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaggghhh!" her rapist gasped. "Oh, suck it baby, suck ittttt!" He threw back his head, his square lower jaw dropping in a moan of ecstasy. Yes, these nurses ...
Slowly, Butch began to rock his hips back and forth, fucking into her ovaled mouth as if it were a naked cunt. Obediently, Amy tried to suck on his purple veined penis, but she could barely catch her breath before he rammed it down her throat, grazing her tonsils again. Her reddened cheeks hollowed on each out-stroke, then bloated balloonishly when he rammed those slippery ten inches back in, almost choking her.
It was terrifying, being tied down and forced to do these nasty things, but shoving the pain of her straining arms out of her mind helped to ease the humiliation. She endured this torture minute by minute, never looking at the total picture of her helplessness for fear it might overwhelm her senses and then, no doubt, she would start screaming ... and he would have to strike her, silencing her. No, it was best she concentrate on this strangely fascinating cudgel drubbing into her mouth, saying hello to her tonsils with each ramming thrust into her throat. In a strange masochistic way it thrilled her to know she had no choice; she could not move her head. No choice in the matter, no guilt for her actions. She had to suck on this pulsating hunk of male meat or be beaten to a pulp. As if to prove her subservience to his mastery, Amy managed to raise her head enough to bob it up and down in a cooperative gesture while Butch slammed into her mouth demonically.
Butch Hotchkins was laughing inside. In minutes Josh and Ben should be joining him, and then, by God, they'd have one hell of a party! He glanced down, studying the ovaled, glossy lips stretching tightly around the thick base of his cock. He worked his jaws together, feeling the adrenaline shoot through his body to his cock, making it jerk inside her mouth. He could see tiny ridges of soft pink flesh as he pulled back from her gently sucking lips that disappeared back inside as he slid it forward again. A laugh gurgled in his throat as he watched his pubic hair brush against the sides of her mouth creating a little mustache there while his sperm heavy testicles battered against her dimpled chin.
God, she was good, he thought. What a sight with her delicate lips wrapped around his big, hard prick ... the sexy little touch-me-not blowing a child molester! His hips rolled in a controlled rhythm, as if on ball bearings, and he sawed away, back and forth, never quite drawing it all the way out ... leaving the nakedly seeping tip inside the warm moistness of her mouth ... then plumbing her throat on the hip flex. He saw her eyes water as she gagged on his virility. Good for the little bitch ...! He rammed harder and then ...
"Oh, shit!" Butch threw back his head, his abdominal muscles going stiff. "Oh suck it, bitch, suck harder!" screamed Butch locking his hands hard around the back of Amy's bobbing head, drawing it over his rigidity until only a quarter inch at the base protruded wet and glistening from her wildly sucking lips. He gnashed his teeth, determined to drown her as his balls erupted and her throat constricted and relaxed, swallowing in great gulps the hot, sticky cum he was spewing into her mouth.
The starched white nurses hat wilted into a crumpled nest of white atop her head where Butch's powerful hands gripped at her hair. Amy's pink cheeks were blood red as they expanded and hollowed as she gulped at the warm flooding gushes to keep from drowning. He didn't let go of his grasp until she sucked away every last wiggling little sperm. Finally, he grunted in satiation and his cock deflated in her mouth like a punctured balloon. The reddened, sticky worm withered in her mouth and fell lifelessly from her lips. Butch's six feet two inches of muscle bound flesh crumpled in total exhaustion beside the nervously quivering nurse on the cot. His hairy chest rose and fell with the labor of his breathing.
Through the rationalizations and plumped-up excuses, Amy wagged an accusing finger. Naughty girl ... what would Joe think of you now? Suddenly her gray eyes popped into saucers and her jaw dropped. Josh and Ben ... oh, God, they would come pounding at the door any second ... and then what! Her wrists ached dully from the tightness of the bonds that held her to the bed.
"Butch ... please ... I swear I won't report you ... but don't ... oh God, don't let Josh and Ben do this to me!" She turned her pathetically flushed face to him, her glossy lips turning down at the corners, quivering. A shiny thread of his sperm dribbled like spittle from one side.
Butch reached up and tweaked her cheek jovially. "Don't worry, sweetheart ... you got enough there for three men."
He chortled lewdly, cruelly, wiping her mouth clean. "For gosh sakes, honey, wipe your mouth after eating, we got guests comin'."
Amy withered inside. Virtue, like birds on wing, was heading home to roost.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Roger ... Roger ...?"
The sheets rustled in the dark and the sliver of moonlight stealing through the window ran a white stripe up Roger's checkered pajama back. He dismissed the intrusion on his dream, contentedly smacking his lips together as if tasting the essence of his dream ... until a bony finger prodded him in the back.
"Roger, please ... I can't sleep."
Dottie sat up in bed, her creamy bosom hidden behind a batiste nightgown spilled teasingly over the tight ribboned bodice. Roger rolled over, trained animal that he was, and stared up at his mistress with bewildered eyes, drawing a deep breath and letting it out in a long weary sigh.
"Now what?"
"I'm worried about Amy Hanson ... I had one of those dreams ... premonitions, I think you call them. Something's wrong. I'm going to call."
And for this you wake me up! he thought, but didn't say.
Dottie's lithe frame charged from the bed, her bare feet stomping toward the wall telephone in the hallway. Roger cocked a tired and glanced at the digital alarm. Wonderful ... three-thirty in the morning and Dottie's making social calls. He let loose with a heady yawn and plumped up his pillow with his fists, doubled it over and sank his balding head down into its feathery nest.
"Roger, how can you sleep at a time like this?" blasted Dottie, stampeding back into the room and throwing herself into bed. She yanked up the covers, pulling them free from the foot of the bed. "There's no answer at the ward."
"Probably in the ladies room combing her hair," cajoled Roger for the sake of a few hours sleep.
Dottie arched an eyebrow at her husband and her dour expression lightened into a smile. She patted his head solicitiously, as if he might have been her pet cat. "You're right, honey. Probably is." Linking her arm around his neck, she drew him to her bosom, his nose brushing against the hardness of her left nipple. Years back he would have ripped off her nightie and taken her on the spot. Now she had to ask him as a favor. "Maybe ... if we made love ... I could sleep ... and so could you," she said, undiplomatically grabbing his pudgy hand and guiding it to the furry nest between her slender thighs. It laid there, dead weight for a while, while Dottie squirmed to create friction. Finally, with the heel of his hand, Roger massaged the pouting mound of her pussy, feeling her nightgown dampen with her rousing excitement.
"Oh, Roger," purred Dottie, "Take me ... I have to have you now!"
Compliantly, he ripped off his pajama bottoms, conjured in his mind the Farrah Fawcett poster hanging in the men's John down at the docks and went about his task of being a husband, doing all the work while Dottie supervised.
Spent, he rolled over for a few more hours of sleep, love forgotten.
* * *
The sounds of a small commotion, whispered voices, darkened shadows cast on the white wall of the ladies room startled Amy out of her reticence. Mindlessly, she tried to rise from the bed, but the bonds that held her hands jerked her back down and she shuddered, the saline taste gritty on her lips. That pungent taste brought back memories of how it felt to lie helpless under the fury of a criminal's stone hard cock pounding in and out of her mouth.
She swallowed down the acid of shame, while little sweet bubbles of raw uninvited pleasure began to nibble again at her nerve-ends, peaking in her nipples and budding into full flower in her throbbing clitoris. Stop acting like a whore, she screamed at her mutinous body. What kind of an idiot are you, smiling when you're about to be eaten alive by three women-starved criminals who've been locked up in a loony bin for six months!
A black shadow became a reality and Amy's gasped aloud as Josh walked into the ladies room, a toothy grin on his shining black face.
"Mornin', lady," he tipped an imaginary hat then bowed deeply in a silent racial slur.
Amy could feel her body prickle with shame as she lay naked and unable to cover her lush creamy skin from the black man's gleaming eyes; but the tall, powerful-looking man just chuckled at her discomfort. "No ... no, don't bother to get and get a robe," he taunted, holding up his black paw, fingers spread in a halting gesture.
Amy glowered at him through hate-filled eyes. She was afraid her voice would crack from the fear that roared through her mind, but she would not submit again to this disgusting display of indecency they had planned. Her body might fall to shame but never, never her soul!
The black patient ambled up to the side of the bed and Amy clamped her eyes shut as she felt his calloused hands moving over her silken flesh, abrasing it. Elephant tears of self pity swelled through her shadowed lids and rolled silently down her red satin cheeks. How could she live through this? Her imagination ran amuck. What would they do to her? Oh, how could they defile the intimacy of lovemaking, making it some cheap, disgusting act!
Her breasts heaved with emotion. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, opening her eyes and staring directly at the tall dark man looming over her, the whites of his eyes and the starkness of his pearly teeth jumping out from his black face as if to devour her tooth and nail. "Get away from meeeee! I swear I'll have you in sheets!"
Josh laughed. "Ain' nobody out there gonna hear ya, lady," he tutted and shook his head maliciously, then winked over at Butch as if to say, 'don't worry about Satchmo ... ' Calmly, he began to remove his pajamas, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Amy stared back contemptuously, refusing to drop her gaze in defeat.
"You ever had nigger cock?" Josh asked cocking one dark eyebrow as he stepped out of his bottoms. "Chicks in my stable all tol' me weren' nothin' better than a big ol' nigger cock to fill their belly." He smiled, flickering his eyes over the nurse's stretched out sacrificial body.
"Don't you talk to me like that ... you ... you woman beater!" she spat. "Nigger pimp!"
"Don' go gettin' personal now, Miss Amy." He dropped his pajamas to the floor, his black nakedness glistening lecherously, and he placed his dry-skinned hand on one of her full naked thighs, soft as a baby's behind. Slowly it snaked upward to the soft, curling vee at the junction of her slender thighs. Amy lay trembling beneath his practiced touch in a temporary state of shock from the vile things he had said. Her teeth gnashed together, her breath short. Suddenly her body reacted and one leg drew back then struck out, narrowly missing his jaw, then pulled back for another groin gnashing aim. Before it hit its hairy target, his huge meaty fist was clenched around her ankle, pushing it back until her knee was bent and pressed tightly against her chest. Her other leg he pulled over until her foot hung over the edge of the bed and her pubic mound was open to his inspection.
"Don't touch me you filthy animal," snapped Amy, encouraged by the near success of her struggle.
"Bitch, you jus' won yours'f a whole lot less kindness," the black man growled. "Now you shuddup or I'm gonna fuck ya in the ass!"
Amy clenched her teeth tightly together, barely daring to breath. Her face locked in a determined expression of defiance pulling her delicate features taut and shiny.
"Fuckin' white whores all the same."
Amy grunted from the agony of the position he had wedged her into, but still not a word mumbled from her mouth. Even the fear that raged within her could overshadow the intense revulsion she felt for this man who had pandered women on the streets and beat them to a pulp afterwards. A loathsome, indespicable creature was he! Unlike them, she had to resist, even though her fate was imprinted on the hatred lining his face. At least she would have the consolation of knowing humiliation would be none of her own doing and that might help her to live with herself after this nightmare was ended!
"You ask'n for it, Miss Amy," he growled, angry and frustrated by her unexpected resistance. He slunk down onto the bed, his naked black cock shimmering and half erect, prodding against Amy's pure white ribs as he leaned over and untied one hand from its corner of the bed. Butch, now on his feet sat and watched as for one joyous moment Amy thought he was going to free her. But with cruel power Josh jerked her arm to the opposite side of her and re-tied it above her other wrist. She heard him snicker with sinister mirth as he withdrew a long black belt from his pajama pocket. As an afterthought, he grabbed Amy's discarded pantyhose, wadded them up and stuffed them in her mouth, making certain she wouldn't scream.
Amy could see the muscles rippling ominously beneath his gleaming black skin as he reached down and firmly grasped her full white hips, then suddenly he flipped her over onto her stomach, holding her in place with his calloused palm pressed into the small of her back like a twenty-pound weight. She cringed down into the mattress, small dog cowering before an angry master. Small pleading sounds leaked out around the pantyhose dripping from her mouth.
"Now, now, Miss Amy," she heard him murmur with a mirthless chuckle. "This is gonna be educational. I'm gonna show you what happens to a bitch when she gives her ol' man problems ... you know not turnin' in the money from some John she's trickin' on the side. Turns 'em into hot pokers ready to fuck every time."
The belt crackled in the air like summer lightning, the tip biting into the left cheek of Amy's buttocks with a sickening slap. She whined through the pantyhose gag and kicked her legs out in instinctive reaction.
"Now, baby, you gonna bed ol' Johs for a li'l nigger cock," she heard him taunt her.
Amy tried to speak, to consent, to beg him not to hit her again, but only a muffled mumbling came through. Again the belt sang through the air, this time catching her full between the open thighs. Again it traced a painful path of tiny red welts over her ivory skin. The leather tore into her flesh, eating at her skin. Even after it had stopped she lay trembling in fear for long terrifying moments until strong hands gently lifted her head and yanked the pantyhose out of her mouth.
"Now beg, Miss Amy," Josh said softly, his heavy dark lips parting to show off impossibly white teeth that looked sharp and mean enough to bite off a nipple and rip fingernails to the quick.
Amy opened her gray eyes only to stare into the cyclopic eye of Josh's shiny blue-black penis, hard, and throbbing with dirty lust. It was far bigger than Butch's ... like a tree stump with two fists beneath it. Amy shuddered at the sight of that weapon, but her spunk had withered with the raising of the welts still stinging on the backs of her thighs and buttocks. Like a horde of unseen insects eating away her flesh, they burned.
"Take me ... do anything ... but please, don't hit me anymore ... I ... I can't stand it ... please, please f-fuck me with ... your ... your nigger cock." She gave out one long, low whimper and her body went limp on the bed.
The Black pimp stood above her grinning broadly. If anything could bring him joy in life it would be breaking this white bitch's will ... reducing her to the whore that she was ... that every woman was. Punishing her more under the belt would only weaken her further, and he wanted a woman with some spunk. His eyes ran over her body in unbelieving delight as she lay unresisting before him, slim and generously curved at the buttocks and shoulders which flared out breathtakingly from her narrow, young waist. And her breasts ... Christ, her breasts! He was right, that Butch. It was all her.
Amy stretched unmoving across the mattress unable and not caring to stir her pain-wracked body. Any ideas about escaping from this room in one piece fled like a frightened deer. Postponing the inevitable rape was only prolonging the agony. She had demonstrated to them that they would have to take her by pure brute force, not by conquering her spirit. Of course they would settle for that ... they were rapists.
Her naked skin goose bumped then as Josh's hands moved over her shoulders and back, rubbing softly as if to massage her fear-born tension. "Okay, li'l Miss Amy," she heard him murmur. "Take a good long look at my black cock, 'cause in a minute it's gonna be buried deep up where nobody can see it."
Wearily, Amy raised her head and stared dry mouthed at the impossibly long black hunk of pulsating flesh. Gigantic and hard as coal from lust built up during her beating. Her blue eyes traced a slow path up his shining muscle rippling black body to his grinning face. Her eyes housed a final, futile plea for mercy, but found nothing but triumph and blazing lust in his countenance. He was a man who didn't like the word 'no.'
"Pretty, ain' it?" he tormented, wagging it in her face, its uncircumcised head adding to its grotesque enormity.
She tried to find the breath to speak, but nothing came out of her mouth but a hoarse little whimper.
"Ain' it?" he snarled, a sinister threat thinly veiled by the cold smile he still wore.
"It's ... it's beautiful," she said emphatically through fear and humiliation.
"Nice o' you to say so, hon," he drawled viciously. "'Cause this ol' nigger pimp is gonna fill you so full of nigger cum, you gonna have to swim to get around."
As Amy's head dropped back down on the bed, she heard laughter from behind her at Josh's obscene remark. Come on, Butch, she thought bitterly, come join the party.
"Hey, Josh," she heard Butch say. "Don't wear the lady out. She ain't gonna have no energy left after you finish with her."
"Naw ... just cleaned some of the fight outta her," the black man laughed. "She'll be twisting that ass around beggin' for a cock in a minute."
They were talking about her as though she were a dog being trained to do tricks, thought Amy. If only ... if only ... but she knew there was no use wishing. The moment of truth had come and she shivered coldly at the feeling of a body dropping to the bed arid rolling against the full length of her naked back. Her wide gray eyes opened to see someone's hand busy untying the knots from the bed springs. She wouldn't run now ... couldn't if she tried; her strength was drained. Her teeth chattered in a fearful chill as hands slowly and relentlessly forced her knees apart.
Amy fought with all her power to keep her slender thighs clamped together, but it was useless. Josh rolled her over and dropped his black shining body between her long, shapely limbs as they stretched wide across the mattress until her toes hung on either side of the rumpled blanket. A tiny, despairing moan escaped her swollen lips as she felt the rubbery hotness of an erect male organ pressuring into the soft flesh of her thigh, just below the sensitive slit of her vaginal opening. Oh God, when was the last time she'd felt anything other than her own fingers rummaging around in that furry playground between her legs? He wiggled forward like some giant black worm, wedging his blood heavy weapon along the soft, vulnerable crevice of her cringing buttocks. Amy writhed her hips to free her lower quarters, but her only reward was the sound of the black man's harsh breathing as her salacious wiggles incited his dirty lust.
"Get up on your knees, cunt," he rasped in her ear.
A black man ... is raping me ... Her mind flared at the disgusting thought. That stone-hard hunk of flesh was pressing into the bottom of her spine and he was going to take her from the back-like an animal! Hot streams of tears of anger and humiliation poured from her burning eyes as she thought of her velvety white skin rubbing against his coal black nakedness. Joe ... dear Joe forgive me!
Josh was not a man to take nonsense from women. Powerful hands gripped her hips, pulling them up from the cot, another hand firmly behind her neck to keep her breasts and face down in the mattress. Amy groaned helplessly as she envisioned the full moons of her buttocks waving obscenely in the air, offering up her moist, warm vaginal hole to the first taker. Loveless lust that's what this was, and she just a hunk of flesh with a place to put their disgusting penises-the other half of the machinery. It reeked of animal instincts.
Josh's face broke into a Cheshire cat grin as he eyed the perfect white ass waving in front of his face. For a few agonizing seconds he scraped his lubricant-seeping cockhead within the warm valley of her buttocks, grinding and squeezing the trembling flesh to form a hot, wet, tight pocket around his blood-red cock. Amy winced, closing her eyes, expecting to feel that first painful jab, but unexpectedly, Josh moved away. Gently, he slid his fingers down to the thin red swollen folds of flesh that lined her vagina, softly caressing the delicate neglected tissues. Under the expert stroking of his fingertips, he could feel a moisture forming on the soft insides of her silken thighs as, in response to the unexpected tenderness, she let her backside slip wider and wider apart.
The lessening of the pain, the unexpected gentility of Josh's touch and her own fatigue all robbed her of her will to resist. Despite the anguish, she felt a searing hot flame lick at her bowels. Pinpricks of glorious sensation danced madly under her skin, following the salacious course of Josh's teasing fingers, playing her magnificent young body like some kind of musical instrument. Yes, Josh knew how to treat a lady when he wanted to ...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben's stocking feet slipped along the polished linoleum, the legs of his drawstring pajama bottoms dragging under his heels. Making a beeline for the nurses' station, he paused hesitantly and scratched his curly head, squinting through sleep swollen eyes at the empty glass cage whose door stood wide open like some giant bird cage whose prisoner had flown the coop. He stood statuesque for a moment, listening to Satchmo's bird whistle snores, while ambivalence ricocheted in his own head. Involvement in the plot to get at Nurse Hanson's hot body was not his cup of tea, but curiosity was winning another point for the affirmative team. Celibacy was not for this one, and his hand was growing warts from pumping at his groin night after night!
He shrugged his shoulders, sloughing off indecision and sauntered on past the nurse's station, noticing a light peeking out through the ladies' room door on the far left side.
Ben's breath quickened as he walked toward that guiding beam, the female moans growing in his ears like Beethoven's Ninth finale. One foot in front of the other until finally he stood peering through the cracked door, one nervous hand pressing it wider still. What he saw made him rock on his heels. Being party to this smacked of trouble and he spun around ready to leave when his male instincts pounding in his swelling groin stopped him dead in his tracks.
When was the last time he'd seen a woman naked except in a smuggled playboy magazine whose pages were stuck together from too many hungry eyes and satiated gonads ... Hell I'm only human ...!
* * *
Nurse Hanson was spread eagle on her tummy, her firm white buttocks waving in the air like the flag of surrender, her strawberry curls unfurled from its tight old-maid pug, falling in pink tendrils around her neck and ears while her starched white nurse's cap, now crumbled up like a used dinner napkin, sat lopsided on her head. Jesus ... those legs. He couldn't see all of her (damn that Josh) because of the black male body hovering over her. Ben sucked in his breath when he eyed the swollen red welts cross-hatching her legs. Dear God, it was a massacre! Except for one blazing incongruity! She sounded as if she were enjoying it.
"Ohhhhhhhh, God, oooooohhhhhh," the uptight, arrogant red headed nurse who drove every man in Ward B out of his bloody mind was moaning joyfully as one thick black finger wormed itself into the burning folds of her throbbing vagina.
Amy's resistance was shattered to the bone now and she unconsciously pressed her hips back to get more of that delicious sensation carried by that invading finger. Above her, Josh grinned at the smooth cheeks of her ass grinding in hungry circles against his hand. Gleefully, he ran his middle finger all the way into the wet warmth of her cunt and smiled wider as Amy responded as if he were her long lost lover, screwing back on his hand and letting out a deep sigh of contentment. Her breath was coming in small, muffled gasps as he flicked his finger in and out of her wildly jerking pussy. Her cuntal hole sucked at his finger and her cries were one long moan as he suddenly withdrew his finger from the warm sucking channel and began polishing the hard marble of her throbbing clitoris. He flicked and rubbed it, watched her buttocks twitch and churn in eager response.
Amy's body was electrified with excitement; from her curled under toes to her throbbing nipples rubbing against the rough Army surplus blanket, she was one mass of goose bumped shimmering flesh! She could feel her cunt blossoming wider and wider until warm trickles of juices ran down the insides of her spread eagle legs. Josh, too, could sense her climax. Christ, you didn't have to be a pimp to know when a lady was about to cum! Nurse Hanson's luscious body twitched spasmodically, grinding against his finger. Yes, now was the time to fuck his black prick into her seeping pink pussy and get a little pleasure for himself! Selfishly, he wanted to share in the climax, wanted to feel her smooth muscles tightening around his hard cock as she sprung into her climax. He's show this smart ass white girl that nigger cock was better than anything she'd had stuck in her creamy little pussy ever. After ol' Josh rammed it to her, she wouldn't be satisfied with anything again. Straight chicks, working girls ... they were all the same. Took the same things to satisfy them.
All those years of fighting off sadistic Johns only to have his girls rip him off of money, then turn him over to the cops when he roughed them up a bit, came to a boiling head in a seething mixture of hatred and lust that boiled within him.
Swiftly, he moved up against her and began grinding his black hips into the wet and glistening hole between Amy's slender white thighs. His mammoth black cock tingled and ached with the frustration of six months without a woman.
* * *
Ben stepped into the room now, all eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. Dumbly, he stood next to Butch who sat slumped in a chair relishing every groan and slap of naked flesh against flesh. As if Ben had been there the whole while, Butch said to him offhandedly, "Watch this. He's gonna fuck her now."
"Holy Jesus!" Ben was bug-eyed. "He sure is!" The short stubby man swallowed dryly, never taking his eyes off the pornographic play enacted right there in real live flesh before him. "I ... sure would like ... a little of that myself," he choked out.
Josh was kneeling behind her, the fat swollen head of his prick pressing against the tight opening of her vagina. Amy felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the soft warm folds, parting them like the Red Sea and plunging inside with a gust of power.
"Ohhhhh ... oh ... ohhhhh ... " she gasped as the tender lips of her long neglected vagina gave way and he drilled into her belly inch by scalding inch. The sudden attack jolted her, clearing her misaimed mind of its mucky haze that had fogged her senses since the brutal belt beating. Now her body trembled in a new world of complete ecstasy. Her cuntal walls throbbed and burned from his stony hardness gorging inside her pussy that had tightened from want of use.
All too clear - the degrading reality of being trapped in a room with three criminally insane patients one of whom was drubbing into her vagina like there was no tomorrow ... while the other two sat gloating over her assault. Amy's sense of self worth wilted, giving way to a strange kind of masochistic pleasure that voided her of all responsibility. Unfamiliar thrills of wicked excitement coursed through her body as she understood that this brutal rape was her punishment for staining the memories of Joe by succumbing to Butch's advances last night. God help her, she'd wanted it then and she'd die for it now! To hell with memories! She undulated her buttocks lasciviously in circles in rhythm to the long, thick cock fucking into her from behind.
"Sheeitt, man," whooped Josh. "This little pussy's tighter than a goddamn whore's mouth. Hump, baby, hump!"
Biting her lip to hold back the tears of shame, Amy pressured back. To her shocked horror he lunged toward her again, slamming another inch of hard flesh into her cunt that already felt stuffed to bursting. He's not ... even ... all the way inside me yet! she thought in terror, clenching the muscles of her buttocks tightly together to keep his black stalk of steely flesh from scraping against her tender, spongy cervix. He was reaching places inside of her belly her fingers never had!
"Please, no more," she begged, chokingly. "It's too ... big!"
"Honey, you ain't even swallowed up half of it," Josh guffawed loudly. "Now, hump back baby, 'cause Ah'm gonna give you the ride of your life!" Her struggles fed his sadistic impulses, and he rammed forward in a pelvic smashing lunge, crashing into her with all his strength until the huge black rubbery head of his cock banged smack into her cervix and his balls slapped down against her throbbing clitoris as if to kiss it.
Dear Lord, it was monstrous! Like some big thick black snake!
Amy's buttocks were pulled so wide apart she feared they might rip the tender flesh. That huge black thing he had waved before her face was now sunk all the way to its black kinky haired base inside of her. Her gray eyes popped open wider as she felt someone's hand softly stroking the white firm globes of her quivering buttocks. Other hands kneaded and squeezed at her milky breasts, nipping at her rosebud nipples until they stood out like bumble bees on a flower petal. Within her belly the black blue-veined cock flexed like a clenching fist, stretching and slipping inside her ravished vagina as she gradually adjusted to its hideous girth.
"Good, huh, Miss Amy?" Butch's voice taunted. "You like nigger cock, huh?"
Before she could gather her wits in answer, another hand stroked over her spine, following the bony ridges down to the split of her ass where, without warning, a nubby finger dug deep into the confines of her tight, unused anus.
"Aaaaaggghhhhhhh ... " she groaned at the painful intrusion stinging her sensitive rectum, then forced herself to relax the muscles to ease the agony. It felt as if a hornet had stung her back there, but the pain passed quickly to be replaced by a new kind of pleasure that melded with the slippery, drubbing sensation of Josh's black penis thundering up into her wetly seeping vagina.
Kneeling behind her white goose bumped flesh, Josh fucked in and out with long wetly slapping strokes. A feeling of towering power rippled through him as he held her hips down in total subjugation to the black monolith storming into her. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep inside suck at his pistoning-cock, clamping onto it as he withdrew, relaxing as it plunged in.
Riding her like a male dog, that was Josh's favorite position. He stretched the quivering moons of her buttocks with his fingers, watching the pink folds of wet, red flesh clinging to his black penis. Higher up in the crevice of her hairless ass, Butch's finger ground and twisted deeper, circling and expanding her anal hole. Ben got in the act, too, burying his hands beneath her creamy white torso, squeezing brutally at her naked breasts, teasing and pulling on every inch of flesh, his breath coming in hard gasps as he thought of the pretty waitress down at truck stop and the long nights they spent in his truck cab fucking and sucking until the sun awoke. Every pelvic slamming lunge sent Amy slapping against Ben's heavy thighs.
Josh slammed and thundered, plundered and rammed, until Amy's breath came in one long continuous sigh, her reddened cheeks turned sideways so that she could breath. Her pretty face contorted in passion, cries of ecstasy hissing through her tightly clenched teeth. Oh Lard, it was wonderful!
Ben's face went tight. "Hey ... hey, Josh ...? I can't wait no longer," he pleaded. "I gotta get some or I'm gonna cum in my pants."
There was a blur of naked flesh rearranging itself and Amy felt the mattress dropping in front of her as Ben stationed himself there. Strong hands lifted her shoulders until she rested on her hands and knees and then something warm and spongy and salty tasting pressed against her dry lips. Amy's gray eyes flew open and she stared unblinkingly at the long hard cock brushing against her nose. It wasn't black and it wasn't as thick as Butch's. Her eyes lifted to stare into Ben's pudgy face, his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin.
"Suck," he said simply, grabbing his prick in one hand and aiming it straight for her lips.
Another hard lunge from behind drove her forward, her laxly parted lips slipping over the shiny naked head of Ben's cock in front of her.
Ben grunted and grasped both sides of her strawberry curled head between his palms, ramming forward into her gaping mouth like a beardless cunt. She could feel the rubbery bluntness of the rubbery knob sliding the length of her warm pink tongue, blurring her concentration on the huge penis fucking into her body from behind. Ben closed his eyes, his mouth gaping open as he rocked on his fat hips, sawing viciously into her face. Amy gagged as he rammed it halfway down her throat, disappearing into her ovaled lips almost up to its hairy stumped base.
The red headed nurse clenched her eyes against the horrible sight of the kinky black curls tickling her nose. Moisture filled her mouth, puffing her cheeks wide as he shoved forward, cramming the shaft deep in her throat, keeping pace with the cock fucking into her from behind.
Amy tried to distract herself but not fudge sundaes, shrimp louie ... nothing could make her forget this man's hairy testicles bouncing against her chin and the odor of male perspiration and sexual juices filling her nostrils. She struggled to breathe, catching small gasps of air on the out stroke. But it was getting to her, all these male cocks poking into her and a rising tide swelled deep within her belly. The helplessness of her position flashed through her clouded mind, slowly keening toward orgasm. Two wildly excited men using her tortured body as a sacrificial vessel to fill with their hot boiling sperm, and the image of her pinned down body being bounced back and forth between them, strangely excited her.
Amy grunted and swung her buttocks in tiny circles, teasing hotly at the black cudgel jack hammering into her cunt. She licked and sucked at the white pole rhythmically pumping into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing and filling with each thrust. God, she wanted them to cum to shoot their sperm into her womb and mouth so she could swallow it and feel it running hot and sticky down her thighs ... feel it running through her veins in great hot floods. "Mmmmmffff ... " she sucked and moaned and fucked and groaned back like a mad woman, feeling her own orgasm building like flooding tide waters.
A deep groan from behind her heralded the inflating cock that jerked once, twice and finally erupted in a geyser of scalding sperm deep within her cunt. Josh jerked convulsively forward, muttering things like hot bitch, cunt, cocksucker ... words that triggered her orgasm. Amy clamped her hands around Ben's throbbing penis and pumped at it with dear life while it pummelled into her mouth. Her body exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors like Fourth of July firecrackers. At the same time Ben crushed his hairy loins into her face, sinking his blood-heavy cock deep into her gasping throat. A soul searing groan shattered the air and Amy's mouth flooded with hot, thick liquid. She gulped to save herself, savoring the man's sweet, salty sperm. At that moment in time nothing existed but those two spewing pricks and her own quivering body. Small, liquid droplets ran from the corners of her mouth like milky spittle as Ben collapsed in front of her and his limp cock slithered like a white grub worm out of her mouth.
Her body a rubbery mass of moldable, exhausted flesh, Amy collapsed heavily on the scratchy wool blanket as Josh's cock slipped limply from her stretched pussy and gushes of cool air wafted into the unplugged opening. She lay panting in utter exhaustion as weary sighs of satiation slipped from her sperm encrusted lips. Above her Butch Hotchkins stood stroking his blood red cock, grinning.
"Oh, my God ... you can't ... mean ... " she begged, too weak to counterpoint his six feet two inches of solid virility. Suddenly Amy knew what it meant to be the weaker sex.
But Butch wasn't paying attention to her. Even as his tight fist pumped at his swelling penis, his head was cocked suspiciously to the side as though listening to something. Amy tried to still her own ragged breathing and listen too.
Hands didn't pin her down as she jerked up on the cot, her nurse's cap looking like a clump of whipped cream atop her strawberry curls, as she recognized the sound of heavy breathing in the doorway, right outside the ladies' room door. Oh, Lord, who could it be?
A moment later, Butch returned, dragging behind him a terrified, if not red-cheeked, intruder.
"Dottie!" gasped Amy, her tiny fist flying to her gaping mouth.
CHAPTER NINE
Roger's half-reluctant lovemaking had been no balm for Dottie's insomnia. After lying awake staring at the ceiling and listening to her husband's grunting snores, she slunk out of bed and into her robe and stationed herself at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee at her elbow while her fingers had played over the telephone dial. Ward B wouldn't answer. Every five minutes her fingers had retraced those same numbers and still no answer.
At last, tense and fidgety, she had pushed her chair back from the table and sauntered to the front door to fetch the morning paper. For several sleepy-eyed minutes she had sat staring at the printed pages, but mental distractions had cheated her of concentration just as Roger had cheated her out of an orgasm. The same menial images that had been plaguing her all evening kept returning to bother her lectures of that sweet Amy Hanson being beaten bloody or raped savagely by those despicable sex fiends kept flashing through her mind. Dottie had wrestled with her instincts for a few moments longer, then threw down the newspaper, stomped toward the bathroom and readied herself for work. To come in early would be a favor to Amy and if something was wrong they could sit and drink coffee together ... no harm done.
Half an hour later, with the sky turning baby pink, she had stormed to Ward B passing by the employees lounge where Satchmo sat slumped over in a drunken stupor and charged on to the nurses' station to find it empty. Her keen instincts warned her of misbehavior, and she checked the sleeping ward, finding Butch's, Ben's and Josh's beds empty. Something odd was going on somewhere; she could sense it. Then from the patient's lounge she had heard muffled, grunting sounds that smacked of intrigue. Her curiosity would drive her mad unless she found out for herself exactly what was going on back there in the Ladies' room.
* * *
Dottie's lithe willowy form vibrated nervously as she stared in fascinated horror at the trio who lay panting on the Ladies' Room cot. A second ago, she had witnessed them all involved in something she had never dreamed in her wildest erotic fantasies. There, all tangled up in a wild pornographic canvas of arms and legs and-oh, yes-male penises-was that sweet young widow, Amy Hanson, with two men using her mouth and vagina at the same time and another plunging his finger into her anus! Dottie's horror had lasted only until she realized with a shameful start, that the fantastic spectacle was arousing her violently. Roger's on-again-of-again lovemaking had done nothing to quell the storm up there between her legs.
Then, moving back into the darkness, she had lifted her white uniform and wormed her finger up under the elastic leg band of her panties to massage the growing nub of her clitoris, peering every few minutes around the doorway to make sure it was no figment of her love-starved imagination. Her finger had slithered up into that hungry hole in a brutal rhythm bringing her within a hair's breadth of her climax when Butch Hotchkins had discovered her.
Now she stood blushing in chagrined embarrassment before these three naked, insolent sex fiends and Amy Hanson. The crisp skirt of Dottie's uniform was still wrapped high around her full hips where she had pulled it up in the heat of her excitement.
"I'll be a sonofabitch! Look what I found outside the door." Dottie went red from her hair line to the neckline of her uniform. Lord, she sizzling with mortification! "Found her outside the door finger in' her cunt and grindin' them buttocks back and forth." Butch turned to the mortified woman. "Show us how ya were doin' that, Dottie ... pushin' that skinny finger up in yer pussy."
Dottie wanted to die.
"Wah, mah goodness," Josh drawled, propping his sweat-shiny body up on one elbow, shooting her a toothy Cheshire cat grin. "I do believe we're blessed with the day nurse come to join our li'l party. How sweet."
Dottie swallowed dryly and returned a crooked smile, not sure of what to say, not sure she even wanted to escape from what was obviously going on. Her body still raged with lust and for a second, almost envied Amy Hanson for lying there naked with all that male virility hunkering around her.
"Oh, God, Dottie ... I'm so sorry you got dragged into this mess," Amy moaned from where she lay sprawled on the cot. "These ... these men ... th-they're crazy ... they raped me ... "
"Oh shut up," growled Butch. "You weren't complainin' a minute ago and Nurse Tomkins here don't look like no male cock's gonna kill 'er."
Dottie shivered with secret excitement, Butch's awesomely masculinity and lewd words flustering her, making her blush right down to her toenails. Something told her that she should run, get out of there fast. These were no ordinary men off the streets-they were hardened rapists. Still, being face to face with no glass cage to separate her from them was alarmingly arousing. Her hungry blue eyes raked over their naked sweat shimmering muscles of their biceps, broad chests, then swooping down to include the intimate vee of their loins. Well hung all of them. Dottie gulped dryly, her pupils dilated. Dear God, why couldn't it have been her lying there naked and streaked with male sperm instead of Amy!
"Sheitttt! It's the sheet for sure now," moaned Ben, looking ready to cry.
Josh slapped him on the back cheering him up. "Come on, man ... who's the one been talkin' 'bout stuffin' his cock in ol' horse face's mouth, huh?"
"Yeah, that should get out cock's jumpin' again," Butch said eagerly. "Let's get Miss Tits here and Dottie together sucking each other off!"
The three men bellowed jubilantly while Dottie Tomkin's ears sizzled from the lewd insinuation, the happy anticipation fading from her face. Fearfully, she searched the three men's eyes for some sign of factiousness. There was none.
"Oh, no," she faltered. "I ... can't do ... I mean, I've never ... "
Dottie's eyes came last to Amy who met her gaze with quiet despair.
"You'd better do as they say," said Amy calmly, staring levelly into Dottie's bright eyes, her own gray ones smoked over with lust. "Their methods of persuasion are pretty painful." Her eyes roved over her naked body to emphasize the red welts cross-hatching her legs.
Dottie gulped and nodded, then sucked in her breath as her eyes fell on the pale red traces on Amy's creamy naked flesh. Slowly, as if she were in some kind of trance, Dottie reached behind her and worked at the zipper of her white uniform. Slipping the garment off her shoulders, she let it puddle to the floor, revealing her white lace garter belt, skimpy panties and a low cut brassiere. The men in the room gasped in appreciation. Nobody had guessed Dottie Tomkins was hiding beneath her baggy uniforms one of the hottest bodies this side of the French Quarter.
True ... Dottie's flesh was firm and smooth as a teenager. The bounteous swell of her large milky breasts all but overflowed the cups of her lace brassiere and her waist narrowed to a trim curve above her full, well proportioned hips and slender thighs. Even Amy gazed admiringly at the marble white flesh of the day nurse's body. Her husband Roger was a lucky man, indeed, but sadly ignorant of his blessing, according to Dottie's complaints about their love life. As for Amy, she had far to fall before she came down off the sexual peak these three men had abandoned her with. Unaccustomed to being in the presence of a naked woman, she became unexpectedly aroused at the sight of Dottie's delicious bumps and curves.
"Come here, Dottie," Amy whispered throatily. "Let me help you."
Dottie hesitated for a moment, looking from face to face and finding no solace, then sauntered over to stand beside the bed. Slowly Amy rose and stood shimmeringly naked beside the other woman, her wild gray eyes roving curiously over the full rounded well-molded body. The next few seconds passed in a haze and when Amy grabbed control of her senses it was to find her fingers fumbling with the clasp of Dottie's brassiere, gently pulling the garment away from her shivering shoulders. Amy dropped the brassiere to the floor to join the garment litter there and then reached out to tentatively touch the pale gleaming skin of Dottie's melonous breasts.
Those milky orbs jutted proudly from her chest like two ripe cantaloupes, their large brown nipples already puckered and kissable. As though in humble homage to their dramatic succulence, Amy's fingers traced a trembling path over the smooth swell of Dottie's breasts, circling and finally coming to rest on the sensitive tips. The young nurse felt a strangely tempting arousal at her unaccountable bravery and she stared boldly into Dottie's face to register the effect as she began to squeeze and pinch her nipples. To her delight, she watched Dottie's eyes close in ecstasy, as beneath her busy fingers the soft flesh contracted and hardened into tight little rosebuds under her soft womanly touch.
Her mind soared with joy at her power to control another woman's body; Amy slipped her hands down along Dottie's silken torso and began to tug gently at the garter belt.
"Oh ... no," breathed Dottie hoarsely, her eyes two burning coals of indecision and temptation. "Please, no, Amy ... oh God, what would Roger ... think?"
"Relax, Dottie," murmured Amy salaciously standing nakedly next to Dottie. "I won't hurt you ... believe me. Relax."
Dottie stared Amy in the eye and said in a hoarse whisper that evaded male ears. "I ... didn't know you were ... that way, Amy."
The small Ladies Room was sizzling with sexual energy, and steam nearly rose off the floor as the trio of naked men stood panting around the young strawberry haired nurse seducing the older day nurse. Butch stroked his blood engorged prick and moaned in frustration. To interrupt this unbelievable performance, however, would be unthinkable.
Amy's ragged breathing broke through the yellow stillness of the room as she slid Dottie's garter belt down over her rounded hips and slender thighs, then gently lifted one ankle then the other to remove the lacy garment. Faster now, her thumbs hooked in Dottie's panties and peeled them off too. A heavy sigh heaved from her chest as she crouched to the floor beside Dottie and wound her arms around the woman's slender legs, slowly running her soft palms, polished fingertips spread, up the insides of the woman's thighs. Above her, Dottie trembled and groaned in agony of conflicting emotions. She wanted a man, not a woman! Or so she thought ...
"P-please, dear, don't do ... anymore," she gasped. "I ... I can't stand it."
Amy answered with a smug grin and moved her soft hands upward until her fingers grazed the soft sparse hairs that framed Dottie's crying pussy. Something had happened to her tonight, she realized, something that snapped all memories and surpassed inhibition. She could not calm her body down. Every inch of her five foot four inch torso of flesh was ablaze with need, screaming for release. For some unfathomable reason, the sight and feel of Dottie's body was arousing her even more until she couldn't care less about the older woman's reticence and fear. Somehow the idea of forcing Dottie Tomkins, the unbendable day nurse, into becoming excited against her will aroused Amy to the peak. Rising from her squatting position, she gently nudged Dottie back against the cot until the backs of her knees touched the edge and she fell backwards.
Dottie's mind was a confused jumble of do's and dont's, indecision ricocheting around in her head dizzyingly. Her self-control was on the run. She knew she wasn't a lesbian for godsakes, yet this young nurse's touch was driving her mad and she almost admitted to herself that she'd like nothing more than to have this innocent faced young strawberry blond sucking and licking at her burning cuntal slit. Hesitantly and wild eyed, she allowed her body to be muscled down prone on the bed, then forced to roll over making room for Amy.
Dottie's eyes were riveted on the other woman's slightly twitching face, tight with passion. There was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and she apprehensively tightened her buttocks. Amy's gray eyes gleamed as she gently lay down herself, stretching her body against the older woman's. Dottie could feel the heat radiating from Amy's young body next to her own, thigh against thigh, smooth belly against hip, her breasts crushed against Dottie's rib cage with each of the hard pink nipples jabbing into her soft flesh.
Both women had blocked out the three men who stood panting around them, staring in fascination at the scene being enacted right there before them.
Slowly, Amy took Dottie's face in her hands. Dottie felt Amy's lips on her own, soft and warm at first. So gently was it done that Dottie wasn't aware of the exact moment that Amy's tongue floated into her mouth. The older woman was breathing in short gasps, excited by the idea of doing the absolute forbidden. A little smug smile crossed her lips at the image of Roger's response should he see his wife being compromised this way. Would serve the bastard right ... Her objecting conscience had all but flown the coop, being overruled by the thrills of delicious feeling down between her slender legs as her cuntal muscles did a dance ... expanding and contracting in delightful anticipation of this strawberry blonde's expert touch.
Dottie wasn't sure when her response had loosened up, or when she had begun to lick and suck greedily at the female tongue swirling around in her mouth. When Amy pulled it back, Dottie's tongue quickly followed it into the other woman's warm sucking cavern. Oh, it was delightful! She recalled how avidly Roger used to kiss her back then ... with the same passion that Amy exhibited now.
Amy slipped one silky leg over Dottie's firm upper thighs, rubbing her swollen clitoris over Dottie's hip bone. The dark haired nurse felt an electric shock course through her lissome body at the hot contact, shuddering as she realized that Amy's hand was moving up toward her pulsating breasts again, stroking and .massaging at Dottie's snow white skin with an exciting, spine tingling sensation that possessed her body and soul.
"Oo-oo-oh-hh," Dottie moaned in sheer delight as Amy's lips left her own and began a downward path of kisses, nibbling her way down to the breasts she kneaded and squeezed in her grasp. Amy's delicate hands had become suddenly aggressive, locking and squeezing on both melonous mounds, pushing them high up on Dottie's chest to ease the access to Dottie's throbbing nipples which she sucked and milked like a starving baby.
Dottie's body broke out into a fleshy canvas of goose bumps and she trembled with passion. She closed her eyes, feeling Amy's fingers play over her naked flesh so softly, so gently, so thrillingly womanly! She sucked in her breath, her stomach going even flatter, as she felt Amy's fingers reach down to tangle in the soft dark pubic curls. A moment later, Amy's long middle finger began carefully sliding up and down the damp fuzzy crevice between Dottie's thighs, maddeningly avoiding all contact with the distended clitoris, even though Dottie was helplessly grinding her hips into the army blanket, her face a mask of frustrated desire.
A strangely exciting idea popped into Amy's lust inflamed brain as she felt the narrow crack becoming more and more wet and oily with lubricants from the overflow of Dottie's cuntal juices. Why not let Dottie experience this same oddly sensual pleasure that she had felt for the first time this morning, thought Amy eagerly? These men could rape them silly, but never, never could they intercede and ruin the joy they had known together. By gaining control over Dottie's body she was, in some strange way, wriggling free of her rapist's control over her. Had some of their sadistic lessons rubbed off on her, changing her from the whimpering victim to the aggressor? Oh, there wasn't time to psychoanalyze now! Deftly, Amy's finger slid further and further back in the damp crevice until it reached the tiny elastic anal ring. Here it began a throbbing pressure to break into that tight opening.
Dottie's eyes popped wide. What was Amy trying to do to her? Instinctively, she raised her hips to get away from the uncomfortable pressure, but the slender finger was moistened and slippery enough to pop inside that hot twitching cavity.
In answer to that complaint, Amy sank her teeth into the tender flesh of the day nurse's swollen breast, trying to cram the whole thing into her sucking mouth. The pain, she knew, would fade quickly and become an exquisite pleasure. Amy began to move her finger in and out of the tiny quivering rectum, trying to gain more depth, but she could not get it any deeper than the first joint. The puckered ring had so tightly clenched on Amy's knuckle that its pink elastic flesh moved as one with her finger.
Dottie moaned from deep in her chest. The painful sensation had changed into something else-something undescribably fantastically exciting! Suddenly, she began to move the muscles of her naked buttocks in a frantic effort to pull the invading finger in further. Oh, she wanted it now!
She flexed and squirmed, writhed and twisted, her vagina frothing with lust. Her body worked toward that badly needed orgasm ... but she wanted more of that finger fucking in and out of her anal passage ... wanted something hard shoved into her cunt ... something big and hard!
CHAPTER TEN
Satchmo suffered silently, pulling himself off the lounge sofa and staggering shakily to his feet, his head pounding as if a fifty pound weight were banging against his throbbing temples. One black hand skimmed through the white wool of his hair and he shook his head gently, trying to shake off the headache as if it were a swarm of annoying mosquitoes. Ahhhh ... too much whiskey!
The yellow overhead light had dimmed, mingling with the pink morning light striping through the lounge windows. Knees bent, he shuffled along out into the patients' lounge where he glanced about perfunctorily as would a confused child lost from home. Everything he looked at had a twin, out of focus though it was. Food-he needed food, something to sop up the whiskey.
His round shouldered body ambled past the nurses' station where out of habit more than caution, he paused, craning his neck to peer within. His bloodshot eyes laughed as he stared into that empty cage. No Nurse Hanson, no Nurse Tomkins ...? His shoulders hunched in a shrug and he continued on, passing by the Ladies' Room one door this side of the refreshment room.
Not one to pass by an open door without peering in-especially when it promised women-he peered inside, his eyes flying open like trap doors and his ears buzzing ... but not with whiskey.
Naw ... He drew back and shook his head. "T'ain't possible," he muttered to himself in awed disbelief. Too much whiskey rottin' m' brain ... hallucinations, that's what it was. Satchmo chuckle softly to himself. Too bad it ain' for real ... For a minute there he could have sworn that was Nurse Hanson laying naked on the sick cot in there with Nurse Tomkins all cuddled up and moaning beside her. Day dreams ... whiskey day dreams. Ahhh ... senility. The night guard headed for the refrigerator, his step spiced gingerly, his head pounding less rebelliously.
* * *
While Satchmo munched on somebody's day old taco, somebody next door was brutally pulling Amy away from Nurse Tomkins frantically churning buttocks. Both women whimpered with frustration as they were pulled apart, like two mating dogs. Poor Dottie had been so close, so damned close ... but, then, Dottie looked up, her eyes crying, pleading, for more of Amy's soft touches.
Before her stood Butch Hotchkins grinning that wicked crooked smile that always haunted her, and oh God, he was massaging the biggest penis she had ever set eyes on! Beside her, Dottie winced as the bed squeaked and Butch climbed between Amy's widespread legs, guiding his cock straight for the hairy target of her seeping pussy.
"Didn't know ya had it in, ya, Miss Dottie," he taunted. "Thought you was all dried up and called it quits years ago."
"Oh, shuddup!" snapped Dottie, her blue eyes rolling in her head, as she reached back and tore loose her pug, letting her long dark hair spill over her naked shoulders, one swooping curl encircling the puckered nipple of her right breast. Her red tongue peeked through her pouty lips, wetting them, her slender legs automatically spreading eagle. "Come on you creeps ... you professional rapists, you men ... come on and fuck me!"
The young patient looked at Dottie, down at Amy and back at Dottie. "You asked for it, cunt!" Grasping Dottie's hips, he jerked her toward him until her buttocks hung slightly over the edge of the mattress and her magnificent legs were splayed on either side of his panting form. Grabbing his blood-fed cock, he aimed straight for that gaping hole and lunged forward in a violent thrust that nearly slammed Dottie flat against the wall.
The huge ten-inch prick drove in hard until the two sperm-filled balls slapped hard down against the sensitive ring of Dottie's swollen, puckery rectum.
"Aaaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeee ... " she cooed in ecstasy, throwing back her head, her long lustrous hair veiling her head. The hard, swollen lips of her vagina clung needfully to the cock as it slowly withdrew and she screwed her ass down into the mattress. Then the thrusts-the fiery entry that brought her body to blazing life-pushed the soft fleshy folds back into her. The glistening cock, like a never-ending oil drill, disappeared into the warm dark depths of her welcoming cuntal hole. Oh God, it was heaven!
For a fleeting moment, Dottie thought of her husband feeling a brief spasm of guilt, but then Butch again thrust deep into her and the centers of her reason and sanity shorted out in a shower of delicious sparks. God bless virility!
The bed jiggled wildly from the action of Amy being pulled off the cot head first by Ben who threw her down on her back and started fucking into her. Dottie's eyes went pale with lust ... oh, these beautiful hunks of men who knew how to treat a woman ... none of that namby pamby rolling over for a couple of thrusts and cumming. These men could use a cock! Dottie's eyes fastened on Josh, his black rippling chest muscles wet with sweat, his large nostrils flaring while he pumped away at his black, blue-veined cock that grew another incredible inch with each stroke. A nasty and delicious idea struck Her and she grasped at her billowing breasts, her body rocked to and fro with Butch's heaving thrusts. She mashed her breasts together invitingly and winked up at Josh. His black eyes lit up as he caught her thought, his thick dark lips breaking into a salacious grin.
Butch stopped his rhythmic fucking for a moment as Josh climbed over Dottie's body until he was kneeling over her chest, his beautiful black cock seeping dribbles of lubricants down into the white mountains of her breasts. Lubricating his bone-hard ebony cock with a drop of spittle, he wedged the massive hunk of flesh between her pair of tightly pressed breasts and found the narrow, warm tunnel between them. The two men using Dottie's body began stroking again, this time in unison.
Dottie looked down and sighed in ecstatic contentment as she watched the blue-black shining head of Josh's cock peeking through the creamy valley of her cleavage at the same time the young Butch's prick battered excitingly against her tingling cervix.
"Come on, you nigger pimp ... " she moaned through clenched teeth. "Harder!" As the black cock head slipped between her breasts, she raised her head and stuck her long pink tongue out, giving Josh's seeping cock a kittenish lick with each stroke. The reward worked.
Her wild eyes fell on Butch then, goring into his masculinego. "Come on," she goaded. "Come on, you child molester ... you pussy ... fuck me. Show me what you can do with that big beautiful cock of yours!"
The suggestion was well taken. The bed quivered and shook as if a 5.8 earthquake had rattled the room as they drove their cocks into the day nurse's crying pussy. She egged them on, using the dirtiest words she could think of.
Down on the floor Amy's legs were pushed higher and higher until her ankles were pressed over her quivering shoulders. Dottie, too, was in a position where she could not do much but take what the two men thrust into her body. Both women screamed and moaned in chilling organ-like tones, the sound of naked flesh slapping against naked flesh reverberating off the walls. The room reeked of sexual heat.
Between thrusts Amy managed to raise her head to see Josh riding Dottie's rib cage, his huge black prick sliding in and out of the deep creamy furrow between her breasts that the nurse held so tightly together that bloodless ridges of flesh bulged between her pressing fingers. In automatic rhythm with Josh's lunging strokes, Butch was thrusting his own visibly growing cock in and out of the hungrily sucking hole between Dottie's legs.
"Come on ... you ... bas-bastards!" Dottie screamed as her body began to twitch and hump against them. "I'm cum ... oh dear Jesus, I'm cummmmmmm-mmmming!"
The two men began driving with maddened fury and the sound of their three damp bodies slapping against each other was loud and wet. Dottie's back arched from the cot and she savagely used her heels as spurs to drive Butch even further inside her cunt. The young man gave one mighty lunge and his buttocks began twitching as he spurt out his climax at the same time. His square jaw set determinedly and trickles of sweat popped out on his forehead. Suddenly, all three were groaning out their pleasure and release as the cum spurted from the open cunt between Dottie's legs and spattered on to her face and chin from the cock that was fucking between her tits.
Down on the floor Amy's hot breath hissed through clenched teeth. To hell with fantasies, she thought, the real thing is the here and now ... and Ben's cock was very here and now ... but somehow it didn't quite fill the bill. Her steaming gray eyes looked pleadingly toward the two men lifting themselves off of Dottie Tomkins' spent body.
Butch, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, stood grinning smugly down at the redheaded nurse, a strange stirring churning in his groin. The little bitch was getting her just desserts at last ... Ben was fucking her with pelvic smashing jolts. Good, but not good enough. His eyes locked on her silently pleading ones, and he had only to recall how she'd humiliated him, spit in his face and called him names to know what the best punishment would be. Below, his rapidly growing penis came to throbbing life again. He walked over to her, remarking, "Well, Miss Amy ... you gettin' enough cock to fill that hungry belly, or would you like another juicy hunk a meat to jab at your guts?"
Amy mewled pathetically, weakly reaching up and clenching her fist, beckoning to him. Dear Joe, forgive me ... but I need itttttttttt!
"Flip her over, Ben." Butch's dark eyes never left Amy's smoky ones, a silent communication of need sparking between them. "Get her on her belly so I can fuck her in the ass."
Amy's mouth flew open at his vile urging of Ben. "N-No! God, no! Not that ... D-Don't do that!"
Instantly Ben grasped his friends' meaning, and grabbing her around her slender waist, he flipped her over on her stomach, then yanked her hips up until she was kneeling before him doggy fashion. Never once did his ramming cock slip from the smooth, wet hole between her legs. He held her there, imprisoned, fucking up into her pussy, his beer belly jiggling with each teeth shattering thrust.
Putting his words into action, Butch reached out to the trembling white moons of her buttocks and with strong fingered hands pried her clenching buttock cheeks apart. The crevice was creamy with seeping cum from every gonad in that room and, as he held them widespread, he dipped the swollen head of his throbbing penis into the hot slippery moisture accumulated there. The soft skin and the sparse hairs lining her buttocks furrow tickled his cock to steely erection and with a grunt, he aimed it straight and true at the puckered opening of her tight, elastic anus. His wildly pulsating cock head touched the defenseless little anal orifice, and he pushed hard using all the strength of his muscle bound legs and back.
"Aaaaaaaaaggghhh ... you're hurting me!" she cried out, screaming her agony for the first time that night. "Stop ... please, Butch!"
Butch grunted with the effort as he felt the elastic opening give a little. "Tighter than hell back there."
"Stop ... please ... you'll split me apart! Oh God, stop!" Amy cried out from the depth of her soul, wiggling to try to extricate herself from Ben's iron grip. She wiggled and squirmed dislodging his cock and managing to lift herself to her knees.
She didn't see it coming, but feel it she did. Ben's hand slapped hard across her face, reddening her cheek, stinging her tender flesh. Amy wailed in pain, cursing them, hating herself for thinking she could master these sex fiends. She collapsed to her knees, succumbing to the torture yet to come.
"Push that ass back against me. PUSH, GODDAMN YOU!" His hand came down in a stinging slap against her nakedly sensitive buttocks, and Ben grinned at her sharp scream of protest, her pretty face all scrunched up with pain and mortification.
Nothing could stop them now and Amy was forced to help the sadistic beast behind her to plunge his thick sodomizing cock into her tightly tensed rear passage. She tried to relax and push back against him, but gained only a searing pain for her trouble. "Ooooooooooouuuuuugggghhhh!" she shrieked. "It hurts!"
Josh flew to his knees in front of Amy. "Sounds like the cunt needs somethin' to chew on to keep her mouth shut." His black paw pumped once, then twice at his hardening cock and then gripping her head between his steely hands, he twisted her head to the side and, using his thumbs, wedged open her mouth and pulled her head down until her soft lips closed over his ebony prick. "That oughta shut 'er up," he beamed sadistically.
Behind Amy, sweat popped out on Butch's brow. Her tightly clenched anus was locked like a vise around his painfully pulsating cock; her sphincter ring felt as though it was inexorably getting tighter and tighter, squeezing him out. With one buttock flattening surge he rammed against her and the throbbing tip of his cock was in far enough to be swallowed up in the smoothly heated sponginess of her rectum, the muscle ring of her defenselessly puckered opening squeezing all around the first few inches of his lust thickened shaft. Ass fucking ... christ, he loved it! He rammed forward another inch, banging Amy's lithe body against Ben beneath her forcing Josh's black prick an inch deeper down her throat.
The horror of her situation sank into Amy's dizzy brain like a hundred pound weight in sinking sand. "Mmmmmmmmmffff ... ohhhhh ...!" she cried around Josh's cock. Her backside felt as if a giant band aid were being ripped away from her raw flesh.
Butch gripped her nakedly bucking hips and pulled her roughly back against his hairy loins, while at the same time he drove forward. Inch by excruciating inch his wildly pulsating cock dove into her tightly tensed rectum until finally almost all of its bloated length was buried deep inside her buttery depths. Gloatingly, he looked down to see the cruelly stretched little anus clenching and unclenching around the awesome girth of his cock. It's in ... Goddamn, it's in! he rejoiced silently. Bitch deserves it ... His square jaw set determinedly, he stopped pushing then, knowing that her virginal rectum would have to adjust to his massive thickness, but he couldn't stop the involuntary twitching of his cock. Each time it spasmed it brought another moan from her pain-contorted lips wrapped around Josh's stone hard black cock. Cunt fucking was nothing like ass fucking, mused Butch, wondering if there was a man alive would could last five minutes with his cock buried in a woman's asshole. He didn't think so ...
When that hotly throbbing head had first slipped through into the tightly constricted hole of her rectum, Amy was sure she was being split apart, sliced clean like a hunk of salami. But now that Butch's steely cock was buried so deeply in her hideously stretched backside, the pain started a gradual change from a red mist of agony to a highly erotic sensation that went charging pell-mell through her entrapped body. Again, she moaned. Dear Joe, you would hate me ... but it's getting tome ... that hot prick buried in my asshole is getting to me, baby! Yes, she wanted him to use her rectum just as her cunt and mouth were being abused.
Churning, her hips began to buck against Butch's hairy groin, and she found herself mumbling incoherent obscenities that came out a mumbled "mmmfff" around Josh's plunging cock. Down below Ben slaved away, thundering into her seeping pussy, matching Butch stroke for stroke, ricocheting her body around between them like a weightless balloon. Both long virile penises moved in her with a wildness that knew no equal, and she matched that insanity by bucking her hips upward against Ben to absorb all of his deep lunging cock into her gratefully quivering pussy, then fucked downward against Butch to feel his bloated cock move deep in the hot buttery tightness of her anal hole. It was all so heady ... so ridden with erotically delicious sensations and smells that her senses began to desert her one by one, eyes lidded with rapture and ears buzzing and unhearing, but leaving her to feel it all ... the only important sense upon which she could concentrate, the coursing, electric sensations of sensual sexuality as she was fucked in the anus, fucked in the cunt, and fucked in the mouth ... fucked into sweet oblivion!
On the mattress, deserted now except for her own fingers, Dottie Tomkins pressed her three middle fingers together and plundered them into her juicy cunt, her eyes riveted on the beautiful fucking Amy Hanson was lucky enough to get from these bastard rapists. Oh, she watched their rippling muscles, their bloated cocks moving in unison ... oh never, never would she give up her job here. Now and then she pulled Tier sucking fingers free of her cunt, lifting them to her nose to smell the mingled juices of these virile men that had mingled with her own orgasmic milk. Her thumb flicked over her clitoris, polishing it, reddening it to an inflamed match head of sensation.
The four figures on the floor-three men fucking one woman-drove her closer to orgasm. The strawberry blonde curls of Amy Hanson stood out in a mist of sweat shimmering flesh, her tight little anus filled with long thick cock, while below her Ben was slamming his stubby cock into her wetly sucking cunt. Lord, it was a beautiful sight! Amy was screaming around Josh's thundering black cock, filling her mouth and stretching her lips cruelly. The room rattled with snorts and grunts as Amy was buffeted between the three of them, every one of the men claiming a hole for himself and doing his damndest to fill it. The redheaded nurse felt as though she were a volcano ready to blow its top. Soaring, she rose to meet her orgasm as she convulsed. "Mm-mm-fff ... cum-mm-mmm-fff-in-ng-gg ... " she bellowed around Josh's slick black cock plugging her rose lips. Never ... no, sorry Joe ... but not even with you ... had she climaxed so intensely and violently. Her naked young body shivered with delight as thrills of orgasmic pleasure shimmered like deep throated organ notes through her. She felt as though her inside had turned to pudding and her eyes dimmed and blood pounded in her ears like raging surf.
Hissing sounds like a snake ready to strike spat through Butch's clenched teeth as he threw his head back and pounded furiously into Amy's rectum. His square jaw fell slack as he felt his gonads bloat, ache and then explode while he spewed his thick hot semen far up into her hotly quivering bowels. His cum surged through him like molten lava. "Fuck 'yer ass ... suck my balls ... " he rasped. On and on his lust thickened cock pumped, even though he didn't move a muscle, not stroking at all, just kneeling back there feeling her rectal muscles milking him of all strength, feeling Ben's cock through the thin membrane separating cunt and rectum as the other man's hammering cock fucked in and out.
Amy's lips were stretched to bursting, and her feathery eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings over her reddened cheeks, her nurses cap scrunched but still atop her strawberry curls. Her lower jaw worked assiduously, milking Josh's rubbery cock, flicking her pink tongue tip into the seeping slit at the end. Josh gave out one yelp, sucked in his breath and rammed his shaft half way down Amy's scraped esophagus. Suddenly her cheeks were full of it ... scalding, pungent tasting sperm, swabbing her mouth like sticky mouthwash. Her cheeks pumped and she sputtered, trying to swallow it all, but rivulets wormed down her chin, dribbling onto Ben below.
He'd watched it all from down there, and like a child grabbing for its mother's milk, he grabbed her swollen breasts and lifted his head to cram both of her puckered nipples into his mouth. His groin went wild, heavy with sperm. "Bonnie ... Bonnie ... " he muttered, his mind reeling back to warm nights in his semi-truck with that sweetheart who'd sent him here. "Aa-ah-hhh ... gaw-dd-dd!" he bellowed as with a slamming jolt he sunk his cock into Amy's pussy, right down to the hairy base, and filled her full of his creamy juices.
The Ladies Room of Ward B steamed with the musky smell of lust, wet and sticky and hellishly gratifying. After a few minutes, Butch stirred and climbed off of Amy, pulling his softened penis free of her rectum with an obscene hissing sound that in any other circumstances would have made her blush. Josh was laying on his back, panting, his body mirrored with shimmering sweat. Amy was the next to move, wriggling herself off of Ben whose deflated penis had already wormed itself out of her spating womb.
Dottie, too, lifeless from her self-induced orgasm, lay panting on the mussed up cot, one leg draped over the edge, her toe tickling against somebody's hairy groin. Her lust-lidded eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, seeing nothing, even the hideously bright light no vision now. Her stiff demeanor, starched as her nurse's hat, was crumpled and wilted into a softer, more comfortably pleasing disposition after that earth thundering explosion bursting years of pent-up frustration that had aged her well beyond her years. But not beyond my body ... she smirked slyly to herself, pleased with her performance. Her mind started clicking. Roger was a good old shoe, really; maybe things could be patched up between them.
Gradually the storm within them quelled ... temporarily. The five cum streaked bodies lay scattered about the room amidst puddles of uniforms, nylon stockings and pajamas. Wafts of musky steam billowed from the floor, so it seemed, that rich odor that prolongs love's orgasm when the body is too spent to roust itself for one more try.
Amy suffered the pain of sitting up, her curly hair a mass of Medusa curls, matted thick with love juices. Her nurse's cap hung from a strawberry strand like a wilted, fallen bow. Unavoidably, her eyes locked on Dottie's, the embarrassment flickering for a useless moment, then spreading into a reassuring smile. Shyness between them would be silly at this point ... wouldn't it?
On her hands and knees, Amy rummaged around on the floor for her clothes. No love party this ... she'd been raped, pure and simple and staying there in that flesh congested room was hardly romantic. She had to get out of there now, before somebody got body hungry again. One bruised swollen ankle wiggled through her hopelessly shredded pantyhose.
"Oh heaven help us!" wailed Dottie, gawking at her wrist watch, her face scrunched up in horror. "It's ... seven thirty!" she gulped, scrambling around for her clothes. "Now what?" She stared blankly at Amy who couldn't offer an answer. A fine mess they were in now ...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thanksgiving weekend is notoriously bitterly cold in Chicago with winds whipping off the lake in teeth-chattering gusts and blankets of powdery snow carpeting the brown grass in grim promise of more to come.
Amy Hanson pulled up the collar of her beige cashmere coat, her hands thrust warmly into the deep pockets, her black over-the-knee boots crunching like a mouthful of peanuts over the snow. But bus stop was a short block away.
Her frost-nipped fingertips reached up to swipe at the hot trickle streaming down her cheeks. Behind her the awesome dark brick of Washington Memorial Hospital devoured her shadow. That old building, like some powerful maternal force had absorbed her share of anguished cries and hushed fears, sympathetically sponging up the bile of man's physical and mental frailties, blackening herself, though she stood stolid and ageless still. To the right the newer, lighter brick marked the recently dedicated Rehabilitation Ward, an experiment in prison reform. A naughty curl, happy to be free, swept over her eyebrows. Amy brushed it back. Wearing her hair long and flowing was a nuisance, but not forbidden. As of an hour ago Amy had turned in her cap.
Those men ... Butch and Ben and Josh hadn't suffered any permanent consequences. Denied television privileges was precious little punishment for their cold-blooded calculated attack that never reached the ears of hospital administrators. Satchmo, black as the building he worked in, accepted the blame for letting his patients slip undetected from bed in the middle of the night. Negligence, the hospital administration called it. In retribution, the old alcoholic would be committed for two weeks to dry out.
Scary, really, being free of that dingy hole. One knew what to expect from socially maladjusted men ... sexual taunts, physical abuse. Strangely enough, it had been oddly gratifying expecting the worst from these sadistic men and receiving it- more gratifying, really, than hanging out in singles bars expecting to find another Joe and going home lonely and frustrated to sleep with her cat. Enough of this depression. Time to get out, kick up her heels and flaunt that sexuality! That remained intact; Joe couldn't take that to the grave.
Funny, she thought, sitting down on the bus stop bench, fidgeting in her coat pocket for a quarter. Who's rehabilitating who back there? Bitterness had no part in her emotions even after that brutal rape. Those despicable men had possessed her body, shamed it, darned near tore it to shreds ... but her spirit remained untainted. Odd ... Amy shivered, hunkering against the cold. Maybe those psycho movies aren't just junk ... maybe those sex starved idiots back there really exorcised me of Joe's memory-that untractable bondage that held her tied to dead memories too sweet for reality and too embittered with age.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Roger ... honey?" Dottie ran a hairbrush through her long lustrous locks, studying her image from the vanity stool stationed in front of her dresser. The sound of tinkling change and keys clunking on the night table made her spin around to see Roger slip out of his pants, his short hairy legs looking comically grossly disproportionate to the wide girth of his boxer short legs.
Their eyes met for a second before Roger hastily averted his glance. Dottie wasn't quite Dottie these days ... she wasn't even twenty year old Dorothy Mildred Adderson, the bouncy breasted aggressive girl he'd married back then. This stranger who hadn't slurred a single disparaging remark in his face for forty-eight hours was curiously eyeing him now. The bald man's round blue eyes sparked in her direction, then retreated, filling in the silent pace with the sigh of clothes being peeled from his body.
"Roger ... don't put those on," she purred.
"Wh-what?" Roger straightened, ready for the bite. "I always wear pajamas." His voice cracked shrilly with belligerence.
Dottie slammed down the hair brush, her black negligee gaping shamelessly at the neck, letting the milky mounds of her succulent breasts (still bearing the reddened welts of Josh's abrasive lovemaking) spill over the see-through fabric. As she slung her hips, he could see the tip of one puffy nipple winking up at him. Roger gulped. Something diabolically bewitching about this woman replaced the dry, brittle brusqueness ... something he couldn't face naked. He reached for his pajamas, glaring at her out of the corner of his eyes. And she was wearing make-up. Lots of it! ... gopped around her eyes darkening them into sloe slits.
Her hand slashed out to pluck his wadded up pajamas from his fist, held them out from an outstretched arm and dropped them to the floor. "From now on, lover ... you won't need those."
Roger blinked and rubbed his eyes, staring slack jawed as his wife wriggled one creamy shoulder until the loosely hanging spaghetti strap slithered off her nakedly, taking with it the dark patch hiding her bosom. In some corny calendar pose, she wriggled free of the other strap until the bodice slunk down unveiling her shapely body like a plaster figure shedding its plastic mold.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Roger cowered, thinking, 'Don't taunt my masculinity, Dorothy ... or so help me God!'
"Our sex life has been lacking spice, wouldn't you say, Roger?" She pooched out her rouged lips.
Roger nodded dumbly, his eyes hadn't blinked since this strange vixen stood naked in front of him. The white moons of her buttocks bounced provocatively as she spun on her heel and sacheted to the vanity, her breasts hanging like two succulently ripened fruits, and drew open the lower vanity drawer.
"What the hell is that? For heaven's sake, Dottie, what are you doing!"
Assiduously she went to work, straightening out the clothes line rope. Free of knots, then, she tossed it to her husband, lopping it around his neck. Demurely, she sat down on the chair, knees pressed together, hands clasped behind her back.
"Tie me up, Roger and then use your belt on me."
"Have you gone daft, woman?" He stared long and hard, scratching his naked scalp, the rusted wheels in his brain suddenly lubricated by the heady idea of her asking him to do what he'd craved to do for seventeen long years ... tie her up, shut her up. Imperceptibly the wrinkles smoothed and a smug grin straightened the downcast corners of his mouth, a strange flicker alighting his eyes. He stood potently erect. "Sailors knots or slip knots?"
Dottie grew impatient. "For Godsakes hurry up, Roger. Tie me up so I can't move and slap me around with your belt. When I tell you to quit leave my hands tied and then ... fuck me!" Her eyes gored into his, daring him, egging him on.
The right corner of his mouth curled in a grin and elfishly, he stepped behind her, wrapped the rope around her slender wrists, tying it securely. He gave it a little tug for good measure. The black belt with the silver buckle was his choice. Testing it, he snapped it against the bed a couple of times and seemingly satisfied, let it sing in the air.
He cringed, hearing that ugly slap of leather against naked flesh. Bile choked at his throat and sweat popped out on his forehead, but he raised his arm back just the same. He stopped after the second slash left a red welt on his wife's back.
Dottie moaned and stiffened, her head jolting back from the biting impact, her slitted eyes imploring up at him with a message that made his spine tingle.
Oh God, this is my wife ... I can't ...
"Do it, Roger. Do it again!"
"You asked for it!" Slap!
"Ag-gg-hh-hh ... ss-ss-hh-hg-gh-hh."
Slap!
"Aaaggghhhhh ... "
A strange stirring awakened in Roger's tired loins, some kind of charging hell bent virility that knotted his guts. Not since that first teenage romp in the sack ... no, not even then ...
Slap!
"Aa-ag-gg-hh-hh-ss-ss ... " Dottie was hissing through her teeth now, her nipples puckered and hard. "Take me now, Roger!" Her voice was husky with lust.
Roger gritted his teeth, his upper lip snarling in sadistic rapture. He pushed his wife's naked body off the stool, kicked it aside, and stood like William the Conqueror above his wife's groveling on the floor. He ripped off his shorts and pounced on her, flipping her over on her back.
"You said fuck you ... we'll start with mouth," he growled, wiggling his fat knees into her arm pits and thrusting his hard cock into her mouth.
"Oh-hhh ... mf-ff-f ... " she mumbled around the solid mouthful, her pupils dilated in lust. Not a whimper of pain sounded when her wheezing husband grabbed her brutally by the hair to mash her face into his groin until his balls spanked against her chin.
"After this, dear one ... I'm fucking you in the cunt ... and after that we'll roll you over for some ol' fashioned cornholin'!"
"Mm-mm-ff-ff ... yess-ss ... oh Gawddd, yes-ss!" Dottie bobbed her chin up and down, her eyes sparked with eagerness. Oh you beautiful man ... you wonder bastard ... finally you're acting like a man!
