"The Forbidden Moment" may be regarded as one of the "underground" classics of erotica, dating back from the great American depression of the Thirties. It first appeared about 1936 in hardcover format, showing no printer's imprimus or author's penname and as was then customary at bookstalls throughout the nation, discretely wrapped in brown paper. It had a sales vogue of about half a decade and then vanished irrevocably. To this day, it remains almost impossible for the most assiduous bibliophile to procure a copy of the original-and only-edition. Nor has it ever appeared in paperback format, possibly for the same reason.
Yet those of us who were adolescents when "Eunice" first made "her" appearance still remember it warmly and compare it with other classics that were so typical of that arduous era, "Dolly Morton," "The Way of a Man and a Maid," "Maud Cameron" and other of that ilk. However, "The Forbidden Moment" varied vastly in comparison with those masterpieces because of its unusual dual theme. Just as Nabokov's "Lolita" set the pattern for modern novels dealing with the seduction of the mature male by the post-puberty-age female, so Eunice established not only the internal conflict between the chaste female who fears sex and the voluptuary male who pursues its highest pleasures, but also stressed the sensual excitement of voyeurism to a degree hitherto not found in contemporary erotica.
The story is simplicity itself, a mark of the skilled writer. Eunice Norton is the daughter and only child of an elderly Southern banker who, for all his idealism, is an impractical man. Jack Mordaunt, the "hero" and arch-voluptuary, visiting the town, espies Eunice and desires her. But her imperious chastity prevents any extra-marital liaison and she indignantly rebuffs his advances. This affront to his male ego demands reprisal and Mordaunt obtains it by involving her father in a stock manipulation which ruins him. Then he offers to save Edward Norton at a price: the hand of Eunice in marriage. And Eunice reluctantly consents out of filial devotion and love.
Once having wed her, Mordaunt determines not only to punish her for her adamant chastity but to turn her into a consummate wanton within the boundaries of their marriage. And since his own penchant is for witnessing the fact of love as a stimulant to his own future enjoyment, he contrives to topple Eunice from her pedestal of vaunted chastity by constraining her to make love to him within the view of others, notably menials. The famous scene with the Pullman porter is a classic example of this. And finally, the arranged "kidnapping and rape" scene in Mexico, where Mordaunt contrives to have himself bound and gagged and "forced" to watch his beautiful wife's unwilling surrender to three bandits, climatically brings the chaste bride to the realization of her own furiously awakened sensuality.
At the time "Eunice" first appeared on the American scene, we were still in the throes of an ancient Puritanism which held that it is sinful for the female to share the male's libidinous passions for sexual relationship. The unfolding by the unknown author of Eunice's impeccable chastity towards a gradual awareness of her own mixed emotions until the supreme moment when she realizes that she shares Mordaunt's ardors and enjoys seeing herself being led towards his ordained goal of complete surrender to his whims has the ring of psychological truth to it. Even today, when we have achieved the freedom of rejecting puritanical censorship and believing that sexual freedom is a vital as literary freedom, "The Forbidden Moment" stands as a landmark of erotica, the more noteworthy because the reader is struck by the candor and honesty of Eunice Norton's gradual realization that her peerless chastity is, after all, a subterfuge and defense mechanism against her truest latent feelings.
The Editor
CHAPTER 1
Eunice Norton bit her lips as she stared into the mirror. Her ivory cheeks were flushed, but that roseate hue was not from excitement at having been in the company of a virile and handsome man, but rather from the shameful indignity to which he had subjected her. He had actually dared to kiss her and put his hand on her breast. Worse than that, he had whispered into her ear; "Eunice, you've got the most beautiful titties I've ever seen on a woman. I can't help wanting to feel them."
Of course she had slapped his face and told him, in the haughtiest and most indignant tone she could summon, that she never wanted to see him again. And he had actually dared to laugh at her! "Come off it, Eunice honey," he'd said, grasping her wrist while he stared into her eyes with that maddeningly ironic expression of his, "you're not a goddess, you know. Just a woman of flesh and blood, very handsomely put together and made for a man's enjoyment. And the sooner you come down from your high horse and realize you need a man who can attend to you, the happier you're going to be."
She stated at herself, still feeling her thighs quiver with the violent reaction of aftermath. The infamous beast! So smug and cocksure of himself, so certain that because he was a man and devilishly good looking-yes, she had to admit that-he had the inalienable right to maul her and make insulting advances to her. She ought to have known, from the very first evening she had accepted an engagement with him to go to dinner and the movies. Right in the lobby of the movie theater, he had actually dared to slide his arm round her waist and his hand-he had actually brushed his hand over-over her bottom! She'd gasped and stared at him and he'd given her that infuriating little smile of his and whispered, "Sorry, Miss Norton." And of course she'd thought, well, perhaps it had been an accident. But now she knew him for the lecherous scoundrel he really was-to dare to touch her there and to talk about her private parts so-so indecently!
Of course, she had only consented to go out with him because he was associated in some business venture with her father. Daddy had told her that Mr. Mordaunt was from the North and was forming a mining company with several other Northern investors. His bank was underwriting the stock which was to be issued. He had checked Mr. Mordaunt's credit and business contacts and found them to be of the highest calibre. So, he had told her, it would certainly do not harm to be on good terms with this enterprising gentleman in whose power it lay to make the bank a handsome profit. Business had been very bad ever since the terrible stock-market crash in the fall of 1929 and even now, three years later, it was still shaky. That was why Edward Norton, whose poste as president of the Mainland Bank of Asheville was equally shaky in the face of opposition from his board of trustees, had been so anxious to invite Mordaunt to turn his business over to Mainland. A handsome profit on this stock transaction would be the best rebuttal to the charges that he, Edward Norton, was getting too old to handle the pressing affairs of a bank.
Eunice knew that if her father lost his post as head of Mainland, he would die of grief. All he had in the world was the bank and her, since Mother had died a dozen years ago from an attack of virulent influenza which had claimed many lives in Asheville. She had been closer than ever to him after Mother's passing; now they were inseparable and she knew that he loved her as dearly and relied on her as much as he had Mother. And that was why she had reluctantly consented to Jack Mordaunt's request for a date. Tonight, the occasion of their third such engagement, would mark the end of that tenuous relationship. Even if Daddy wanted her to go out with that awful man, she wouldn't, not ever again. Though of course she'd die before she'd tell Daddy why she felt that way.
Eunice Norton was twenty and a virgin. The mirror showed the reflection of a black-haired young woman of medium height, with slim waist, gently rounded hips and gracefully long, slender thighs. Her face was oval and sensitive and her coiffure, which arranged her glossy black hair in a thick chignon at the nape, combed high away from her arching forehead and the sides to leave her dainty little ears bare, emphasized the tremulous, delicate, almost ethereal quality of her features. Her nose was daintily aquiline, with thin, widely flaring nostril wings; her mouth small but sensuously ripe, the upper lip being fuller than its soft red mate. Her determined little chin was beautifully dimpled and there was an exquisite little brown birthmark near her left cheekbone. Her eyes were wide, large and of a luminous brown, with very thick long lashes and finely chiseled brows surmounting them. When she was angry, her eyes had tiny green flecks at the iris and her brows arched into a haughty bow- just as they had just now when she told Jack Mordaunt she never again wished to be importuned by his presence again.
Edward Norton, after his beloved wife Virginia's death, had undertaken the task of uprearing his only child and being himself an idealist, had surrounded her with beauty, art, poetry and great books, believing that the development of her mind was the most important achievement of all. Now sixty-one, he had been a virtual recluse, occupying himself with work at the Mainland Bank till, at the age of forty, he had chanced to meet Virginia hill at a wedding reception for his cousin. It had been love at first sight-but a kind of pure, ethereal love which ignored the lusty tenets of sex. Himself an only child, Edward Norton had been brought up to understand that continence was a virtue and rejection of physical temptation a triumph of good over evil. And Virginia Hill herself, golden-haired, gentle, reticent, who loved books and paintings and a summer landscape as much as he did, felt very much the same way. Their wedding night had been almost apologetic and Edward Norton had hated himself for having been vulgar enough to ply his beautiful chaste bride with his sensual desire. From that union had come Eunice. and only a few years later, Virginia's always delicate health had begun to fail, so that she fell an easy victim to the epidemic of flu which had ravaged Asheville that tragic winter. That was why Edward Norton had sheltered his daughter, so that she might evoke for him the memory of his exquisitely gentle wife.
She had been sent to private school, as a continuation of that sheltering care, so that she might not be subjected to the rowdyism of the public schools, nor-though naturally Edward Norton saw no reason to mention this to his daughter-to the crude attentions of the opposite sex. Her college, too, was a select finishing school near Montgomery and there again no unseemly contact with the male was possible, except a formal, gracious introduction to the brother or cousin of this or that student chum and always under the strict chaperoning of Miss Felicity Weathers, the spinster dean of the school.
It was Edward Norton's hope that one day his daughter would marry some sensitive, cultured young gentleman, the scion of an illustrious old family, where she might continue to lead the same sheltered, flawless life as the respected bride of a blue-blooded aristocrat. At the same time, he winced at the thought of subjecting his lovely girl to the realities which even so advantageous to marriage must necessarily entail. He shrank from the thought of having to edify her on the processes by which a man and a woman engendered an heir-even as he and his beloved, pure Virginia had to do.
In a word, he was an old fashioned idealist, nurtured on the virtues of honor and integrity, with a serenely unshakable belief that justice would triumph and that evil could be eliminated even in mundane doings. Since his wife's death, he had employed a widowed housekeeper, Mrs. Laura Edmunds, to help not only with the domestic chores of the old, stately frame house on Purtice Street in which he resided with his daughter but also to aid him in Eunice's upbringing. Happily, she shared his views and was as devoted to Eunice as he. And thus, till the meeting with Jack Mordaunt, Eunice Norton had had not the slightest opportunity to become embroiled with the male animal and to learn that if he found her desirable, it was not because of her inordinate chastity and her cultured mind and aristocratic bearing.
CHAPTER 2
At the very moment that Eunice Norton was examining herself in her mirror to determine whether the outrageous affront she had sustained had in any way altered her, the perpetrator of that affront, Jack Mordaunt, was preparing to make love to his handsome landlady, Mrs. Myrtle Eames.
Jack Mordaunt was thirty-eight, nearly six feet tall, with sturdy shoulders and chest, thick curly black hair in which a distinguished streak of gray was beginning to show at one side, with strong, virile features. Born in St. Louis and orphaned at an early age, he had managed to survive by his wits. First he had been a newsstand vendor, then a roustabout with a traveling carnival. But he had also been ambitious and shrewdly intelligent, wanting the good things in life and realizing that education made it possible to acquire them by bestowing the veneer which would make him acceptable to those who had been born on the right side of the tracks. Fortunately for him, an uncle whom he had never seen as a boy had managed to locate him when he was seventeen and had not only paid his tuition to a college but made him a gift of five thousand dollars and given him the good advice of learning all he could about financial transactions, particularly stocks and bonds.
By dint of perseverance and hard work, he had graduated with honors, then found a job as a clerk with a brokerage firm in Chicago, where he had readily mastered the technique of buying and selling futures. Jovial, gregarious, he had made friends with his associates as well as with the firm's clients: one of these latter had given him a market tip into which he had plunged the capital his uncle had given him. By the time he was twenty-five, he had thirty-five thousand dollars in the bank and a post as counselor in a small new investment firm. Here he used his knowledge and ability to make useful contacts to build his fortune. By the time of the ill fated stock-market crash, he was worth a cool hundred thousand dollars and had the foresight to pull out of the market just before the bottom fell out of everything.
He had come to Asheville in the capacity of sales manager of a mining firm, which was really a dummy corporation founded by several shrewd investors and stock manipulators who operated just on the side of the law to make a quick killing. The objective was to find a bank through which the stock of this new corporation could be floated; then, at a given time, when rumors had been spread through investment houses of the rising fortune of the corporation, to unload the stock and issue a new debenture, capital for which would be in the profits immediately gained by this overall sale. The bank chosen for this speculation would, be sure, ultimately lose a great deal of money, but the loss would be legally sustained and Mordaunt and his associates could not be held accountable.
He had come to the Mainland Bank and met Edward Norton; a single meeting had convinced him that he had found the clearing house through which this ingenious speculation could be channeled. Norton's impracticality and naivete in business matters would be the perfect assurance of that. Meeting Eunice Norton had been quite unexpected. Now, however, it was a kind of extra dividend. And now that she had upbraided him for daring to attempt any physical liberties with her, Jack Mordaunt was toying with the idea of reaping the harvest of that dividend to the fullest possible extent. He told himself he would not be content till he had got Eunice Norton in bed naked as the day she was born and could fuck her to his cock's content, in every way and position imaginable. Her icy hauteur and her untouchable chastity had acted like a cantharid on his lustful nature.
For though he was a bachelor at thirty-eight just as Eunice's father had been at that same age, there the resemblance ended. Along with his perseverance and driving ambition, Jack Mordaunt had become an expert voluptuary, more than a competent lover, capable of drawing women like flies to his magnetic animalism, his magnificent build, and above all, his tremendously virile cock. As early as sixteen, while working the carnival through the Dakotas, he had fucked the lusty thirty-year-old red-haired wife of the carnival's owner, so expertly that she could not believe he had actually been a virgin till they had gone to bed that first time. Before his uncle found him, he had transferred his attentions to two of the quartet of "Egyptian" dancing girls which the troupe boasted-the two prettiest, to be sure. When he went, he found few obstacles in his path to the bed of love. Until he had met Eunice Norton, that is to say.
* * *
It was just about time for Jack Mordant to make a phone call and have the squeeze put on elderly, unsuspecting banker Edward Norton. He decided, however, he was going to give him one more try before determining just how he would exact settlement of the score. Norton himself was a pretty nice old guy, stuffy and pompous as you would expect of a gentleman from the old Shorthorn school. He couldn't feeling sorry for the guy because he didn't have a wife around to comfort him when he had to make important decisions and just about all he had to live for was that cold, snippy Eunice.
Jack Mordaunt, for all his attitude of dominant, aggressive male, had a fair education and had read omnivorously whenever he had the chance. Sitting in his room which he had rented from Myrtle Eames this warm August evening, he lit a Havana panatela, drew on it and leaned back in the comfortable armchair which faced the window looking out onto the pleasant Center Square Place. He reflected on Eunice, but this time not entirely in a physical way. He began to ask himself exactly why she had gotten under his skin, quite apart from the fact that she had slapped him just because his hand happened to graze one of those beautiful titties of hers. He didn't hate a girl just because she said no or because she rebuffed him. Sometimes the chemistry was all wrong between prick and pussy. Sometimes he could remember seeing fellows go with girls who you'd think would be the last ones in the world to spread their legs for that particular guy- yet they were hotpants for him all the time. Another time you would see couples, legally tied together, who looked perfect for each other and yet each of whom was pursing his or her adventures outside the marriage bed. Nature wash a great big mystery and so was the chemistry which ignited the spark to harden a man's cock and want to dig itself between two twitching, moist, pink pussy-petals and keep pushing home until the explosion of orgasm came.
It wasn't exactly that about Eunice Norton and certainly it wasn't paramount for him to get her on a bed where he could fuck her, lick her, suck her, goose her, brown her, spank that sweet ivory ass of hers until it was flaming like a sunset and have her cry for him to stop and swear she would do anything in the world for him if he only would. Of course, that was very important. But it was her name alone that haunted him and had ever since the first minute Edward Norton, in the privacy of his own drawing-room, introduced the two of them. From the very start, Eunice had stared at him with those large, expressive eyes, her lips curved in a kind of supercilious smile as if he were dirt under her feet. Naturally this had been enough to stir his own chemistry, because a man always wants the unobtainable, always wants to fuck a cunt that wants to be aloof and considers itself unobtainable.
But the same - Eunice - now stirred vague memories of his educational days. Now where the deuce had he come across it before? Jack Mordaunt blew smoke wreaths into the air, following their progress to the ceiling. They rose in an orderly fashion, just as he had built step by step this little stock boosting scheme which would put Edward Norton and the bank in his power. And Eunice Norton had been the catalytic agent which had brought it all about. He could have tried the Gordon National Bank and Trust Company, half a mile way, with bigger assets than Edward Norton's bank could boast. It was a bonus for him that he hadn't gone to the other one, because now he was going to get Eunice. He wasn't sure of the details, but they were gradually building up in his mind.
Now he had it! Sure! in that book "Quo Vadis." The one they'd made a movie of a long time ago, a silent movie. Eunice had been a beautiful Greek slave girl belonging to the household of Petronius, who had been Nero's right-hand man. Nero had always wanted Petronius, who was called the "Arbiter of Elegance," to pass on everything he did. from reciting poetry to holding an orgy. If it didn't suit Petronius, Nero sulked in his tent.
Sure he remembered the story, plain as day now. It seems that this Petronius a friend of the hero of the book, Marcus Valerius and Marcus Valerius had fallen in love with a beautiful Christian girl, Lygia and had tried to abduct her so he could fuck the hell out of her sweet cunt. But the Christians had saved Lygia and Marcus had told Petronius he was fit to be tied. Petronius, being a kindly joe, had decided to make Marcus a present of Eunice, a shy sweet virgin who had never fucked any man before. Only, when the time came for Eunice to leave Marcus's household, she had looked down at her feet and stammered she didn't want to. Well, in those days nobody ever heard of a slave saying no to a master, so Petronius had to whip her just to show who was boss. And to show that he was an intellectual and didn't want to hurt her fine skin, he told the overseer to lay fifteen strokes on with a silken lash, so as not to cut her fine skin.
Then later, greatly disturbed by having had to punish her at all, because he probably had a hardon for her and didn't want to admit it - he had gone into the punishment room and seen her standing by the wall. When he asked if she'd had the lashes laid on, she sank to her knees before him, took his hand, pressed it to her lips and said, "Oh yes, Master! Thank you, Master!" And so he had decided not to send her to Marcus after all and that night he had taken her to bed, broken her cherry and fucked hell out of that sweet cunt of hers. And then, probably noticing the faint pink marks on her beautiful white skin, he had got a more tremendous hard-on than he had ever had in all his days as an intellectual.
So that was where the name Eunice came in! Jack Mordaunt chuckled and took another long puff at his cigar. He felt great. It was sort of symbolic, his remembering that story. Sort of symbolic, too, that snotty Miss Norton should, just like the slave girl in that book, refuse to have anything to do with him, even though her father had probably told her to be nice to him. Well, well, well! It was going to be a very interesting procedure to make her kneel down and kiss his hand and thank him for whacking hell out of that ivory ass of hers. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, dreaming of her. Let's see, now- that thick chignon of black hair which she had formed at the back of her neck would be loosened so her curls would flow down to her shoulder blades. She would wear a kind of tunic as they did in Roman days, a half slip, sheer as possible, probably black because it would set off her white skin so nicely. He would have a dressmaker make it up special for her. It would go down just over her pussy, high up on her thighs, so the least time she bent over or turned or moved at all the hemline would tilt up and he could see that prissy, haughty nobody-fucks-me cunt of hers and she would be kneeling there on her palms, her head bowed and her eyes on the floor, while he sat naked in his armchair, smoking a cigar and drinking a glass of good wine, or a tall, frosty mint julep. He would pretend not to notice her and she would squirm because her palms were arching, the way her knee-bones were pressing down hard on the floor and aching too. And finally he would say, "Slave, I thought I told you not to move a muscle. Bring the hairbrush. Get over my lap and count twenty-five and say 'Thank you, dear Master' after every spank. And if you're not back here in thirty-seven seconds with the hairbrush in hand and across my lap and ready to hand it up to me, I'll double the count!"
The mere thought of domineering the patrician brunette in exactly this way, as they did in the old Roman days when a slave could be whipped or fucked or branded or sold or tortured just for fun, made Jack Mordaunt have a tremendous hard-on. He unbuttoned his fly and let his massive prick pop out. The plump meatus throbbed with an aching, dull, rhythmic hurt. It was a damned shame that Myrtle had left for the weekend to visit a distant cousin in Shelby. Right now, he'd give a thousand bucks of the profits he was going to make on this deal to have Myrtle present in a half-slip, kneeling there on the floor. Only he wouldn't have her looking down at the floor, the way he'd start with Eunice. No, sirree. Myrtle would be made to kneel between his thighs and she would bend her head, all right, but it would be to put her mouth over the tip of his bulging prong and flick the tip of her tongue delicately all over it and then part the puckering lips from which his spunk spurted. And then she would kiss every inch of his cock and balls, rub them thoroughly with her soft tongue and then he would have her bend over and show her asshole, with her legs spread as far apart as she could manage. He would get up behind her and prod her pussy asshole with the tip of his cock, while he fondled one of her titties with one hand and pinched and spanked her big jutting taut-proffered bottom with the other till he couldn't bear it any more. Then he would grip her by the hipbones and jam his prick right into that pink gaping slit of hers, right up to the balls. And he would threaten her with a good sound spanking if she didn't stay in position just that way until he came.
But in this day and age, slavery was impossible. If you were a rich Arabian sheik, you could perhaps arrange with the slave market in Algiers to purchase a kidnapped white girl, or a Greek girl (who be perfect for buggering and browing), or anyone you chose if you had the price. But not here in the good old U. S. A.
No, he reflected soberly, as he took another puff at his cigar and opened his eyes to watch the smoke rise slowly over him. The only way to get Eunice Norton was to do it legally - to marry her. Then, as her husband, he would have every right to cram his cock in any hole he pleased! And also, according to the statues he had read, it was perfectly all right for a man to spank his wife any time he wanted to, with a stick no bigger than his thumb. Well, he wouldn't want to mar that lovely ivory skin of hers. But he'd like to make it so red and stinging that she couldn't sit down and would have to take her cunt, fucking standing up!
Closing his eyes again, Jack Mordaunt leaned back in his chair and his right hand slyly crept down to the bulging shaft that stood up at attention between his sinewy thighs. Making a ring of thumb and forefinger, he began to frig the head of his cock, very lingeringly. As he did so, he summoned up these and many more such images, all of Eunice, in chains naked except for shoulder-length gloves and high-heeled pumps, on in black bra and pantie combination, or in a thin nightie that let you see her pussy-hairs and the dark tidbits of her titties. He saw Eunice Norton in every conceivable position a woman could take for a fucking or a buggering. He saw her upside down, in the wheelbarrow, he holding her by the calves, her head and shoulders trailing on the floor and lifting her while he crouched just low enough to get prickhead into pussylips. Grinding his teeth, he felt himself explode. And he knew, as he moped his limpening cock with a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, just how he was going to win and conquer and fuck beautiful Eunice Norton. It was time she was educated all over again - educated to do what a man wanted, not what she preferred to do all by her lonesome. Yes, the education of Eunice Norton was going to be his primary project. He was going to make that telephone call right now!
CHAPTER 3
"My God, Mr. Mordaunt, I've been trying to get you over at Mrs. Eame's for the past two days!" Edward Norton's face was haggard as he looked up from his desk at the black-haired, cynically smiling man who stood before him.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Norton. I've had some business to take care of. But what's so urgent?"
Edward Norton extended a trembling hand towards the telegram, picked it up and thrust it out toward his newest and biggest investor. "Read this, Mr. Mordaunt. They're demanding cash for the stock that went through our bank. We're right in the middle. I tell you frankly, what with lending cash to the farmers around here for their cotton and tobacco and by new equipment, we're terribly short. And they won't us more than a week's a break. If I could have a month or two, I could probably get one or two of my friends in neighboring banks to tide us over, but this-" He shook his head with a groan.
"I'm afraid there isn't much I can do, Norton," Jack Mordaunt smiled. He took a cigar out of his pocket, bit off the end and lit if slowly and deliberately. "After all, I didn't force you to go into this deal, Norton."
"But you don't understand, Mr. Mordaunt," Edward Norton's voice betrayed his mounting anxiety. "I'll be ruined. I can be sent to prison. And you- you go off scot free. It's not fair. As a gentleman of honor, I appeal to you. Can't you do anything to ask these backers of yours to give me more time?"
"Not when it comes to their own money. Mine-that's another story."
"It'll mean ruin after all these years. All these years I've built this bank; it's been my life. And all I've got left is Eunice. What will she think when hen. father goes to jail for fraud? When all these fine people who have been my customers and friends for so many years point a finger at me and say. 'There goes Mr. Norton, the crooked banker.' And they'll say Eunice is the daughter of a criminal. It'll kill her, Mr. Mordaunt, just kill her. Please, Mr. Mordaunt."
Jack Mordaunt smiled enigmatically. He hadn't any quarrel with Edward Norton himself. Though his sexual tastes were slightly sadistic and deliciously complex, they concerned only the female, not the male of the species. He had won his battle and now it remained only to let Edward Norton off the hook - the hook that he had so ingeniously contrived for not the banker's daughter herself.
"I can try," he hedged, "but of course I can't promise anything."
"Oh, if you only would!"
"There's just one way, but it's a long shot."
"I'll do anything - anything within reason, Mr. Mordaunt."
Jack Mordaunt drew up a chair close to the trembling banker, his face ashen pale. He took a document out of his pocket and shoved it at the banker.
"If you agree to this, I think I can take some counter measures that will delay this demand for cash long enough to get you solvent again. I'll have to transfer some of my own funds to satisfy my associates, you understand, Norton. You realize that I don't have to do this of course."
Edward Norton nodded uttering a gasp of relief. "How can I ever thank you?"
"You needn't do it at all. There's only one thing I want."
"Name it."
"I'd like to be your son-in-law Mr. Norton. I've been thinking of settling down for a long time and Asheville is a lovely town. It's got a lot of tradition. I like you I like the people around here. I think I could have a good life for myself and a good one for your daughter too."
"You-you want to marry Eunice?" The banker's voice was quivering with astonishment.
Jack Mordaunt nodded. "I'm thirty-eight, Mr. Norton I've got a considerable fortune and I think you've seen my letters of credit. I've got a good family name, although of course it's nowhere near so fine as yours. But at least I'm bringing in fresh blood and ideas, which ought to count for something."
"I - I don't really know, Mr. Mordaunt. You see, Eunice has been sheltered. Ever since her mother's death, I've tried to -- well, bring her up like a lady. And her mother would have wanted that. She's most independent. A very brilliant girl in her schooling, you know. She doesn't take kindly to my interference - and I've never tried to dictate any romantic interest to her, even though she is twenty, an age where most girls in this region are either engaged or married."
"I think, Mr. Norton, if she realizes it means your ruin, possibly even your suicide," Jack Mordaunt said brutally, "she might reconsider. I don't ask her to leave me. Love comes after marriage, not always before. But she'll respect me. And I've more money than you do, again to put it frankly to you. I'll keep her in luxury and she'll be a fine lady, just as she is now. Well, what about it?"
"I - I wish to God I didn't have to involve her. Won't you be satisfied with my word that I'll make good, if you'll just extend the time."
Jack Mordaunt was deaf to that final plea. He shook his head. "I told you once before, Mr. Norton, it's not up to me. It's up to the boys who had this money and stock worked out by your bank. They could really take you into bankruptcy court right now, even maybe into criminal court for fraud. Think it over. I'll call on you tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. I'll have to have your answer then, because that's the last chance I'll have to contact Mr. Seymour, the head of the syndicate. Good morning to you."
* * *
Eunice Norton uttered a gasp of incredulity as she listened to her father. Sealed across the dinner table from him, exquisitely attired in a black silk dress with modest cut that completely concealed the glory of her virgin titties, her glossy black hair combed back into the thick, prim chignon which fixed against the nape of her neck, she looked sophisticatedly mature, much more than her twenty years.
"Do you mean to tell me, Father that he has the conceited notion to want to propose to me? He's a boor, his only interest is in money and besides I find him personally offensive."
"Eunice, my darling, you have to listen to me. All my life I've tried to do the thing I thought was right-to be honest, not to cheat anyone and not to involve any member of my family in a needless scandal," the elderly banker begged. "I've explained to you how these fellows have manipulated their stock transactions so as to leave the bank holding the bag, so to speak. Since I was the one who authorized the transaction, I'll be the one they'll prosecute on criminal charges. If I went to prison, Eunice, it would ruin you in this town. You know it would. They'd point a finger at you and jeer and say, "There goes the daughter of Banker Norton. She thinks she's so high and mighty and her father is a crook. I'd kill myself before I'd let that happen to you, Eunice darling."
Eunice Norton bit her exquisitely sensuous lips and was very pale. "I don't want that to happen to you either, Father," she said in a low, quivering voice. "At least he has the decency to offer marriage."
"Eunice!" her father gasped at this improper hint from his virginal daughter.
"I mean it, Father." Two delicious spots of red stained the ivory pallor of her cheeks, "He's an adventurer and I'm sure he's carrying on some sort of affair with that divorcee where he's boarding. Just to think of him looking at me makes me shudder. You don't know, Father, but once he actually dared to touch - to touch me where no gentleman should ever touch a lady. And I slapped his face."
"My poor child. I haven't even the right to ask you to try to save the family name, to save me from disgrace," Edward Norton groaned and hid his face in his hands. "But the references I've had about him slow that at least he's wealthy and well-thought-of in business affairs. And as his wife you'd have the sort of luxury you're entitled to. Otherwise, we'll both be paupers. If your poor mother were here to help counsel us both, perhaps I could be wiser than I am. But all I see is the ignominy of a prison cell and the jeering laughter of the neighbors when they see you on the street, my darling girl."
Eunice Norton closed her eyes and shivered again. Her lips tightened, then moved, as if in prayer.
"You're quite sure, Father, that if I agree to marry him, he'll see to it that you aren't held responsible and the bank won't be ruined?"
Her father nodded, his tear-grimming eyes fixing on the beautiful young woman seated across from him. Eunice Norton drew a deep breath. For a moment she closed her eyes again. Then regaining control of herself, she said calmly to her father, "When you see him tomorrow morning, tell him I will marry him. I ask only that I have an opportunity to speak with him before the wedding takes place."
* * *
At about the same time Eunice Norton had resigned herself to a sacrifice of her hand in marriage, little suspecting that Jack Mordaunt intended to enjoy far more than her hand (which he meant to train to caress his massive cock by way of prelude to many a bout of energetic fucking), that worthy cocksmith was taking his ease in Myrtle Eames's bedroom, with the door securely bolted against possible intruders.
It had been a most enjoyable and profitable day. He had phoned his friend Seymour to advise him that he had another twenty-four hours before the proposition went through as planned and then Edward Norton would probably take himself off the hook.
"I'm not even going to be greedy, Seymour old boy," he had told the syndicate chief. "I'll settle for ten thousand dollars. It will pay for a nice honeymoon in Mexico."
"You mean you're going to settle down and marry one piece of pussy, instead of dipping your, wick in every hole you come upon?" Seymour had chuckled across the long-distance wire.
"I can assure you that marriage isn't going to cramp my style one little bit. If anything, marriage is going to be very educational. Well, you'll be hearing from me tomorrow, I'm pretty sure. You know our plans. And we'll go ahead with it just as we planned. Well, see you! Oh, when you send the check for ten grand, you might have the thoughtfulness to pick out a nice little present for my bride-to-be. Something useful. She's, slim, snooty and brunette."
"How about a hairbrush? You can use it on her backside as well as on her hair, just by changing sides," the syndicate chief had laughed as he hung up.
So Jack Mordaunt was in great good humor and full of anticipation. He knew the pride of these distinguished old Southern families only too well. And Edward Norton would certainly induce, by the most powerful arguments at his disposal, his disdainful daughter to take the only step possible to save her father from financial and personal ruin.
He reclined in a low armchair, totally naked, his big prick thrust up between his hairy, sinewy thighs and his eyes sparkled. With good reason, because big, buxom Myrtle Eames was just stooping to pull off her last stocking and be completely naked for him. The big juicy cantaloupes of her titties dangled like ripe fruits from the vine, ready for plucking. His mouth watered slightly. He was seeing in his mind's eye once again, Eunice on their wedding night. How would he go about taking her maidenhead? Not the ordinary way, that's for sure. She had slapped him and rebuffed him. Well, he was going to return the favor in spades. He was going to put Eunice Norton through the most arduous honeymoon any bride ever had. They would go to Mexico, spend a week in Mexico City seeing the nightlife and then on to his little hacienda about seventy-five miles to the southwest. That was something that even Edward Norton hadn't been able to find out about in the dossier the banker had had compiled as soon as the financial deal had been proposed to his bank. They would round out the honeymoon in an extraordinary way, with the scornful daughter of this sanctimonious old banker.
"You know, Myrtle baby," he chuckled, watching her turn to face him, his eyes laving the rippled goblets of her swollen titties, the rich, dimpled belly, the thick, dark-blonde curls which framed her plump pussy, "we really ought to have champagne tonight. It's sort of a stag party. You don't know it yet, but I'm going to be married pretty soon."
"Married, darling? To whom? I wish it were to me," Myrtle said simply, pulling herself close to him, her hands running down his thighs in a nervous gesture because she was itching to be fucked.
"Don't you worry, Myrtle. You'll find a husband damn soon. In fact, when I have to leave you on my honeymoon, if you're still itching, I've got a friend back in Chicago who just kicked his wife out because she was two-timing him. I think you'd do very nicely for him. His name's Ed Fisher and he's rich. He's about forty and almost as good in bed as I am. What do you say?"
Myrtle Eames blushed furiously and lowered her eyes. "You - you're just awful," she countered. "It sounds as if you're trying to peddle me off on just anybody."
He shook his head and patted his lap. "Sit down and do some work to earn your keep around here, baby," he invited her. "I give you my word that Ed can meet your needs almost as well as I do. You know perfectly well, Myrtle, that when winter comes, you're going to be awfully cold in bed alone when I'm not here to service you. Why, Ed's prick is almost as long as mine. And I'll give you another little hint about him: he's something of a pearldiver-he likes to suck pussy before he fucks. That should recommend him to you."
"Oooohhhh!" Myrtle Eames uttered a shocked gasp. She got astride his thighs and arched herself toward his jutting ramrod. He reached up his hand to play with her titties, to tweak the nipples that stiffened and darkened under his fingers.
"Go ahead," he urged. "You know what to do next. If you want things in this world, Myrtle baby, you've got to reach out and take them for yourself. That's my motto."
"You're just too awful for words, "Jack Mordaunt," Myrtle gasped, as she tremulously reached out her soft little hand to grasp his cock while with the thumb and index finger of the other hand she yawned her pussylips still more to receive his offering. Then, with an anticipatory little moan of bliss, she sank slowly down and impaled herself, her head falling back, her eyes closed, her head tilted in an agony of ecstasy as she felt his tool, rasping and hot, against the quaking walls of her fiery cunthole. "Aaaaah, Oooooh, how good it feels doing it this way, Jack darling. It's going to pierce on through me and come out of my bottom, I just know it is - Oooooh, Jack, Oh, Jack, it's so thrilling."
"Now ride me, baby and be careful not to let it slip out of that sweet snatch of yours, or Papa will spank," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers still kneading and rubbing her big titties. And as Myrtle Eames hastened to obey, rising up and then lowering to impale herself, her breath quickening and her burning cunthole drew her closer and closer to hot gismic come, Jack Mordaunt closed his eyes and imagined that it was Eunice Norton who, naked as the day she was born, bestrode his thighs and herself did all the fucking while he sat back and enjoyed her wriggling twists and jerks and perorations, feeling his cock drive into that patrician groove which he knew no other man's organ had ever probed.
CHAPTER 4
Eunice Norton had never looked more beautiful, more desirable and yet more aloof than when she stood beside Jack Mordaunt in the office of the City Clerk of Asheville, while a Municipal Court Judge quickly read the marriage service. The only witnesses were Eunice's father, pale and shaken with his anguish at having had to sacrifice his daughter to save his reputation and his bank, as well as his own modest fortune which would have gone under to the coup of the syndicate had he not brought Jack Mordaunt the news that his daughter had agreed to accept the latter as her rightfully wedded spouse.
Eunice wore a white silk dress with pleated skirt, simply cut and modest, yet in Jack's eager eyes it fitted her like water. The pleats - he preferred this type of skirt on a girl, as a matter of fact - emphasized the voluptuous length of Eunice's thighs and highlighted the succulent firmness of her oval contoured bottom cheeks. As to the bodice, it was modesty in rising to the throat, but it clung appetizingly over the widely spaced pears of her superb titties. Her glossy black hair was trimly fixed into an oval bun at the nape of her neck, emphasizing the pure lines of her arching forehead. He licked his lips inwardly at the thought of what he was going to do to her, now that he had the legal right. He could beat her with a stick no thicker than his thumb, if she refused his desires, he knew. He could humiliate her and make her perform the lewdest of acts. The thought of having her naked, kneeling before him, her hands clutching the backs of his thighs, while her soft trembling lips and dainty pink tongue caressed his stiffening prick - or gave him a "trip around the world" by burrowing that arrogant tongue of hers in between the cheeks of his backside - gave him a hard-on which he had to restrain himself to control during the ceremony. It was late afternoon and the ceremony took only five minutes. When the Judge had pronounced them man and wife, Jack Mordaunt took his wife into his arms and kissed her chastely on the forehead, somewhat to her surprise. Her beautiful eyes darkened with anguish, with circles around them which proved that she had wept before making his decision of giving herself to this suave, black-haired, sophisticated man whom she sensed was not going to respect and honor her as a loyal husband: all these flaws made her more beautiful and desirable in Jack Mordaunt's greedy eyes.
Edward Norton came up to his new son-in-law, biting his lips dejectedly.
"Congratulations, Jack," he said in a low, trembling voice, as he offered his hand. "I hope you'll make her happy. She's all I've got, you know."
"Dad," Jack Mordaunt slyly responded, an ironic smile curving his sensual mouth, "your little girl hasn't known what happiness is until now. I'm going to teach her every possible phase and you can depend on it. Oh, by the way, not that I want to disrupt the sentimental mood of this happy occasion by talking business, but I just wanted to let you know I got a wire an hour ago from up north and everything has been taken care of. You haven't got a thing to worry about."
"Thanks - thank God!" the older man fervently responded. Then he put his hands on Eunice's shoulders and kissed her on the lips, almost reverently, as if symbolically bidding her farewell. He didn't know it, but he was doing precisely that.
"I wish you every happiness, darling. And I will never forget how loyal and how brave you've been," he said in a voice low enough for only her to hear. She gave him an affectionate, understanding look, but said nothing. Her warm ivory skin was unusually pale. She felt a little shiver run through her as Jack Mordaunt, having thanked the Judge and slipped him a bill for his services, now turned back to face her. Psychologically, the leave-taking from her father and Jack's taking hold of her hand gave her the terrifying premonition that perhaps the obscene dreams she had had the other night might come true - and again beautiful, haughty Eunice Norton, a pure virgin, had not the faintest inkling of what awaited her from this time forth. If she had known, we must only conjecture whether she still would have married the man who was to become so odiously, her tyrant and her master, the lord of her body and of every intimate thought and portion of her anatomy, in order to save her father. It would assuredly have tried her courage to the utmost, even though at this very moment she believed that she had made an heroic sacrifice.
"Well, we'd better be getting along, Dad," Jack Mordaunt said in a false cheeriness. "We're going to catch the ten-thirty plane for Amarillo. Then we'll stay there a night or two and my foreman, Luis, will meet us and drive us across the border to my hacienda near Aguarmorante."
For the first time since she had arrived at the City Hall to go through this unwanted marriage, Eunice Norton - or rather Eunice Mordaunt now - turned to him with surprise widening her lovely eyes.
"Your hacienda?"
"Sure. Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you. I own a ranch there. A few head of cattle, a few fruits and vegetables, a little grain. I let Luis run it for me - he's very capable hand. About ten years ago I invested some of my stock speculation money in a piece of Mexican land and I hit it rich. There was a little oil near the property, so like a good, patriotic citizen, I let the Mexican Government take the lion's share of the profits and leave me just enough to be happy with. In return, I don't have to worry about taxes and I've got a nice comfortable ranch house and a pretty good piece of property, if I do say so myself. We're going to spend our honeymoon there, Eunice."
Her father, pitifully eager to please and to solace his beautiful daughter, broke in with an enthusiasm he did not feel. "I hear Mexico's a beautiful place. You've never been there, Eunice dear and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
"She will indeed, Dad," Jack Mordaunt promised, but here was a deadly glint in his eyes which made those words ring falsely true!
* * *
"We've got a drawing-room all to ourselves, honey," Jack Mordaunt tipped the porter and leaned back comfortably on the upholstered seat, while his beautiful wife nervously seated herself across from him. "Nothing but he best for Jack Mordaunt and his wife, eh, honey?"
"Thank you," Eunice said dully.
"Oh, come on now. That's no way for a blushing bride to act," he chuckled, patting the seat beside himself. "There's plenty of room here on either side of me. Aren't you going to snuggle up against your new husband and get acquainted?"
"I - I've got a slight headache, I'm afraid. I'm awfully sorry, but if you don't mind, I'd rather stay here." Eunice gave him one of her haughty looks, though her tone was soft and apologetic; for this autocratic beauty, it was already a concession to have to express herself thus to this man whom she detested not quite knowing why, part from his one unpardonable act of boldness in having brushed his hand against her bosom. And now suddenly a fiery glow suffused her cheeks as she thought with awakening horror that because that judge this afternoon had muttered a few words over them, this man across from her would have the legal right to demand that she be in bed beside him, naked, her most intimate parts his lawful prey! To think of his sinewy fingers touching her, where they had dared to touch before when she was fully dressed - oh, how could she go through with it, even to save her poor father! And yet she knew that here had been no other hope. She would have to resign herself. She would close her eyes and stiffen herself. Even if he took his marital rights, it would be from a body which grudgingly gave them and he could never touch her inner spirit.
But to her surprise, he was extremely amiable and accepted her explanation: "Sure, honey, I know how it is. Girls get the migraines on their wedding day. I'm not a bad guy and you and I are going to get along fine. I'll tell you what - would you like me to ring for the porter and get you a cold drink or something before we turn in?"
She stared him in remembered horror. To call the porter to make the beds in the compartment would mean only one thing - he wanted to go to bed with her and do that to her! Oh God, could no one save her? And yet she was his wife. And if she told anyone what she feared, they would only laugh at her. He had every right - they were traveling to Mexico together and this was their wedding night.
"No, thank you," she answered him at last.
"You can do one nice thing for me," he suggested with a suave smile. "You can call me Jack."
"All right - Jack. Could we go to sleep right now? This headache of mine is getting worse." Inwardly Eunice complimented herself; she had let him know that she didn't want any sex tonight, even if it was their first night together. Yet she had said it in a way that couldn't possibly hurt him. But if she could have read Jack Mordaunt's mind at this moment, she would have been unable to speak, so great would have been her horrified despair at the project that he was concocting for her taming, her subjugation and her complete conquest. He was going to make her wallow in shame, drink the dregs of it. He was going to make her not much more than a body-slave who would suck his prick, lick his bunghole, try every position in the book that a woman could be fucked in and in short, appease his every physical need. She couldn't know - her feminine mind could not have encompassed so terrifying a future - that at the hacienda she would be little more than a prisoner, subjected to the despotic and lecherous whims of his cruel Mexican foreman and worst of all - a revelation he was saving for her as a special tidbit - to the whims of his beautiful, exotic Mexican-Indian mistress, Dolores Agudo!
CHAPTER 5
Eunice Mordaunt uttered a sigh of relief. The plump, pleasant-faced Negro porter had come in obsequiously, made up the beds in the compartment, asked if there was anything he could bring for the lady and then pocketed the tip Jack gave him and eased out the door, leaving them alone together.
"Go ahead and take the bathroom first, honey and get to bed. I'll sit up and smoke. I want to be rested when we get to Mexico," he said.
Startled, Eunice eyed him. Was he really so considerate? Had she erred in her judgment of him? She bit her lips, confronted by this contradictory evidence. Finally she said, "Thank you. It's very decent of you."
She rose and went to the private bathroom of the pullman compartment. She couldn't know that his eyes were feasting on the oval cheeks of her backside, moving tightly against the pleated shirt which shaped out hose juicy ass-globes. Because he was a connoisseur of cunt, Jack Mordaunt found a great deal of relish in telling himself that there was no hurry in bringing Eunice to the point of submission. The longer he waited to make his first emprise of her luscious, lithe, firm and supple body, the more humiliation and anguish she would suffer. And yet he could hardly wait to see the clothes stripped away, to see those sculptured, marble-like hillocks of her virgin ass streaked with a whip, reddened by the palm of his striking hand, the cheeks drawn asunder by her own trembling fingers as she bared the dainty, crinkly rosette of her virgin asshole and let him see not only that maiden jewel, but also the appetizing fur-framed lips of her maiden cunthole ... all his to enjoy in so many exquisite and perverse ways.
Yes, rather than fucking her right now and imposing his husbandly rights upon her, Jack Mordaunt decided to prolong his feast of fuckery until Eunice would be like a captive deer in a trap, watching the hunger slowly glide toward her, not knowing when the excruciating moment of supreme sacrifice would be demanded of her.
When she emerged in her nightgown, with a modest grey cotton bathrobe over it, the belt tightly tied, she turned scarlet to find his eyes fixed on her. He was still seated directly across from the little door from which she emerged. He had been sitting there all the time, she suddenly realized, smoking his cigarette and waiting for her to come out. Her breath tremblingly rose and fell beneath the thin nightgown and the robe. She felt her very flesh crawl, as if his eyes were fingers, touching her in places that no man had ever done before. Between her legs, in that furry little spot ... she knew very well, at least from books, what men and woman did together. Until this actual moment, even during the ceremony of the marriage at the City Hall, she had not actually realized that when she became the wife of Jack Mordaunt, her soft slit between her quivering thighs became his to pry into with that big, hard thing between his legs.
"Well, I'll sleep in the seat. It's wide enough to put my legs up on, Eunice. You take the whole bed to yourself. I want you to get rid of that headache so you can have on your honeymoon."
Again her eyes widened with surprise. She hadn't expected any consideration at all, even though she had come out and told him that she was indisposed.
"Th - thank you, J-Jack. It's very good of you to be so understanding."
"You'll find me a very understanding fellow, Eunice baby," he said with a voice that jarred her with its almost flippant familiarity. It was precisely the tone he wanted to let her know that she wasn't a statue up on a pedestal, or wouldn't be for very much longer. Rather, in his fantasy, he could see her up on a pedestal with the bathrobe and the nightgown fallen to the floor, standing there and shrinking under his eyes, with maybe a spotlight on her that would bring out the finely grained naked skin, the hairs over her cunthole. Yes, she was going to be his statue, his bedbitch, his naked thing, his sloven slut. And what she didn't team from him, Luis and Dolores could teach her!
When he turned out the light, after she had quickly gotten into bed and pulled the sheets up to her neck, (despite the warm weather outside, the train's air conditioning wasn't as cool as it might have been) she saw the continuing glow of his cigarette before she finally fell asleep. It was like a baleful eye regarding her. Once again she dreamed ... she dreamed that she was in a darkened room and could hear the slithering of some animal or person or serpent in the distance, but she could see nothing. Nothing until out of the darkness there came a terrible red eye fixed on her, stripping away her clothes and then growing larger and larger as if to bum her to a crisp. She clutched her hands to her cunthole, in her dream, wanting to protect that at all costs. Cold sweat pearled on her forehead and she moaned.
Jack Mordaunt raised his head from his bed on the long lounge-seat. Then he chuckled softly and went back to sleep.
* * *
Eunice had slept fitfully during the night, troubled by her disturbing subconscious anxieties over this hasty, loveless marriage. When she wakened, Jack Mordaunt already shaved and dressed and was smoking a cigar, the fumes of which made her wrinkle her nose.
"Would you mind going out into the club car, Jack, please? Father never smoked cigars at home because the smell of them bothers me a good deal," she explained.
"Is that so?" he insolently replied, his eyes fixed on her with a mocking attentiveness. "I'm sorry, but I have to have my morning cigar, especially before I have breakfast. I've been waiting for you to get up and dress so we can order it. We get to Amarillo late tomorrow afternoon, so while you're in this compartment, honey, you'll have to learn some of my little foibles. It will help make our marriage go smoother, if you know what I mean."
"I understand," she replied, trying to keep a smile on her lips, though she didn't feel like smiling at all. "But I really can't bear that awful cigar. Won't you be nice and smoke it somewhere else?"
"No. Now get in the bathroom and get dressed, because I want my breakfast," he said curtly.
Eunice paled again and a vivid blush suffused her cheeks, as she caught her breath at his insolence. She started at him for a moment, almost ready to cry out to him that he was behaving like an utter boor. But strangely, though she couldn't explain it herself, there was something in his look which held back her tirade at the last moment. It was a brooding, baleful look ... now she remembered. It was like that terrible red eye which pursued her in the nightmare.
With a sigh which was audible to him and a shrug of her beautiful shoulders, Eunice Mordaunt went into the bathroom, closed the door and then locked it.
Jack Mordaunt leaned back in his seat, put the cigar to his lips, and leaning his head back, blew a thick blue wreath up at the ceiling. There was a cruel grin on his sensual mouth. He was anticipating his first domination of his beautiful wife ... the wife who destined to be his slave, his bitch, his prick-adorer, the humble, servile creature who would perform at his bidding and in terror for the sanctions he would otherwise interpose, the most odious and obscene of acts.
When Eunice came out of the bathroom clad in the white pleated dress which had been her wedding gown, the compartment was thick and acrid with cigar fumes. She grimaced with disgust and put a cologne-soaked handkerchief to her dainty, aquiline nose, a gesture which Jack Mordaunt did not miss.
"Well, ready for breakfast now?" he asked jovially.
"If you like," she said coldly. "But frankly, I'd rather eat in the dining room and be away from this dreadful smoke."
"We're going to stay in this compartment until we reach Amarillo, Eunice, so get that through your pretty head. Now sit down and behave yourself."
"How dare you?"
"You forget you're married to me and that in this state, as well as the one we just passed through last night, a husband can punish his wife any time she acts up and makes a fool of herself. Just remember that, beautiful."
He lolled back in his seat, his legs sprawled, puffing away at the stub of his cigar. Eunice felt her blood pressure going up. She was furious with him. He was doing this on purpose, just to anger and humble her. The offensive boor! Yes, that was exactly what he was. She had been right the very first time she had met him, in that judgment of his nature. And to think she was married to this oaf, when there were so many distinguished young men back in Asheville who could have courted her. Oh, the ignominy of it!
But there was something in his mockingly jovial attitude and the watchful glint in his eyes which made her, despite herself, sit down in front of him, her hands folded on her knees and regard him with a kind of frightened anticipation.
Indolently he reached over and pushed the button to summon the Pullman porter.
"What would you like for breakfast, darling? I would suggest a good hearty one. I like a woman who eats. It means she fucks like a mink when it's bedtime. You know, that's really true, baby."
"What did you say?" Eunice's cheeks were flaming again and her eyes were building, while her partner lips curled in a grimace of revulsion.
"I said," he patiently replied, "that I like a woman who eats, because it means she fucks good in bed. Or don't you understand the terminology? Don't tell me you've never fucked before, Eunice baby."
"Ohhhh! You - insufferable beast! You filthy scoundrel, to dare to speak to me that way!"
"Well, well, well," he chuckled as he took another irritatingly deliberate puff at what was left of the cigar. "I wouldn't have guessed in a million years that haughty Miss Eunice Norton would know what the word 'fuck' means. Maybe I've got you all wrong, honey. Maybe you aren't cherry after all. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm sort of looking forward to that, because it's always messy when you're doing it for the first time as man and wife. Now, don't sit there starting at me like that. Here's the porter at the door."
"Ohhhh, why-you-you-" Eunice spluttered, at a loss for words for the first time in her sheltered young wife. But she sat down, fuming, magnificent pear-titties rising and falling in angry rhythm, while he leisurely rose and strode to the door of the compartment and opened it.
"Come in, boy. What's your name?"
The Negro porter, who was about fifty, portly, with a friendly plump face and horn-rimmed glasses, smiled at him.
"Benny, suh. At your service. Cain oh git you 'n re lady sompin for brekfus'?"
"I think so, Benny." Jack Mordaunt reached into his trousers and pulled out a fat wallet. He pulled out a bill and handed it to the porter. "I want you to see to it that we're your best customers, Benny."
"Yassuh. You don't have to worry none 'bout dat." The beaming porter pocketed the bill and bowed his thanks.
"I'd like a cantaloupe, or a honey dew would be better if you have it, oatmeal - oatment with lots of cream, good rich cream, Benny - an omelet with about five eggs - no, make it six eggs. And about a dozen very crisp slices of bacon. Don't let a drop of grease be on that bacon either."
"Yes sir."
"Let's see. A couple of English muffins toasted almost black, a plate of whole wheat toast, the same way. And a couple of pots of coffee. Oh, yes, and get me six of these Perfecto Garcias, the panatela size. Bring it right away, Benny."
The negro porter bowed and left the compartment.
"You might have consulted me as to what I like to eat in the morning, Mr. Mordaunt." Eunice's tone was icy.
"I suppose I might have," he cheerfully agreed. "But if you and I had been to bed last night and had a good fuck for ourselves, I'd be much more inclined to gratify your wishes, my dear girl. As it is, we're still strangers and you're going to do what I do, eat what I eat and like what I like. If you don't, you're going to be a mighty sorry girl."
"All I want is some coffee and white toast, done very light. Will you kindly ring for that porter and tell him. I'm certainly not going to eat all that food. It's still summertime and I have a very delicate stomach."
He put his hands on his knees and leaned toward her, a little smile on his lips. "A delicate stomach, eh? Well, I wonder if your cunt and your asshole are as delicate. Are they?"
For a moment she sat there staring at him, as though she had not heard him right. Then with a frantic cry of rage and desperation, she sprang up from her seat, strode him and slapped him viciously across the lips.
"You scoundrel! You infamous scoundrel! To talk such filth to a decent woman! Just because I'm your wife I don't have to take this sort of thing! So far as I'm concerned, Mr. Mordaunt, I don't have to put up with this sort of thing at all, do you hear?"
"Clearly, baby," he drawled. "Now go back and sit down, now that you've delivered your little oration. I'll see you after breakfast."
The porter knocked, opened the door and deferentially set up the table and laid out the breakfast. Eunice glared and Jack Mordaunt blithely ignored these storm signals. He was working on a storm of his own, though she didn't know it. He poured out half a cup of black coffee for her, picked up one of the least browned pieces of toast and shoved it over to her place.
"There. If you'd like some melon, ask me nicely."
"This will be quite enough. I'll ask you for nothing, Mr. Mordaunt," she answered coldly.
He shrugged his shoulders and ate with gusto. By the time the porter once again respectfully knocked at the door to remove the table and take away the dishes, Jack Mordaunt had completely finished everything the chef had prepared, much to Eunice's astonishment.
"Take it way, then come back here, if you will, Benny," he said.
"Yasshh. Yassuh. Right away."
In a few moments the Negro porter was back, looking wonderingly at his munificent patron.
"Close the door and lock it after you, Benny. I want you to be a witness."
"Yassuh." The porter did as he was told and stood inside wonderingly.
"Benny, we've just been married - yesterday afternoon."
"Well, dat sho am nice, boss! Ah hopes you 'n de liddle lady'll be real happy now."
"Oh, I'm sure we will, Benny, after she's had a little lesson on how to act. Can you imagine, she didn't care for this nice breakfast."
"Mr. Mordaunt," Eunice interrupted, trembling with fury, "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't air our private lives in front of a stranger."
"I'm going to air something else in just a minute, so keep your pants on while you still can, Eunice honey."
"Ohhh!" the scandalized brunette gasped, again not able to give credence to her senses.
"So," Jack continued, as if she had not interrupted, "ever since we got married, Eunice here has done nothing but nag at me and make one scene after another. Now, if you were married to a woman like that, you'd want to teach her a lesson, wouldn't you?"
The Negro looked askance at the beautiful brunette. "Now, ah don't rightly know, boss," he stammered.
"Well, I do, Benny. That's why I want to teach her a lesson. I notice you have a fly swatter in your hand, Benny."
"Yassuh. The others, they're complaining there's lots of flies on dis here train."
"I'll just borrow that. You stand there and watch. Eunice, come here to me and lie down over my lap. I'm going to give you a spanking for being such a nasty little bitch."
"Oh! You - you must be insane. Porter, did you hear what he said? Oh, the brute! The filthy beast! Stop this train at once, Porter! I want to go back to Asheville! As for you, Mr. Mordaunt, you'd better not show your face around there or my father will horsewhip you!"
Jack Mordaunt chuckled. Laying the fly swatter down to his right along the broad lounge seat of the compartment, he winked at the Negro porter and then swiftly seized Eunice by her wrists before she could divine his intention and deftly flung her down across his lap. Her body lay along the lounge seat, which was not quite long enough to permit the full extension of her voluptuous body.
"Ah think ah'd better go now," the porter said uneasily.
"Don't. You stay right where you are. I want a witness. There's twenty bucks in it for you, Benny and I'm not going to kill her. Just teach her a little common sense and respect," Jack Mordaunt.
Eunice shrieked her indignant fury and tried violently to roll off her husband's lap, but Jack Mordaunt, his arm around her waist, grabbed the pleated skirt with the other hand and roiled it up into a wad and fixed it with the arm so it wouldn't roll down and get in the way. Eunice gave another shriek of outrage.
"Oooohhh!!!! How dare you, in front of that nigger! Let me go, you dirty brute. You've no right, not in front of him! I'll kill you for this! My father will throw you in jail! Let me go - and pull my skirt back down!"
The Negro fidgeted, his eyes rolling. He had never seen anything like this in all his life. And somehow, he wanted to say, he didn't entirely believe in the twenty dollars Jack Mordaunt had promised him. But he didn't, for his eyes were riveted to the tossing, bounding backside of voluptuous Mr. Mordaunt; the two spacious, broadly firm and oval shaped hillocks of her virgin ass were jouncily and temptingly molded, snugly encased in the embrace of a pair of white silk panties, flounced with lace to the hem, which were modestly covering her upper thighs. Her flesh-covered nylons encased long, splendidly sculptured legs, beginning with the highest, sinuous calves whose rippling muscles told of her anguish and humiliation. Her dimpled, lovely hollows at the knees merged into spectacularly lissome thighs, velvet and nervously muscled. Between the tops of her stockings and the flounce of the panties, there was about an inch of creamy white flesh exposed, palpitating and shivering in the most voluptuous way. And clinging over it to secure the top of the stockings by a fastener, was a white elastic satin garter-belt.
She nearly managed to roll herself off his lap and Jack Mordaunt shifted her now, to let her legs dangle down towards the floor and promptly clamped his right leg over her calves, thus pinioning her firmly. He grabbed her left wrist as her hand thrust down to cover up her immodestly revealed backside and doubled her wrist back painfully, drawing a squeal of pain.
"Ahhhrrr - you're hurting me! Stop it! Stop it this minute! You detestable creature! You infamous beast - to shame a decent girl like this! Stop it, I tell you!"
"I'm not shaming you, Eunice. I'm chastising you. After you've had your lesson, you'll be amazed how pliable you're going to be. Of if you're not, well, you can always try and try again," Jack Mordaunt ironically retorted.
Now his left hand found the waistband of Eunice's panties and tugged at it. A long scream tore from the flabbergasted girl, as she realized what he was doing.
"Oh, not that! For God's sake, not in front of the nigger! I implore you! Stop it - Mr. Mordaunt! Oh my God, stop!"
"Well, well, well," Jack Mordaunt grinned as he kept her in suspense by tugging lasciviously at the waistband and watching how this traction jerked the thin clinging material of her panties up tightly along the sinuously wide cleft which led to her virgin asshole, "so it's Mr. Mordaunt now, is it? You're not quite so haughty now that you find you're dealing with a real man, are you, Eunice baby?"
And with this, to her wild, incredulous horror, with a single jerk of his strong right hand, he rucked down her panties to her knee-hollows, where they clung like a pinioning aureole of white fragile cloth, laying bare the magnificent creamy cheeks of her voluptuous virgin ass.
Eunice behaved like a demented creature, trying to free herself. Her free right arm flung up, madly groping, but in the position she was clamped in, with her other hand pinned back and held by his hand, her legs held by his strong ones, she was utterly helpless. All her struggling did was to jiggle the lovely naked white cheeks of her bare ass in the most fascinating manner and the negro porter's eyes gaggled to see peep out underneath, as her bare behind arched and wriggled and twisted, the thick black curls which framed the fascinatingly soft pink lips of her maiden cunthole.
His jaw dropped and he leaned forward to stare, quite unconscious of differences in race and station between himself and the helpless white beauty.
Jack Mordaunt noticed and chuckled. "That's it, Benny. Take it all in! I told you I wanted you to be a witness. She's going to get properly spanked and you'll get fifty bucks, not twenty, for staying around until she begs my pardon. Yes and yours, too, for making this little unnecessary domestic scene on the first day of our honeymoon."
"Aaaahhhhrrrrr!!! ohh, noooo!! For God's sake, pull my panties up! Oh, I'm going to die of shame! You dirty, filthy monster, to shame me in front of the nigger like this! Let me up, I tell you! Let me up!" she screamed, almost beside herself.
Jack Mordaunt's prick was throbbing vigorously now, inside his trousers, from the furious wriggling of Eunice's belly against his lap. His eyes drank in the contortions and the weavings and jerkings of her naked, creamy backside and the thought that he had at last this patrician and haughtily and prudish beauty at his mercy, with her naked ass and lovely legs exposed to the gleaming eyes of the Negro porter, transported him into a voluptuous paradise of lustful anticipation. For this was to be the first of many schemes he envisioned for the subjugation and the education of Eunice Norton.
CHAPTER 6
Realizing that he had completely mastered her and that all she could do was to twist and jerk her hips about from side to side and lunge with her free right arm ineffectually to cover up her shamefully denuded ass, Jack Mordaunt now passed to action. His right hand reached for the fly swatter, took a good grip on it and lowered the rectangular, flexible black rubber applicator till it grazed the naked flesh of his young wife's right asscheek. She stiffened convulsively at the ignominious feel of this humble and demeaning implement on her patrician naked flesh and uttered a long, hysterical wail:
"Noooo! Don't! For God's sake, not that! Oh, my God, not on the bare! Mr. Mordaunt, I beg of you, send the nigger away and pull up my panties! Oh, if you have to brutalize me, don't shame me enough to want to die!"
"You're not going to die, baby," he chuckled as he tapped her shrinking bottom cheeks with the fly swatter. "In fact, you're never going to be more alive than at this particular moment. Now let's see, how many swats does your big juicy ass deserve?"
"Ohhhh!" Into that one prolonged syllable Eunice Norton put all the horror and disbelief and gasped indignation of which she was capable.
"You're twenty years old, so I'd say one spank for every year of your snobbish, pampered life would be about right. Plus five extra for making such a noisy scene in front of Benny here. Now get that ass of yours ready, girl!"
As she lunged frenziedly to get away, he lifted the fly swatter and brought in down with a whistling Ptttt! The rectangular black rubber, flat applicator, which was perhaps a quarter of an inch thick, bit with an angry smack over the top of her right bottom cheek, leaving a bright red splotch like a kiss on that creamy virgin bottom which till this moment had never been so humiliatingly exposed before.
"Owwww! That hurts! You fiend - you monster! Let me go! You're going to jail for this! You'll see!" A tirade of frenzied, hysterical threats burst from Eunice's mouth.
"Benny, you keep count for yourself so I don't give Eunice here more than her due," Jack Mordaunt exhorted, "That's one." And he lifted the swatter and brought it down on her left asscheek. The sharp, crisp Swaaaccck!!!! of the rubber flap as it adhered to the creamy, firm flesh of the captive naked assglobe was in itself an obscene sound, but it was instantly drowned out by Eunice's wild scream:
"Aiiiii - eeeewwwww!! Stop it - stop it, I say! You're hurting me."
"That's two. And twenty-three left to go, baby," he mused as he studied the marks the instrument of spanking had left on the magnificent, firm, flawless canvas on her virgin ass. With a supreme effort of all her muscles, Eunice had managed to contract her ass muscles, hiding the sinuous, ambery furrow which separated those luscious hillocks. But because of the angle at which she lay, with the left side of her tear stained face forced almost against the lounge-seat and the spectacular uprearing of her condemned ass, she could not help showing the black, curly-ringleted orifice of her virgin cunthole to the Negro porter's dazzled and goggling eyes.
Jack Mordaunt trailed the limp fly swatter all over his wife's backside, to keep her in frantic suspense. Then he lifted it up and dealt her a stinging cracks which swept the rectangular rubber piece stingingly over both naked asscheeks, attacking them at their inner curves and bridging the shadowy curve between them. Her hips jerked convulsively and another piercing cry escaped her.
"EeeeeeoooowwwwwaaiiiiH! You're killing me! It hurts! You filthy, horrible beast! Let me go this minute!"
"You see?" Jack Mordaunt turned to look at the trembling Negro porter, whose eyes, as if hypnotized, were fixed on the beautiful, lunging naked posterior of this beautiful white captive, her satiny white skin obscenely barred by the three bright red splotches which clearly defined the outline of the fly swatter applicator. "She keeps on insulting me this way, I'll keep swatting you day long until you change your tune and get more humble, like a good, obedient wife should. Now get ready!"
The fly swatter swept down again over the top of her right hip. Then, after a pause of about ten seconds, bit against the left hip, with a reverse slight of his strong wrist. Every time it landed, Eunice's body jerked upwards and her hips executed a lewd and frantic wriggle from side to side, while wails of anguish tore from her panting mouth.
"Two! And here's three!" Jack Mordaunt counted as he delivered a ferocious swipe which bridged both pouting inner curves of her naked, wriggling ass, this time near the base of her behind. It drew the wildest, most strident cry of all.
"Well, that's better. I like to hear an uppity bitch like you say please. But you've earned this thrashing, baby it's going to get our marriage off to a proper start, so I'm afraid you'll just have to grin and bear it."
With this Jack Mordaunt applied another wicked swack of the fly swatter right over the tops of Eunice's bare bottom and very near the cheekbone. A pleading scream announced the efficacy of that stinging, burning spanks and his young wife turned her congested, tear-stained face toward him to intercede for mercy.
"Awwwwoooohhhhhaaarrrr, I can't stand it!! Oh, I can't, I can't! Let me go, you wicked, horrible beast!"
"That was four, Eunice honey, but you keep insisting on insulting me in front of Benny here. Get ready to count one all over again, Benny," and he brought the swatter down furiously against her upper right bottom cheek. She screamed and her body described frenzied contortious and wrigglings and again her right hand groped desperately toward her naked, flaming asscheeks. Jack Mordaunt now, deaf to his wife's pleas, applied the full twenty-five spanks he had promised her, starting with the last one which was the official "first". Deaf to her pleas and her frantic, hysterical supplications, watching with blazing eyes the leaping, twisting, yawning contortions of her furiously reddening ass, controlling her frantic struggles by wrenching her left wrist in his virile grasp, he did not stop until the full twenty-five "official" spanks had been doled out, covering her ass from the tops of her hips to the tops of her thighs with a fiery black-ground. Then he tossed the fly swatter to the porter, saying "Maybe I'd better buy this off you. Or, when we stop at the next station, Benny, see if you can buy one. It looks as if I'm going to have to use it for a while, until Eunice gets straightened out. Oh, here's your fifty bucks. Come back tonight and I'll give you a dinner order to bring here. Make it about six o'clock."
"Y-yassuh, boss," Benny wiped his sweaty for-head with his sleeve, pocketed the bill and fumbled with the door to open it and hurry out into the aisle of the train. He would never forget what he had just seen and he shook his head, musing inwardly that that sure was a scrumptious naked white ass he had just seen getting tanned. That Mr. Mordaunt was sure a man who knew how to treat an uppity gal! Maybe he ought to try the same trick on Peggy Starborton, his sweetie-pie back in Asheville. She had been giving him a hard time lately and maybe he could make her black ass wriggle under a good spanking and she would come around and spread her thighs and let a man fuck her properly instead of teasing him bone-hard and then not coming across...
CHAPTER 7
As the train, sped on to Amarillo, the clickety-clack of the wheels along the rails seemed to announce an inexorable doom for beautiful, arrogant Eunice Norton, who was now Eunice Mordaunt. Her husband of one day and one unconsummated night, chuckling to see her lewd nakedness and shame, watched her rub her bottom frantically with both hands, completely forgetting her innate modesty and thus revealing to him the thick black tendrils of her virgin cunthole. For Eunice, it was an earth-shattering revelation to discover that this boor, this disgusting adventurer whom she had treated so contemptuously only a few weeks before, was now not only her husband but had every legal right over her; and what was worst of all, had demonstrated that status by striping her practically naked before a Negro porter and then administering not only a humiliating but a very painful spanking on her bare patrician flesh.
Needless to say, Eunice had never been spanked in all her tender, patrician life. But now, without even being given respite to soothe her hurts-for her bottom felt swollen to twice its natural size, which of course it was not-she now discovered that Jack Mordaunt intended to fuck her then and there and thus consummate the marriage just as he had said.
Obscenely, glootingly, he had unbuttoned his trousers and his shorts and revealed his prick, hard and rugged and empurpled with lust, which seeing her wriggle over his knees while was spanked, had evoked. His left arm circled her waist, his right hand cupped one of her titties, giving it affectionate little squeezes from time to time, while his lips brushed over her bare arms, the lovely stretch between shoulder and neck and then he said: "You asked for this, so I don't feel the least bit sorry, Eunice. You went out of your way to show me contempt. That little talk we had just before we were married was to let me know the marriage was just to save your father and that I could have you in name only and you thought I agreed to that. Now you see how wrong you are. When a man marries a girl, Eunice baby, he takes a possession of everything she's got that nature gave her, including her soul. Your cunt, your asshole, your mouth, your titties, your sweet white thighs, your belly-button, your armpits-I'm going to show you more ways than you ever dreamed of being fucked. And I'm going to start right now by making you a woman."
"Oh, pl-please, Jack! Not like this! For God's sake, won't you take pit on me-Please let me rest a little-I hurt so. Please, let me rest a little. I-I'm so ashamed. I've never been naked before a man, like this, before."
"I want you now and you're going to get it now. Otherwise, it's back over my lap. Maybe you'd prefer that."
He pretended to grasp her waist with both hands, preparatory to turning her back over his knees, but Eunice cried out, "Oooohhh, no! Please, not that! No more, no more! But for God's sake at least pull the shades down! I'm dying of shame!"
"This shame is just false modesty, baby. Before the honeymoon's over, you're going to learn to get rid of it. Yes, baby, before I'm through with you, you're going to come crawling on your knees and beg me to fuck you."
"Ohh-you-you filthy, contemptible, despicable-" Her rebellion flared up once more. No girl of Eunice's breeding and sensitively could, as he had shrewdly guessed, remain passive all this while and take all these insults without wanting to strike back. So when she tried to slap him and to wriggle off his lap, he simply grasped his left thumb and forefinger over her left nipple and tweaked it viciously, while his thumb and right forefinger caught a black spring of pussy-hair and pulled.
"Just try that again, honey and you're going to be most awfully score and it won't be from fucking. Now open that fist and put both hands behind your back and twine your fingers together. That's it. You're a regular spitfire, aren't you, you sweet little black-haired bitch?"
His left hand now grasped her wrists and maintained them against her back and thus all her naked torso, titties and cunt alike, were vulnerable to the lewd and gloating caresses of his right hand. He prolonged her torment to what seemed an eternity of shame.
"If you aren't nice, now," he warned, "I'm going to call Benny and have him hold you down while I fuck you. Don't look at me like that! There's nothing you can do about it. And we're going to Mexico, where there are very different divorce laws from what you've got in Asheville. Just remember that. You can play this one of two ways, honey. Either cooperate and submit and learn how to live all over again, as if you were a baby girl just born with a tutor to guide you-that's me-or fight me every step of the way and not be able to sit down for months. No matter what you do, you're going to get fucked. Because a wife always gets fucked on her honeymoon. So once and for all, get it out of your cunning little head that you're going to tell the conductor or the porter to stop the train because I'm raping you. They'd just laugh at you. All right, now get ready to get into that bed!"
He had already commanded this prelude of her and she was sick with loathing and despair. Now, feverishly, sensing how it went against her very grain to perform these provocative and shameless little tricks which were more suited to a whore house than to the connubial bedchamber the first time, Jack Mordaunt continued to fondle her naked body to his heart's content. He even went too far to squeeze both her flaming and throbbing bottom-cheeks, drawing forth wails and entreaties not to hurt her like that.
Now the ferocious rubbing of his prick had rendered it unmanageable. He pulled her up by the elbows and stood facing her, himself fully clothed except that his massive organ protruded from his pants.
"Now put your arms around me. That's the way. Get ready to be fucked, Eunice baby."
He could feel her shudder, hear the catch of her tremulous breath and he could see the shiverings and cringings of her thighs and belly. He put his left hand to her bottom, the fingertips sinking into the warm, spanked flesh, until she winced. With his right hand he pressed open her soft pussylips and at the same time advanced the swollen meatus. Eunice's teeth began to chatter and she groaned, "Not like this. I beg of you, in God's name, don't shame me. Don't use me like-like-"
"Like a whore? But every wife's a whore one time or another, baby," he jocked hoarsely. "The whore takes money to fuck: the wife does the same thing, except she stays with the guy longer and takes more of it-both in terms of-both in terms of dough and spunk. So what's the difference? Now it might hurt a little tiny bit this first time, but that can't be helped. After your cherry's popped, Eunice, it'll be a lot easier. You might even get to enjoy it."
"Oh my God. Oh, ah, oh stop it! Oh, you dirty, filthy, horrible man-I don't want you to-Oh, Father, help me. He's trying to Eiiiiii-eeeaaahh"
She tried to jerk away, but his fingers had pried open her cuntlips and inexorably followed her, pinching them to be sure her obedience. As she writhed, she felt a savage prickhead jab between the gaped-apart lips and thrust against the virgin barrier, her maiden cherry. Her lips curled back in a rictus of shame and horror; she tried to push at his shoulders with his hands, to avert her face. She called on her poor father to appear through some miracle to prevent this. All in vain.
Feeling himself planted to the brink of her membrane, Jack Mordaunt sank both his hands into the soft, warm tingling cheeks of her well-spanked behind and with a grunt, gave his loins a savage jerk. A prolonged wail, despairing and sobbing and hysterical, announced the rending of Eunice's maidenhead. He felt himself break through that virgin shield and burrow in her cunthole. The walls of that virgin channel of hers began instinctively to grasp and hold him, but their very slippings and nippings restored him for the next day.
"Do you feel me inside your cunthole? Do you feel what fucking is like now, you was unaware. He felt his wife's face twist away, contorted with revulsion and pain. He felt her hands pushing him away, but he didn't care. He was in Eunice's cunthole, the first time any man had ever visited there! With a savage lunge, he entered to the very balls. Another wild sobbing cry burst from his love-captive. Her head now bowed, her eyes downcast, she could not restrain the tears. One of his fingers slid into the narrow valley between her bottom cheeks to find her little asshole and to tickle it. But Eunice had already received the supreme stimulus: the mighty weapon which had traversed her cunthole gouging it intolerably, wasn't dormant, by any manner of means.
With long, deep, harrowing thrusts, Jack Mordaunt fucked his beautiful young wife. Eunice Mordaunt sank in his arms, nearly fainting at the twinging stab of torment that flashed through her tight, just-deflorated cunt-cannel. Tears flowed unchecked down her swollen, congested cheeks and her breath fell and rose with turbulence as he spoke.
In all his life, he had never tasted such bliss as he now felt. Never had his prick enjoyed so tight a housing, so tight a fit. But the most exciting thing of all was the apparent deep revulsion he could read on her face, inscribed on the maneuvers which her shrinking body tried to get away from him. Even the way her ass-muscles tightened when he was digging his fingers into her juice heinie of hers told him he was the last man on earth so far as Eunice was concerned. In fact, it became more pleasurable to rape her, to hold her and fuck her, to dig his prick in to the very hilt within that restricted cunny where no man had ever been before.
He wanted to do many more things to her, but he wisely decided she had had enough shock for one day. Quickening his thrusts, he felt the spunk well up in him till finally he could restrain it no longer. With a cry, he let the spunk flow out, deep into her cunthole.
And then, just as she felt the gush of his violent spunk jet deep into her womb, he heard an apologetic knock on the compartment door. Eunice uttered a shriek of mortification and tried desperately to pull away, but he shook his head and by the pinching clutch of his fingers against her velvety ass, warned her not to make a sound.
"Who is it?" he called.
"It's Benny, boss. Just wanted know if you wanted anything now,"
"Not now, thanks, Benny. I'll take care of you this evening. No, we're fine. The little wife and I are making up, if you know what I mean."
There was a chuckle from the other side of the compartment door.
"Ah shore does, boss! look laike to me dat little spanking you done give her wid de fly swatter worked wonders. Hee, hee, hee!"
Eunice's face was purple with mortification to hear herself so openly discussed, so ignominiously treated in the presence of a man who was no better than a valet. Oh, it was unthinkable. But her cunt was aching.
She wanted to go to the bathroom, but she didn't dare pull away from him. She was really afraid of him.
"How you-how could you tell him a thing like that?" she quavered.
"Why, you stupid little bitch, don't you know newly married couples are supposed to, fuck at the drop of a hat whenever they're along together. If we hadn't been doing it, it sure would have looked mighty queer. Now shut up and get your mind on your wifely duties. This is your first lesson. How did you like the feel of my prick inside your cunt, Eunice?"
She shuddered violently and groaned in despair. Jack Mordaunt released her, guided her to the big survived chair and helped her sink down into it. The agitational turmoil of her overwrought emotions-even more than the physical duress-brought about the complete annihilation of her will and ire and punitive desires for retribution.
She would never regain them. She didn't know it, but once she got to Mexico, she was really going to be a slave, just as women had been intended to be in the old days before they gave them the vote.
CHAPTER 8
At Amarillo a swarthy, stocky black-haired man with a thick moustache awaited them, sombrero in hand. It was Luis Delgado, the foreman of his ranch. Luis was paunchy, but with tremendous muscular strength, as several peons who had tried to pick a quarrel with him had found to their sorrow. He was expert with a knife, with a lasso and he was also an expert in bed. He was a man of forty, with little education but a shrewd cunning mind, typical of peasants who have to fight for their survival and wring their food from the land. Jack Mordaunt had met him in a tavern in the suburbs of Mexico City the year he had bought the ranch and having observed how Luis held off five would-be assailants by simply using a chair and his own superb strength, he had made Luis a proposition of being foreman of the ranch.
Luis had a great deal of admiration for this gringo, once he had discovered that Jack Mordaunt liked cunt as much as he did and if anything, had far more experiences in the upper strata of pussy, the kind Luis in his economic circumstances could never hope to fuck. He had taken to the ranch as a duck takes to water and made a good profit with it, raising cattle and growing some crops which the fertile soil made thrive.
As for Dolores, the mother had been an Indian and her father a Mexican mule driver. The product of this unlikely had become a passionate, fiery, swarthy-skinned magnificent Venus - or rather, almost an Amazon, for Dolores was in her twenty-sixth year, five feet seven and a half inches in height, with a slim waist that two hands could nearly span and a magnificently supple set of hips; upstandingly rounded asscheeks, two cantaloupe-like titties set closely together and high-perched on her magnificent chest. She wore her thick black hair-even blacker than Eunice's-in an upsweep, with two thick curls dangling from the back of her head, to each of which a ribbon bow was tied. This was the mark of the gringo, she claimed; it symbolized to the aspiring peons who would give a month's pay to fuck her, that she was already spoken for and had an Americano for her lover. Dolores had been Jack Mordaunt's mistress for about six years. He had found her in a crib in a little town in Guadalupe where she had been sold by her stepfather after she had proudly and ferociously refused to go to bed with him. Several whippings with a strap had not broken her fiery spirit, so he had slipped a drug into her milk and when she was asleep, dragged her off to the crib and sold her to the bordello owner for a hundred pesos, plus the stipulation that he be allowed to fuck her free of charge once a week for two months, a stipulation which the avaricious whorekeeper willingly agreed to in view of Dolores's fiery, seemingly untamable nature. But the first time her stepfather had shown up to claim his part of the payment, Dolores hadn't understood this at all and had kneed him in the crotch, putting him out of commission for a good long while. Later, as he lay bellowing in his agony, he had ordered the bordello keeper to whip the side off her and she had been dragged, fighting and clawing and kicking, by three men who worked as bouncers for the house, down to the cellar where, hung up by the thumbs, she was about to be flogged with mule-whips-when Jack Mordaunt, by a stroke of luck, strolled into the whorehouse to find a little pussy for distraction. He caught sight of Dolores as the three men dragged her down the stairs and in the melee which followed, followed unnoticed the little procession to the cellar. When he saw them strip away her dress and then her panties and one of the men obscenely goosed her, another pinched her nipples and a third poked at the thick, crisp, black curls of her cunthole, Jack had gone into action. He broke the jaw of one of the bouncers, kneed another in the crotch and disarmed another of a knife which he turned back into his assailant, thus wounding the man with a sharp but not mortal belly wound. Then he had cut Dolores down, given her back her dress and panties and carried her out of the house. When the owner remonstrated, he handed the man three one-hundred peso notes and said that he was buying her.
That night Dolores lost her virginity and gained a permanent lover. In her gratitude and admiration for Jack Mordaunt's display of prowess and courage, there was nothing she would not do for him. She sucked, she fucked, she loved to be buggered after a playful spanking and she also, for his delectation, when he once spent a vacation of three months down at the ranch, had Luis bring in peasant girls from the area and she herself took part in a Lesbian orgy until the sight of the entwined naked bodies made Jack suddenly seize her partners or herself for an appeasing fuck.
It was understood to Dolores and Luis, while they might pursue their own pleasures, might not have anything to do with each other. Jack Mordaunt had laid this down as a law and once, when he had caught Dolores putting her hand inside Luis' trousers and fondling his big, dirty prick, he had turned her over his lap and given her such a bottom-warming with a hairbrush that she had tearfully promised never to do so again. At the moment, Luis had a seventeen-year-old mistress named Rosita, a flashing-eyed beauty who was as wanton as Dolores in her own way, who lived with him in a little cottage near the hacienda which Jack occupied with his beautiful Mexican-Indian sweetheart. He had, in fact, just left Rosita's arms to drive to the railroad station to meet his employer.
"Luis, this is my wife, Eunice."
"Senora, I am enchanted. What a beautiful gringa! Senor Mordaunt, I felicitate you. As always, you show the finest of taste. I am ready to drive you and the Senora to the ranch."
"And how the things go there?"
Luis shrugged fatalistically. "Bueno, bueno. This year, the cattle are eating well and there is plenty of grass, but the price is not good. I am thinking perhaps I should finish them corn and wait until the price goes up. That big restaurant, the Servador, in Mexico City, wants prime beef. Maybe they will pay a little bit extra, what do you think eh?"
"Not a bad idea. I've plenty of money anyway, so it doesn't matter what the ranch does this year. Let's go."
When he had got off the train at the stop before Amarillo, Jack Mordaunt had sent his faithful foreman a wire in code, using Spanish words since Luis was not a particularly good linguist in Jack's tongue. Luis was to plead a sudden emergency back at the hacienda, or perhaps in his own family, although he had none except Rosita and leave them there at the border to find their way to the ranch alone. Jack Mordaunt had something in mind.
So, after a few hours, once they had gone through customs, Luis turned to his employer and shook his head. "The car, she break down soon, I think. Dolores is very sick - Rosita too. I think it is fever, Patron. Maybe I better go ahead. You two don't want to drive so fast. I see somebody at the garage, I get them to send a car. All right?"
"Sure, Luis." He winked at his foreman. "Eunice and I aren't in any hurry to get to our new home, are we, Eunice? All this scenery and the mesquite and the river and the little huts? It's the first time she's seen Mexico, Luis. We're going to make it a memorable time for her, aren't we?"
"Everything is in readiness at the hacienda, Senor Jack. Dolores, she will cook a feast for your homecoming. But what she do when she finds you have a wife already, Senor Jack?"
Eunice Mordaunt glanced curiously at her husband. Who was this Dolores and why was Dolores, obviously a servant, to have any right to express feeling as to whether her employer got married or not?
Her unspoken question went unanswered, for Jack Mordaunt nodded, lit a cigar and bade Luis send a mechanic from the garage with a rental car, telling his foreman to offer as an inducement a fifty dollar bill. Luis drove off with a wave of his hand, promising that the hacienda would be in fine condition once the Senora and Senor Mordaunt arrived.
"I don't understand, Jack," Eunice said coolly, "Why couldn't we have gone back with him? I don't mind fast driving and don't like this desert country, really. It's so desolate."
"Don't forget that Santa Ana killed a few thousand Texan's at the Alamo for looking down on this desolate land, baby," he chuckled. "I'll admit it's not the best cattle-raising land in the world and it's only the start of the Border, but where the ranch is there's plenty of green and a little creek, and plenty of peace and quiet. We're going to have a wonderful honey moon there, huh, baby?"
With this calmly put his hand over her breasts. Eunice gave a little gasp, glanced up and down the street hastily, pushed his hand away and whispered sibilantly, "For God's sake, Jack, stop doing things like that to me in public! You make me so ashamed when you do! Why can't you treat me decently?"
"I'm not going to start a public argument right now, not in front of a lot of Mexicans who probably don't understand English. In this country, Eunice, the man is king of the camp and the woman is there to serve him. It's a pretty good philosophy and that's one reason I've spent a lot of vacations down here. Ah, there comes the car Luis sent to us."
The transaction was quickly completed. The young driver, who had a guitar strung around his neck and who looked somewhat effeminate, agreed to take the Senor and Senora Mordaunt to the ranch for a fee of eighty-five pesos. Jack Mordaunt nodded, smiled, opened his imposing wallet and counted out the requisite pesos, adding five as a tip with a promise of five more if they made it by the end of the day or at least early in the morning of the day.
"Are there any towns between here and my ranch?" Jack Mordaunt asked.
"Si senor. There is Mortamalo, about fifteen miles from here. Does the Senor want to stop there? We will not arrive at the ranch until very late in the day, perhaps when the moon is already up. Does the Senor mind?"
"Not in the least. Make a stop at Mortamalo. I have to send a wire."
Eunice sat silently beside her husband in the back seat of the old Ford station wagon as it rumbled down the road. Her lips tight and her eyes were narrowed with disapproval. She wished with all her heart and soul that vile honeymoon would be over. Where he take her after that? Where would he live permanently?
Jack sat back silently, his arms folded across his chest, a smile on his face. He was so excited he could hardly contain. At Mortamalo he would make a few phone calls. He had once tried to sell a radio script of his own to a Mexico City station. They had been very complimentary, though they not bought it. Since then, the theatrical bug had bitten him. And he still had the script-its idea could be adapted to fit Eunice in as heroine!
Arrived in Mortamalo, he left Eunice in the car and went to enjoy another glass of cavada that excellent Mexican brew which quenches thirst as does little else in Mexico. The bartender set a frosty bottle before him at a sign and eyeing him, when Jack Mordaunt nodded, poured out a drink for himself and one for Jack, fortunately not raising too much foam, which Jack detested.
CHAPTER 9
Jack Mordaunt made his beautiful young brunette wife get into the car and lighting one of his perennial cigars, got in behind her and drove off. Eunice didn't notice that he took a shortcut to the left, while Luis had gone off to the right.
This section of the Mexican countryside, just past the border, was primitive indeed, with hardly any inhabitants except scattered little farms with a few scrawny cattle grazing nearby and Eunice shivered, perhaps from some presentment of the unknown. Never before had felt so desperately alone, in another country and far from her home and the devotion of her father and she realized the terrible brooding reality of her marriage. The black-haired man who sat beside her, his eyes on the road, his hands tightly griping the wheel, had plunged her into nightmarish new life, the consequences of which she could only conjecture and the first contacts of which had been destructively repugnant to her fastidious and selfish nature. Viewed in the light of day, it seemed almost impossible that only a few hours before she had been stretched out naked across his lap, her panties tugged down to bare her naked posterior before the eyes of a Negro porter and spanked like a child, with the added humiliation or having a fly swatter applied to her naked flesh. And then the domineering and brutal manner of his possession of her; even when she had considered sex - and there had been moments earlier in her girlhood - she had thought of it as a kind of hymeneal rapture, full of happiness and tenderness and woo, which would follow an exquisite ceremony of union. But the marriage at the city hall, then the brisk boarding of the train, then the shocking slaps and the spanking made atrociously public before a Negro menial and finally the actual shattering loss of her virginity. All these things had been accomplished and she had to succumb to them because he was the stronger and his will was imposed upon her. As she thought of it, her cheeks flamed, remembering how he had stood against her, his hands brutally gripping her trembling body, while his sexual organ had forged between her thighs, pierced her maidenhead and inflicted its sullying taint of his inconsiderate lust upon her person.
Jack Mordaunt, well aware of his young wife's emotions and recriminations, drove on, puffing at his cigar, much to Eunice's disgust. She would glance at him from time to time, her lips curling and her dainty nostrils flaring at the strong aroma of the Havana tobacco. He did not say word to her but drove straight on. Finally, feeling the pies-sure of nature's needs, she hesitantly asked, "Could-could we stop somewhere, maybe at a filling station? I-I'd like to get a drink of water."
He gave her an ironic glance. "You still haven't learned to be frank and honest, have you, baby? What you really mean is that you want to take a piss, or maybe do Number Two for yourself. Come right out and say things, so I know what you mean Eunice. That's the only way you and I are ever going to get along harmoniously. However, for your information, there isn't a filling station for another fifteen miles. But don't worry - you can always go into the bushes. Only I'll have to pick the place, because when you squat down, you might land that lovely white ass of yours on some cactus thoras."
"Ohhh!!! You - you purposely go out of your way to be vulgar and disgusting. I could die!"
"You won't die, you'll just do it in your panties. And if you do, I'll have to treat you the way a mother or father treats a naughty baby that's had toilet training and forgotten, which would mean a good sound spanking on the bare ass," he blithely announced.
Eunice closed her eyes and ground her teeth, in baffled rage at hearing this commentary. But nonetheless, the pressures in her bladder began to mount and after another five miles, she began to squirm uneasily in her seat, nervously biting her lovely lips. Jack Mordaunt, quite aware of what was taking place, grinned and lit his second cigar. Finally it was too much; Eunice burst out.
"For God's sake, you know how I detest those filthy cigars! They stink so! Won't you please have the courtesy to stop smoking in my presence?"
"No. Any other questions?"
"You-you are just what you were from the very first, a nasty, hateful boor!"
She did not read the danger signals in the narrowing of his eyes and the tightening of his lips, but, furiously eloquent at all the remembered shame and martyrdom piled up, she went on,
"Not once have you been decent to me or given a single thought of my own needs and feelings. I don't see how you expect me ever to love you, if there is such a word in your vocabulary. You browbeat, humiliate and shame me constantly. You make me feel like a cheap woman who puts up with the worst possible treatment just because she gets what she needs - money. I'll never forgive you for this, Jack Mordaunt - never!"
"If all this is leading up to your telling me you can't hold it back any more, baby," he looked at her and gave her a sarcastic smile, "you just as well might tell me what's on that pretty mind of yours. Shall I stop here? There's plenty of mesquite which would hide you if you squat down real low. I can give you some Kleenex to wipe yourself. Well?"
Eunice groaned, but did not answer. Again she bit her lips and turned her face away. Jack Mordaunt shrugged and went back to his cigar. But after another two miles, the tension was unbearable. She had kept her thighs so they touched together, but just the same the burning pressure mounted, making her calves and thighs strain and her whole backside ache with the repressed urge, until finally, in despair, hoping he wouldn't see, she put a hand over her crotch and ground her teeth together.
Jack saw it at once and turned to her. "You'd better not wet the car seat, baby, or I'll really lay it on that sweet ass of yours. Now, like a good girl, tell me what you want to do."
"D-damn you! You contemptible, filthy, vulgar brute! Of course I have to go to the bathroom. You know perfectly well I do! And you take a sadistic delight in torturing me."
"I torturing you?" he feigned thunderstruck innocence. "I told you I'd be happy to stop anywhere you wanted if you had to piss. Do you?"
"Let me out."
"I stopped for that purpose. Do you want some Kleenex?"
"You - you go to hell!" Eunice almost burst into tears as she got out of the car. But her cheeks were burning and her eyes stung with tears as she heard him call out, "That's cactus over to your right, so don't go over there, or you'll come back with a bare tail full of stingers. Over there - that's mesquite."
At that moment Eunice Mordaunt would gladly have fallen dead and not cared whether the buzzards flying above fed on her lifeless body. The thought of spending years of wifehood with this boor was absolute anathema to her. Nevertheless, by how the need was torturing, so she moved towards the huge clump of mesquite, only to hear his mocking laughter from the car. Hitching up her dress and pulling down her panties, she sought to alleviate the distress, but even though he couldn't see her, the knowledge that he knew where she was and what she was doing made her weep with rage. At least she came back to the car, her face very pale and her eyes swollen with tears and got in beside him.
"I wonder what you used to wipe yourself, baby," he ventured. Eunice closed her eyes and clenched her hands so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned white. "Oh, now you're going to give me the silent treatment, eh? Very well - suit yourself."
"How - how much farther from here is your ranch?" she dully asked.
"I'd say a couple of hours. The road I'm taking skirts Mexico City to the east and saves us a little time. We might actually beat Luis, except of course he's going at a faster clip. Why? Getting hungry?"
"No, thank you."
He started up the car, a mocking little smile hovering about his lips. His cigar went out half a dozen times and he had to slow down and relight it, much to Eunice's disgust. The country now became rugged, low hills, rocks and huge boulders decorated the sides of the road and a pass between two towering hills loomed up ahead of them. The sky had darkened; a sudden thunder storm was coming and Eunice shuddered, her earlier presentment becoming a stronger fear.
He drove on. The two hills approached like vigilant sentries and he slowed his speed to take the winding curves between them. Then, just as they were about to emerge onto open terrain again, there was a sound of a revolver shot.
"My God, what was that?" Eunice blurted, her eyes very wide as she leaned to look out of the window.
"Sounded like a gunshot to me, baby. Maybe somebody shot at a buzzard."
"Oh - Oh my God, look!" She pointed to their right. Three men stood across the road, each leveling a pistol at the oncoming car. The man in the middle, beared, bulky, held up his other hand and gestured to them to stop. Jack slowed the car, then halted. The three men moved up to take their places, the beared man who was evidently the leader, standing in front of the car and covering Jack and Eunice with his revolver, while his companions moved to stand on either side of the automobile.
"What do you want?" Jack Mordaunt demanded.
"Dinero, amigo," the man beside his window chuckled. He was short, wiry, with furtive little eyes that shifted constantly back and forth from Jack to Eunice, his face swarthy, with a scar on his left cheek, probably that of a knife wound.
"All I have are traveler's checks, which aren't any good to you, amigo," Jack Mordaunt pleasantly responded. "And maybe thirty dollars in my wallet, American money. You won't be able to cash the checks, though."
"Both of you step out of the car, pronto!" the man with the scar commanded in heavily accented English and he waved his gun to enforce obedience.
Eunice's eyes were wide with terror. The man on her side of the car was grinning at her. He was about her own height, quite fat, with a thick drooping moustache, obscenely full sensual mouth and a broad nose from which a veritable forest of hairs seemed to sprout. He gestured with his gun.
"Come out, Senorita. Pedro wants to see how are put together. I speak pretty good English, no?"
"Better do as he says, Eunice," Jack Mordaunt whispered. "These are probably bandits. They'd just as soon kill you as look at you."
Trembling with fear, Eunice slowly opened the door of the car and got out. The man calling himself Pedro grasped her by the wrist and chuckled.
"Carramba. Here is a real nice gringo compadres. Maybe we keep her if the senor has no dinero!"
The man with the beard shoved his sombrero back and squinted at Eunice. Then he turned to Jack. "Maybe you have friends, senor, who pay ransom so you go free?"
"We're on our honeymoon, going to Mexico City," Jack Mordaunt responded. "I told your friend all I have is traveler's checks and you can't cash them. I gave you my watch and the thirty dollars American I have."
"Honeymoon? Carramba." the bearded man chuckled nastily, then bowed low to Eunice with a wide sweep of the dirty sombrero. "Senora, this is indeed a happy occasion for us bandidos, to meet so beautiful a gringa who travels to Mexico. It is, how you say it, romantic, si, si."
"Gonzales, we better take them to the little hut of old Diego, there we can talk what we are going to do with them," the man with the scar said.
The beared man, responding to the name of Gonzales, nodded. "A good idea, Hernando. We all get in the car and we drive off the road to this little place. No tricks. We know how to use these pistoles." He waved his menacingly at Jack Mordaunt.
"Better do what they say, baby," Jack whispered to the trembling brunette. "Get into the car and don't say anything to attract attention to yourself. I shouldn't have said we were on our honeymoon; it might give them ideas."
"Ideas?" Eunice quavered as she climbed in beside him. "Will they hold us for ransom? Oh my God, what are we going to do?"
"I'll try to talk them out of it, honey. Just your mouth shut."
The three Mexican bandits had climbed onto the rear of the car and the one called Gonzales prodded Jack's neck with his revolver. "All right, Senor Gringo. When you go past he hills, you turn this car of yours to the right and you will see in the distance a little hut and an old barn. They belonged to a peon named Diego Escontada, but he was bitten by a tarantula and died last year. So I Pedro and Hernando, use this as our hiding place and we wait for gringos like you, senor."
Jack Mordaunt steered the car off the road and over the stretch of land which appeared once to have been farm land. There was more grass and off to the right a stagnant little creek. At last they approached the hut and Gonzales again prodded Jack's neck with his gun and ordered, "Now both of you pronto out!"
Eunice got out of the car and fat Pedro, playing with his moustache, chuckled amicably. "Hola, Senora, it is first time I see such a lovely gringa! You have very white skin. Pedro, he likes that a lot!"
He prodded her back with the muzzle of his revolver, adding, "I do not wish to shoot you, Senora, it would grieve me if had to. So walk very slowly straight ahead and do not make any sudden moves, because Pedro is very excitable and this one, she go off with a loud noise when she shoots!"
Eunice cast a pleading, piteous look at her husband, but Jack Mordaunt and Gonzales' orders, was walking with both hands up in the air and the wiry little man with the scar was also at his side, holding his gun.
CHAPTER 10
It was a large adobe hut, with two rooms. The doorway to the other part of the hut was simple made by not completing the middle thick mud wall. And the section which they entered through the main door, which was still another passage left uncompleted and covered by a faded and rotting kind of matting. There was a battered wooden chair and a table which bore the marks of bottles whose damp bottoms had left permanent stains along the marred surface. There was a thick, dirty serape in a corner, evidently a kind of blanket which served as cot for the deceased occupant of this rude and primitive dwelling.
Herded into the hut, Jack and Eunice stood together and for the first time since her marriage, Eunice's terror made her huddle against her husband and looking up at him, whisper, "My God, how long are they going to keep us here?"
"I don't know. Let me do the talking."
"Oh, yes - I'm afraid of them! Are - are they really bandits?"
"In this wild part of the country, the peons can't make a living from farming - you've seen how bad the land is - and they turn to stealing whenever they can. It's a very profitable way. Sometimes if they belong to big bands, they can hold people for ransom and get a lot of money."
This news did not make Eunice any happier and she shivered when she saw the bearded Gonzales smile at her and once more, ironically, remove his sombrero and bow low. Then he spoke.
"We do not have too much time, Senora, so I will talk to your esposo and see if he can pay enough so that we cause you no distress. Otherwise -" he left the sentence unfinished, but shrugged as he moved toward Jack.
"What's on your mind, amigo?" Jack Mordaunt tried to be casual.
"Why, it is this, senor. My friends Pedro and Hernando need money, it is true, but Pedro has taken a fancy to your beautiful Senora. How much can you give us if I manage to hold Pedro off? If it is enough, perhaps we could go to Mexico and there Pedro can fuck one of the pupes, the good looking ones whose price is many pesos."
"I told you all I have is thirty dollars cash and my watch."
"I do not think that is enough, senor. I am desolate. Hernando, take the Senor's money; as he says, the traveler's checks are of no use to us. They would lead the policia to us much too quickly."
The wiry little bandit with the scar held out his hand and Jack Mordaunt took out his wallet, extracted the bank notes and handed them over to him. Then he unstrapped his expensive Swiss wrist watch and gave that to Hernando also.
"What about you, Senora?" Gonzales pursued. "Have you any dinero?"
"No-no. I don't. Oh, please let us go," she stammered, her heart pounding wildly.
"I do not think it is enough. Verdad, it is truly not enough. Pedro would spend it all on the pupes and there would be nothing left for Hernando and myself. I am very much afraid, Senora, that we must let you entertain us to buy yourself freedom."
"What - what do you mean?" Eunice quavered, her eyes enormous pools of consternation.
"You bastards, let her go! Don't touch her, do you hear? When I get to Mexico City, I'll have you hunted down and hanged if you lay a finger on her."
"I do not propose to lay a finger on her, as you say," Gonzales chuckled as he began to unbutton his pants, "but I think this is much better for the senora. Besides, as you have told me, she is on her honeymoon and is no doubt eager to feel a man who is much an hombre with good cojones."
Eunice uttered a cry of disgust and terror and recoiled. Hernando had just revealed a formidable prick, the head obscenely red, the shaft gnarled with heavy dark blue veins surging up against the taut skin.
"If you'll send one of your men to Mexico City to a bank where I have an account, you'll get money, but let my wife go," Jack Mordaunt said hoarsely.
"I regret, Senor, that we don't have the time. We are poor men and we do not believe in fairy tales. What is before us, we take. That is the simplest way. Pedro, Hernando, I think the senor is going to be unhappy in a few minutes because we appreciate his beautiful gringa wife. So let us give him a place of honor at the festival."
With this, as he trained his gun on Jack, the others nodded. The two other Mexicans seized Jack, dragged him to the battered chair, forced him down in it. Hernando took the lasso attached to his heavy brown leather belt and swiftly bound Eunice's virile husband to the chair, passing it round and round his chest, under his armpits, around his waist and finally making it fast around his ankles and tying a double knot at the end.
"Better silence his mouth, or he'll make so much noise it'll distract us when we make love to his lovely Senora," Gonzales chuckled.
"You dirty bastards, you touch my wife and you all hang! I'll personally see to it! Let her go, I tell you!" Jack Mordaunt cried, struggling uselessly in his bonds.
Fat Pedro thrust his hands into his pants and drew out a dirty handkerchief, which he came forward to cram into Jack Mordaunt's mouth. Then taking the bandana handkerchief knotted around his fat neck, he placed it over Jack's mouth and knotted it around Jack's neck, thus effectively silencing the pinioned captive.
Eunice, her eyes supremely dilated, her palms against the back of the heavy, thick mud wall, shrank herself as the three Mexicans turned to stare at her.
"What - what are you - are you going to do to me?" she faltered, her voice breaking in her terror.
"Well, Senora," Gonzales calmly responded, "when one is on one's honeymoon, one makes love, no es verdad. And as you see, nature has given the good cojones for this purpose." He gestured toward his stiff, swollen prick, which pointed directly at the horrified brunette.
"Oh my God, Jack, he - he's going to rape me!" Eunice cried hysterically. "Oh no, no, don't let him. For God's sake, Jack, help me. I'm your wife! Oh my God, don't let them hurt me."
Jack Mordaunt fought against his gag and bonds, but only a sputtering, muffled sound emerged. The chair was heavy, the lasso solid and its windings around his body completely paralyzed him.
"How shall we do this, Gonzales?" The wiry little Hernando began to unbutton his own pants and emerged his own cock. It was longer than Gonzales', with a broad, plum-shaped head that looked huger and more obscene because it was set off from the shaft by a deep, broad circumsional groove.
"Perhaps we should ask the Senora whom she prefers first?" Gonzales laughed.
"No! Oh God, you're not going to do th-that to me. Jack, help me! They - they're going to rape me - all of them - oh, you horrible filthy brutes - to show me yourselves this way - Oh my God!"
Seeing the rude doorway, she quickly sprang towards it in the pathetic hope of finding shelter in the other section of the hut. Gonzales bellowed with laughter.
"The Senora wants to play games. But no, Senra, we will do it here, so that your husband can watch how well we salute your beauty. Hernando, bring her back."
"With the greatest of pleasure!"
A moment later, screaming and pleading, Eunice was dragged back by the wrists and flung down on the floor in front of her helpless husband.
"Now, Senora," Gonzales continued as he waved the gun at her, "we do not wish to hurt you, verdad. So we will let you take off all your clothing so that you will be naked and ready to fuck. Otherwise, I should be desolate, you will have to be stripped by force. You have your choice, Senora. But make it fast, for as you see, we are all ready to fuck you at this very moment."
"Oh, Jack, they - they want me to take off my clothes. Oh my God, what am I going to do?" Eunice sobbed, clasping her hands in prayer and on her knees, appealing desperately to her helpless husband.
"I think she will give us a little trouble, Pedro, so you may help her undress. You may be her lady's maid."
As the fat mustached bandit came toward her, Eunice gave a wild scream and tried to run, this time toward the door of the hut, but Pedro seized her by a wrist and spun her around, then slapped her face brutally.
"Maybe you do not hear so well. In Mexico, when a man speaks to a woman, she obeys him. Now take off your clothes and be all naked."
"I - I can't. Oh, I'd rather die! Oh, Jack, they're all going to h-have me - oh, save me, Jack! Don't let them - Oh, Jack - Oh, my God!" Eunice hysterically wept.
Jack spluttered and twisted about in his chair, his face flushed, his eyes staring as he saw Pedro and Hernando holding Eunice between them, saw Gonzales approach them and laying his hand on the bodice of her dress, brutally ripped it down. Next, seizing the material at the shoulders, he pulled energetically and the tattered dress fell about her feet, leaving her in the bra and pantie combination, with garter belt, hose and pumps, which Jack Mordaunt himself had viewed in their compartment only the day before.
"Caramba! Dios!" Gonzales swore, licking his lips. "This is indeed a puta of distinction, amigos! What whiteness has her skin and her tetas!"
Tucking his gun back into the holster at the left side of his belt, Gonzales extended both hands and cupped both titties. A shriek of shame and dread escaped her as she struggled to be free of her captors. "So firm, hard and young! They will give suck to many babies, but first to lips of livers like ourselves, eh, Pedro?"
"Si, si," the fat mustached bandit guffawed. "Let us see these tetas."
"It is very easy. See, here they are!" Gonzales laughed as he ripped away the bandeau of Eunice's brassiere, letting it flutter to the floor.
Eunice screamed and tried to twist herself away from her two captors. Their eyes devoured her as, naked to the waist, her titties jiggling in the agitated, jerky movements of her body, made in her futile attempt to break away, the proud, beautiful, firm, creamy pears of her naked bubbies jutted out for all to see. Gonzales reached up and tweaked one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Eunice jerked back her head, eyes mad with horror.
"Oh, Jack, he's feeling my b-b-breasts. Oh God, won't somebody help up. Oh, Jack, try to get free and help me. Oh, I don't want them to do it to me - Oh, I don't - I don't!"
"Now let's see if the rest of her is as nice as her tetas," Gonzales chuckled hoarsely. His prick was throbbing with savage rut as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her panties. With a wild scream Eunice tried to twist and throw herself backward, but in vain. With the next twist of his fingers downward, Gonzales made the brief veil lower to her knees. Gasps of lustful admiration burst from her other two captors as they gazed at the thick black triangle of her cunthole. She had twisted her face to one side and tears were running down her flushed cheeks.
"Oh, please, I don't want you to! Oh, Jack, save me from them! I'm naked, I'm helpless! Oh my God, won't you help me?"
"Your husband cannot help you now, but you can help yourself by submitting graciously, Senora. I know it is awkward when one is married to a handsome gringo like your husband there," Gonzales said with a mock courtesy, again bowing low and flourishing his sombrero. His prick bobbed as he moved. "But I assure you that once you have felt what hombres we are, each of us, you will not be sorry. You will not miss your husband too much. Pedro, Hernando, take her over to the serape. She will be more comfortable on her back, I think."
"Oh no!!! Stop it! I don't want you to! Oh, Jack darling, help me! They're going to rape me, I know they are!"
"We are going to fuck you, Senora. There is a difference," Gonzales uttered a lascivious snigger. His two henchmen dragged poor Eunice over toward the dirty old Mexican blanket and held her down, while Pedro knelt at her head and held both her jerking twists in his hands, Hernando whisked off the panties completely. This done, despite her frantic kicks and twists, he planted his left palm on her dimpled, creamy belly and ran his right hand over her stockinged legs from knees to crotch.
"I do not often see a puta wear this thing here," he remarked as he looked up at Gonzales, who had tossed his sombrero on the table, laid his revolver on it and returned to watch Eunice's naked, wriggling body.
"Hombre, that is to hold up the stockings on those long legs. Does it bother you?" he asked.
"I do not think it will keep me from fucking the Senora," Hernando laughingly responded. "Now who is to go first with her?"
"Oh no - no - Jack, in heaven's name, don't let them do this to me! I'm your wife - save me from them!" Eunice shrieked.
"It was I who stopped the car, amigos." Gonzales pointed out. "Also I am the capitan among us. So it is only justice that I go first. And besides, my cojones are strongest of all of you, as the Senora will soon tell you. Hold her down, Hernando, open her legs for me. Once I am planted, she may kick to her heart's content. Ha-ha-ha!"
Eunice fought frenziedly, but in a few moments, with Pedro gripping her wrists, kneeling at her head and Hernando having seized both her ankles in his fat, strong hands and yawning them apart, her plight was desperate indeed.
Again Jack Mordaunt flung himself against his bonds and tried to cry out, but the gag and the lasso effectively suppressed his attempts. His chair was placed so that he saw his naked, writhing, helpless wife before him, with Pedro to his left holding her wrists above her head. Gonzales now knelt down between her hugely straddled thighs.
"Now, Senora, you will feel my cojones," he promised.
"But please don't do it to me! Oh God, I'll get money for you. My father's head of a bank in the States. Oh God, I'll give you anything if you won't do it to me! Oh, Jack, Jack, he's going to put it into me. I don't want you to! Oiiiee!"
Jack Mordaunt's staring eyes saw the bearded Mexican fling himself down over Eunice's squirming, naked body, his hands gripped her panting, squirming pear-titties and then her head twisted to one side, her eyes staring with revulsion and shame and then the bandit thrust himself forward. The head of his prick found the soft, sensitive cunny-petals beneath the thick, soft pussy-curls and disappeared inside.
Hernando promptly rose, releasing her ankles. Eunice began to kick her legs frenziedly in an effort to displace her ravisher.
"Ahh!" Gonzales panted. "What a tight, hot cunt the Senora has! How fortunate you are, Senor!" He turned his flushed, contorted face towards Jack in the chair. "To have such a esposa to fuck whenever it pleases you. It is that we are poor bandidos and so we must take our pleasure those few times we can! Aiii, Valgame Dios. How she wriggles, like a fish! She has felt my harpoon and she knows herself to be well hooked, no es verdad, Senor?"
With a grunt, he forced himself forward to his very balls inside Eunice Mordaunt's tight cunthole. A piercing scream of pain and revulsion burst from her. "Aaaahhhrrr!!! Oh, Jack, he's got it into me, he's ripping me to pieces. Oh my God, help me, help your wife. I won't want him to - he's hurting me there."
"Beads of sweat stood out on Jack Mordaunt's forehead, but his glazing, dilated eyes followed every detail of this exciting scene. Pedro, who continued to hold Eunice's hands, now arched his hardened cock over her contorted face.
"It is one thing to feel the cojones of Gonzales," he lewdly chuckled, "but it is nothing to mine. Would you not like to taste them? To suck them, to tongue them a little, Senora?" With this he rubbed his prick over Eunice's lips and mouth and chin, making her twist her face away and utter shriek upon shriek.
Meanwhile, Gonzales with deep brutal thrusts was fucking her, his hands kneading her titties, his thumbs at the nipples forcing them back into the sweet flesh of her bosom, then letting them bob out again until they stiffened with tumescence. Whimpering groans and sobs, tearful pleas and frantic entreaties broke from the martyred, naked brunette.
"Oh, Ahhh, Oww - you're hurting me - not so hard - Oh, God, save me from th - this this is ripping me apart. Oh Jack, Jack, I don't want him to do it to me - I'm your wife - Oh, Eeeeahrrr!!!"
Vigorously, his heavy buttocks jerking and twisting, Gonzales continued to thrust his heavy prick deep into the channel of the naked brunette. Her knees were now draw up on either side and her plump heels drummed the dirt floor of the adobe hut. Her eyes were repulsed, her nostrils flaring and she incessantly turned her face from side to side, great tears rolling down her cheeks. Pedro amused himself by running his prick against those tear strained cheeks, against her eyelids, her forehead and her ears. At last, with a shout of exultance, Gonzales gave a last triumphant thrust and fell atop her shuddering body as his hot spunk lashed the walls of her violated womanhood. He drew himself out with a noisy plot and staggered to his feet.
"Caramba," he gasped, "I have never fucked so tight and hot a cunt! I have not even stretched it, amigos. But now I must clean my prick. Let us see what we can use - Ah, yes, her hair. Such lovely black hair, so ugly tied up that way. Make her sit up, Pedro!"
The fat, mustachioed bandit chuckled lewdly as he helped Eunice sit erect. Sobbing, she clenched her thighs in a useless gesture of modesty, while Gonzales, his limpened prick greasy with spunk, knelt down behind her and with thick fingers loosened the slim bun of her raven hair till it tumbled in a silky, lovely cascade to her shoulders. Then, gripping it in his left hand and guiding his prick with his right hand, he proceeded to cleanse himself with her tresses, while Jack Mordaunt twisted against his bonds and cried out unintelligible words.
"Now, Pedro, for your work you deserve a reward. You shall be next."
"I should like to put it into her behind, Gonzales, if you have no objection."
"Oh. Jack, did you hear that?" Eunice shrieked as she tried to get up from the floor. Hernando gripped her ankles and at a sign from his companions, they turned Eunice over on her face. Hernando sat on her calves and began to pinch and spank her backside while she screamed and pleaded.
"Oh, Jack, they're going to do it here. Oh, make them stop - they'll kill me! Oh, make them stop - anything but that! Tell them I'll get money from my father in Asheville. Oh, Jack, stop them!"
Gonzales had now squatted down at the wall and taking hold of Eunice's hair, lifted up her face, twisting his fingers brutally into her scalp until she shrieked again.
"I will distract you, Senora," he told her. "Suck my prick, lick my cojones and I will tell them not to do it to you too painfully."
"I won't - I won't do such a filthy thing. Oh, Jack, did you hear what he wants me to do? Oh, God, save me!" Eunice screamed.
Pedro, meanwhile, had knelt between her thighs and gripping the cheeks of her ivory bottom, yawned them apart to expose the crinkly little rosette of her virgin asshole. Jack was lunging against his bonds with muffled cries and his eyes were blazing with lust at the right of his wife's violation.
Hernando calmly sat down in the middle of Eunice's back, crushing her down into the dirty serape and completely immobilizing her. Pedro chuckled lewdly as he arched himself so that the tip of his prick prodded the orifice of the virgin bunghole.
"No, no, not there. Oh God, you'll tear me to pieces and I'll bleed to death!" Eunice shrieked.
"I will wet it a little so that you will not feel it so badly, Senora," Pedro said hoarsely. He spat in his left forefinger and rubbed it against Eunice's asshole, then inserted the tip of his finger into the cringing crevice of her virgin hole.
"Valgame Dios." he swore. "It is even hotter and tighter than her cunt, I will wager." Then he spat on his forefinger again and rubbed it over the head of his bulging cock. "Now, Senora, we are both ready."
With this, yawning her bottom cheeks even further apart until she cried out in pain, he inserted the tip of his cock into the bottom-hole and steadily pushed. Eunice tried to kick, to tryst, but Hernando's weight upon her back and Gonzales' grip upon her wrists rendered her totally helpless. She threw back her head and uttered a mad scream of pain as her ravisher's cockhead finally pried between the shrinking lips of her delicate virgin asshole and entered just inside the sphincter.
"Aiirrr!! Oooeewww!!! Oh, Jack, it hurts. He's putting it into my behind. Make him stop! Make him stop!" she screamed.
Grunting, panting, his fingers squeezing poor Eunice's naked bottom cheeks, Pedro forced himself forward until he was nearly halfway in. Wild, raucous screams tore from the ravaged victim, as, taking a deep breath. Pedro now shoved himself to the balls inside the distended asshole, his balls slapping against the inner edges of her ivory bottom-cheeks.
"Caramba," he swore, "with an asshole so tight as hers, I would rather fuck this forever than her cunt!"
"Wait, compadre," Hernando gasped, mad with lust. "I have a still better idea. Why can we not let her two holes be made one?" "Diablo!" Pedro swore, laughingly. "That is a wonderful idea. Gonzales, help lift her up so Hernando can slide under her. Then we will fuck her together, the two of us."
"Oh, Jack, don't let them! How horrible. Oh, my bottom's killing me - oh, take it out of me! You're killing me - you're ripping me to pieces! Oh, God, won't anybody help us?" Eunice screamed.
Gonzales dragged her wrists up towards him arching her torso slightly off the serape, while Hernando slipped off her back and seating himself to face her, stretched his legs out and slid them under her, grabbing hold of her naked titties and pushing her up, while Pedro slipped his hands under her belly and helped left her. In a few minutes Eunice's wild screams announced to her helpless husband that Hernando was himself well planted. On his back, his hands grabbing and squeezing her titties, his prick prying inside her gism-stickled cunthole, he had crammed himself to the balls inside her with a single thrust.
"Go on, amigo!" he told Pedro. "I will feel you and you will feel me and she will feel the two of us, no?"
Pedro at once began to draw his prick back and then drove it home. At the same time, Hernando, timing his rhythm to his friend's, drew back and then thrust home. Eunice Mordaunt was being initiated into the perverse and demanding ritual of making her two holes one. The thick hot organs crammed inside her two orifices distended her atrociously and it seemed as though the thin partition between them let her feel the two hard, gnarled cocks rubbing back and forth.
"Now, Senora," Gonzales panted as he sat himself down his legs straddled in front of her face, continuing to hold her wrist. "It is not right that I should be neglected, I who gave you so good a fuck. Take me in your mouth, Senora, or I will take my knife and cut off your husband's cojones!" And then I will mark my initials on your ass and your tetas."
He drew out a jacknife from the back pocket of his pants, flipped if open and showed it to her. Her eyes were bulging, drowned in tears, but a cry of terror escaped her,
"Oh, don't cut me. Oh, please - Ahhrr! Not so hard - you're killing me. Oh God - Oh my God!"
He wriggled himself a little more forward so that the tip of his bulging prick-for it was renewed and even bigger - touched her screaming mouth.
"Eat it, Senora!" he hoarsely commanded, showing her the knife.
Eunice retched and closed her eyes. As her two ravishers continued to fuck and bugger her mercilessly, crushed as she was by her shame and agony and fear, she at last grudgingly opened her mouth and before she knew what was being done, Gonzales had thrust the plum-head of his prick between her panting lips and almost chocked her as he thrust home to her palate.
Her gurgling, strangling cries excited Jack Mordaunt to the utmost. His prick was monstrous within his fly and sweat was dripping down his contorted, flushed face. He watched with spellbound fascination as the man under Eunice fucked her violently and the man over her plunged his prick back and forth inside her unvirgined asshole. Meanwhile, her cheeks bulging with the obscene protuberance of Gonzales' prick, Eunice Mordaunt was undergoing a martyrdom which ever her most hideous fantasies could never have imagined. And then, suddenly, with a wild cry, Gonzales' body jerked and his spunk exploded into her mouth, strangling and nauseating her as she tried to spit it out. At the same moment her two ravishers achieved their climax and her asshole and cunt were deluged with lava-hot spunk.
Pedro pulled his prick out of her asshole with a swishy plop, bent down and seizing her disheveled black hair in his hand, calmly wiped his prick off with it. Then he took hold of her by the sides and pulled her up to all fours. Half fainting, nauseated, trembling violently, she crouched thus, her disheveled hair falling over her tear-downed cheeks. Long, hysterical sobbings and moans escaped her.
"Well, Senor," Gonzales turned to Jack as he stuffed his limp prick back into his pants, "we are going now. Your wife has paid the ransom. We should like to stay longer, but there are always the policia near the border. Your wife can untie you, after a few minutes."
Then to Eunice, bending down and giving her trembling ivory backside with a violent smack of his right hand that drew a shriek from her and left a crimson imprint on the ivory flesh of her but-torn, "Adios. Do not be too quick to set your husband free, or perhaps one of us will remain outside the hut to see to it. It was a great pleasure and we are great full. We envy your husband, Senora. All of your holes are tight and warm, Senora and your mouth, I think, is best of all. Adios again."
Laughing and grinning, the three bandits walked out of the hut. There was a long silence, broken only by the heartbroken sobbing of the crouching, naked, ravaged victim.
As for Jack Mordaunt, slumped in his chair, the fly of his trousers was stickied and suspiciously wet. He had come when he saw Gonzales pour his love-juice into Eunice's helpless and virgin mouth!
CHAPTER 11
Eunice Mordaunt was trembling so violently that she could hardly stand. One of the tabs of her garter belt had been ripped from the edge of her flesh-colored nylons and as she moved toward her bound and gagged husband it flopped obscenely against her creamy thighs. There were dark bluish bruises on her thighs, on her titties, on her sides, on the inside of her legs and on her shoulders and arms where her Mexican ravishers had gripped her. Her nipples were swollen exaggeratedly from their suckings and squeezings and pinchings and their gism was beginning to dry in zigzag streaks on the inside of her thighs, on the fine sheer stockings and on the ruffled triangle of her black pussy-fur. Her hair was tumbled to one side of her face, the curls brushing one of her pear-shaped titties as she made her way to Jack Mordaunt. He watched her, devouring her with his eyes. He had never seen her so desirable, so delicious. With her down, naked except for her torn garterbelt and hose-her pumps had been torn off during her wild strugglings with Gonzales-she was the most provocative piece of tasty cunt he had ever seen. And to think that scarcely forty-eight hours ago she had stood, stiff and reproving, that prim bun of black hair adding to the image of her aloofness, beside him in the City Hall at Asheville!
He felt his cock harden inside his sticky trousers again. He began to fumble at the knotted ends of the lasso and finally fumbled with the knotted bandana and tugged out the handkerchief from his mouth.
"I'm glad they didn't hurt you too much, Eunice," he said hoarsely. She began to weep, her shoulders shaking convulsively.
"I wish they'd killed me-I feel so dirty, so used-Oh and to think that you couldn't help me-if only you'd gone back to the U.S., this wouldn't have happened."
"No, no, not that way, Eunice. You'll only make the knots tighter. Pull against that one side with your left hand and try to slip the end under. There-you've got it."
In a few minutes he was free, stretching and shaking his numbed limbs, trying to get circulation back into them. Her dress was tattered, as were her panties, but she put both rent garments on, weeping again when the dress refused to stay up on her but slithered down to her ankles.
"Never mind," he said, "well get to the ranch in about an hour and a half if I take a shortcut I know from here. I'll take you in at the back of the house and no one's going to see you. Besides, you're my wife. Get into the car."
"But-but we ought to report it to the police."
"There wouldn't be any use. I know their descriptions and there's time enough to phone them when I get back to the hacienda. They're probably bandits who hole up in these parts and are pretty well known. There's no use worrying about them now. Did it hurt very much, especially when he put it into your bunghole."
"Ohhh!" An hysterical cry of shame burst from the beautiful brunette. "How can you even talk of such a thing at a time like this? Of course it did! I thought he was going to tear me to pieces and make it bleed!" Unconsciously she reached back with one hand to soothe the voluptuous backside and he had to strain to keep from smiling at this gesture.
What she didn't know was that all this had been arranged. When he had Luis' coded message in Amarillo, he had set it up. The three bandits were field hands at the ranch who had been temporarily laid off until the winter. They wouldn't be back on the ranch until Christmas and by then Eunice would be so well broken in it wouldn't matter if she recognized them. God, what a kick he'd got, watching her get it. Of course, it was a damn shame he had to sacrifice being the first man inside her mouth and asshole, but it had just about been worth it, hearing her cry out and watching her struggle, especially that last when she had been forced to take the big prick inside that prissy mouth of hers. And then the idea of double-holding her had been a positive stroke of genius. He'd tell Luis to see that the boys got an extra hundred bucks for their day's work.
Sitting behind the wheel, scarcely noticing her as she crouched over, her face in her hands, still weeping, he started the car.
"Cheer up. It could have been worse. Sometimes bandits like this cut your throat or shoot you in the belly and leave you to die if they're unhappy with the money they get." He chuckled cruelly. "Besides you won't have to worry about having a baby. In case you do, remember that you're married to me and that it'll be mine. Now let's go and stop that sniffling."
CHAPTER 12
The ranch was a sprawling spread and the hacienda itself, of white stone, was in the thoroughly Spanish style which the wealthy aristocrats had used so much during the nineteenth century, as in southern California, Arches, Moorish decor, the huge patio and a magnificent garden. Beyond that, the grazing field and to the north, about twenty acres ploughed and cultivated for crops.
True to his word, Jack Mordaunt had driven the car to the side of the hacienda, looked around to see that no one was in sight and carrying Eunice in his arms, went through the courtyard and up the stairs to a balcony and one of the guest rooms.
"We've got all the modern conveniences here, even if we are away from civilization," he told her, "might be lucky, they might be sterile. I'll have Dolores send some dinner up to you."
"Oh-I-I couldn't eat. I feel so sick, I want to die."
"Now cut that out!" he told her, his voice rasping. "It's over and done with. I'll get on the phone and tell the chief of police in Mexico City and they'll be on the outlook for them. You just rest and take it easy and you're going to eat. It's good for you. See you later."
* * *
Eunice had bathed, observed that were wonderful perfumes, colognes and cold creams in the luxuriously tiled bathroom, which certainly did not suggest a crude Mexican hacienda. She had luxuriated in her bath, experimented with some of the perfumes and creams, rubbed a good deal of the cream into her sore pussy and asshole and dabbled with the colognes. In the closet she discovered gay floral-colored skirts and wide-bodiced blouses with short sleeves. She decided to try on one of them, although she couldn't find any lingerie to go with it. When Dolores knocked with the tray, she was in much better spirits and called "Come in."
Dolores entered, giving Eunice an appraising look, which made the latter blush, although she couldn't quite know why.
"Here is your supper, quite know why."
"Here is your supper, Senora Mordaunt," Dolores said coldly. "The Senor wishes you to eat very bit."
"I'll do as I please, thank you. Who are you?" Eunice icily retorted. She was trying frantically to forget the horrible episode of the afternoon, but now, esconded in a palatial ranch and deeming Dolores to be a servant, all her old inborn arrogance returned in a flash, by way of sublimation of conservation, although of course Dolores couldn't be expected to know this.
"I am Dolores," the Mexican-Indian mistress of Eunice's husband calmly retorted as she set the tray down on a nearby table in front of a luxurious armchair. "I have worked for the Senor Mordaunt for many years. I did not think he would marry one such as you."
"Why do you say an impertinent thing like that? Remember your place here, Dolores." Eunice Mordaunt arched her patrician eyebrows in a cold, disdainful look.
"I remember my place very well, Senora. And you will remember it, too, in good time. I have told you what my master wishes you to know-you are to eat and quickly, for he wishes to see you." There was something in Dolores's bold stare and mocking tone which galvanized Eunice into sudden fury. She walked forward and slapped the started Mexican beauty across the cheek, exclaiming.
"That's to teach you not to take that tone with me! Now you go back and tell Mr. Mordaunt I will eat what and when I please and if I feel like eating what's on this tray, I'll do it, otherwise not."
If looks could have killed, Eunice would have dropped dead that moment. Her face smarting, her hand rubbing the flaming spot, Dolores said between her teeth, "I will deliver your message, Senora."
Outside the door, toward the end of the hallway, Jack Mordaunt stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, his cigar stuck at a rakish angle, an amused smile on lips. Dolores hurried to him and swiftly related what had happened.
"So she slapped you, did she, mi corazon? She's going to regret it. In exactly forty-five minutes you go back in there and see if she's eaten her food. If she hasn't, I'll find a way to make her do it and apologize to you too, mi amante."
Dolores arched her loins against his stiff cock as she flung her arms around his neck. "When are we going to be alone together?"
"You're going to have to share me a little with Eunice-wait a minute, don't get mad. I've got some plans for her, so listen." And he bent to whisper in her ear.
Her eyes widened, then she giggled and finally she hugged him furiously, kissing him all over his cheeks and forehead until finally her mouth crushed his in a passionate embrace.
"Oh, my dear one," she panted in a whisper. "It is so exciting to hear you talk that way. You watch, I will make her do all sorts of things to please you. What fun it will be to turn her over my lap and spank her insolent big ass! You like me to say these words, my lover?"
"Certainly, since I taught them to you. Now go back and wait until the time is up."
Again there was a tap at the door and Eunice, who had eaten very little from the tray, angrily called out, "Come in!" Dolores appeared on the threshold, hands on hips, a critical look on her sensual memorably stern features.
"I see that the Senora is not finished her meal. Concepcion will not like that, neither will the Senor," Dolores commented wryly as she approached the tray.
"I don't give a damn about this Concepcion nor my husband. I didn't feel like eating and you may take the tray away. You are very impertinent for a maid. In my house, you would have been discharged a long time ago," Eunice remarked.
"Then you refuse to finish."
Eunice stamped her foot, rage making her face flame. "I told you once. Isn't that enough? Yes, I have finished. Take it right out of here and take yourself with it."
"Now that is too much, Eunice."
"Eunice-you have the effrontery to address me by my first name-you, a Mexican servant?" The scorn and contempt was visible in Eunice's angry face.
"I am a little more than a servant, Eunice. You may expect to hear about this." She hurried out of the room and in a moment returned with Jack Mordaunt beside her.
"Jack, will you please tell that wretched girl that so far as I am concerned, I don't ever want to see her again. She was insulting and rude to me. She gives herself airs-for a servant."
"She has a right to give herself airs. She's been to bed with me. Don't look at me like that, Eunice. After all, I only married you two days ago and you don't imagine I kept myself a virgin so I could wait for that haughty cunt of yours."
"Please, for God's sake, don't talk like that in front of her."
"I'll talk any way I please. We're in Mexico, so we might as well live as the Mexican do. In this country, Eunice, a girl is subordinate, inferior to a man. She talks when spoken to and she does what she's told. Now I want you to finish your supper."
Eunice stamped her foot. "I won't. You have no right to talk to me this way in her presence."
Jack turned to his mistress. "Dolores, get that black leather belt, the one with its end cut into three tails," he calmly ordered. Dolores giggled and hastily felt the room, returning almost immediately with a long black belt, the end of which was sliced into three inch-long strips, like a whip. She was about to hand it to him when he shook his head.
"No, you do it. Now then, Eunice-" Dolores was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes dancing with malicious anticipation. "-you're going to put that tray of food down on the floor and get over it on all fours. And you're going to bow your head to it and lap up all the food haven't eaten. I'm going to stand over you with this belt and hurry you along."
"You-you-you" Eunice sputtered ineffectually. "I'll do no such thing. Get the hell out of here, you common greaser."
Dolores' lips tightened at the insult. "Your wife is very free with her tongue, Senor Mordaunt," she said angrily.
"I had hoped she would say a thing like that to you, darling," he said to his beautiful Mexican-Indian mistress, while Eunice, not believing her ears, turned, her jaw dropping. "Before you give her the belt to make her eat, I think you ought to give her a little spanking, such as one gives a naughty child."
"No! You wouldn't dare. She's not to touch me! I'll die before I'll let her do that!" Eunice shrieked, beside herself with rage.
Jack Mordaunt grabbed his beautiful brunette wife by the waist, easily lifted her into the air and gripping her wrists with his left hand and putting his right hand under her legs, carried her over to the wide armchair, in which he seated himself. Then, adroitly reversing his lovely bundle, he dumped her down over his knees, clamped his right leg over her calves and tugged up her skirt. At once her upreared, creamy bottom was exposed to view.
"When you are about to ask my pardon, Eunice," Dolores intoned as she approached, "just call out my name and humbly tell me you are ready to do whatever I order. Do you understand?"
"You detestable creature-you vile harlot!"
"Prepare her bottom," Dolores ordered. Jack Mordaunt grinning complacently, held Eunice's wrists with his left hand with his right tugged up the cleanly laundered varicolored skirt she had taken out of the closet of the guest room.
"Why, you're very accommodating, Eunice. You can see she must have known she would get a spanking, Dolores, for she isn't wearing pants. Let me pull it up higher, so you can cover all of her bottom."
"Oooohhhh!!! No-I forbid you to-stop it! Oh, God, not that again! Not in front of her Aaaiii!!"
Jack hiked her skirt up well past her waist, rolled it into a tight circle, baring her naked bottom. His legs griping her calves, his left hand holding her wrists, his right hand against the small of her back, Eunice was completely helpless. Dolores spat on her hands playfully, then took her stance, standing to the victim's right. The frantic brunette, more shamed than hurt at the beginning, uttered angry cries and frenzied, desperate threats. But after about twenty-five hard spanks, Eunice began to find the ordeal somewhat taxing and tearfully, begged Jack to spare her more of this mortification.
"Dolores, I think she's about ready for the belt now." he ordered. "Give her a present and see if she's going to be a nice girl from now on."
"Gladly, my lover," Dolores laughed, "with the greatest of pleasure." She picked up the belt, swished it through her air and cheerfully announced to the desperately lunging, twisting half-naked captive, "By the time I have finished these twelve strokes over naked ass, muchacha, I expect you to be ready to apologize to me for slapping and insulting me. If you don't, I will give you twelve more and so on, until you are bleeding and broken in. Get ready."
Eunice looked back, absolutely thunderstruck, unable to believe that anybody would dare to whip her naked bottom with a belt. At that very instant, the leather bands slithered out and hit her jutting asscheeks, the three long finger-like whips nipping viciously into her outer thigh. A long wail of pain rose from the victim. A second stroke around the base of both huddling, crimson asscheeks drew a piercing scream and Eunice, weeping, began to ask Jack to intercede for her. But he sat silently, holding her tightly so she couldn't escape. A third and a fourth lash cracked down over the tops of her swerving hips.
"St-t-t-t-op i-t-t-t-t. Make her stop it! She's hitting me too hard, she's killing me, she's ripping me to pieces!"
"Why, a little while ago, you were saying that was what had happened to you, but I can't see any evidence of it."
The fifth stroke of the belt clung diagonally to Eunice's naked ass. She flung back her head, eyes bulging, her face full of tears and agony and emitted a frenzied scream each time the noisy smack-k-k-k-k of the belt attacked her already swollen, naked, burning ass.
Finally, by the eight stroke, she managed to conquer her pain and agony of spirit enough to ask mercy of Dolores herself. "Eeeeoooh! That's enough. I apologize."
"That was not quite enough?" Dolores inquired, raising the belt and bringing it down in another smack noisy right over the stripe on the burning asscheeks.
"Ooowww!! Oh, stop. I'm begging you, Dolores. I didn't mean to be nasty, oh, please, I can't stand it anymore," Eunice shrieked. Her twists and lunges excited her husband, over whose lap she lay. His eyes devoured her, then fixed Dolores, his beautiful Indian mistress, with a burning look of desire.
"Well, that is better," Dolores conceded. "If I let you off the rest, will you get down on all fours and eat up the food you have wasted?"
"Oh, don't treat me so cruelly - don't - Eeeeee-rrrrah! Oh my God, yes. I'll do anything, if you'll only stop whipping me with that horrible belt!"
For, instead of a reply, Dolores had slashed the belt across the already darkened welted flesh. Now she replied:
"Very well, I shall give you a chance. But at the least sign of disobedience or rebellion, back you go over the Senor's lap and I shall give you an even dozen. After that, we will see. You can let her down now, Jack darling."
Rudely, Jack Mordaunt dumped Eunice from his lap and she fell to the floor with a shriek of pain, since she landed on her naked bottom. Tugging her skirts down, she staggered to her knees, her hands rubbing her burning bottom frantically through her skirts. She caught her breath through a torrent of sobs and groans, but when she saw Dolores approach, swinging the belt, she hastened to drag herself on her knees over to the tray which had been placed on the floor and immediately bowed her head to the plate on which remained several frijoles and began to gnaw at them.
"Dolores, pull her skirt up over her ass so she'll be ready for spanks in case she acts up any more," Jack suggested as he lolled in his armchair and unbuttoned his fly to let his stiff, aching prick out. Dolores's eyes feasted on that sight and she at once grabbed Eunice's skirt and jerked it up well above the waist, once more exposing the red-streaked, swollen cheeks of Eunice's well-whipped ass.
"Oh, don't - don't whip me anymore. I'll be good. I'm sorry, Dolores. Please - oh, please put that down," Eunice blubbered. No one could ever have dreamed that such a fall from pedestaled, patrician power could have come to her - and at the hands of a Mexican-Indian girl who was her husband's bed-slut!
In her fear of the lash, her body shaking and trembling, she almost gobbled down the food. "Now, that's much better. You see how easy it is once one has made up one's mind?" Dolores chuckled. "Now, Senor Jack, what do you wish me to next?"
"Take off your skirt and blouse, baby, because I can't wait any longer. But first make Eunice crawl around and face the chair, so she can see what we are going to do."
Dolores giggled and beaming with satisfaction, she approached the other young woman and bending to her, took Eunice by an earlobe and turned her around.
And then, through her tears, her skirt rolled up high over her waist, her bottom naked and swollen, cringing there like an animal that's just eaten its meal, Eunice, wife of Jack Mordaunt, watched the scene before her, while Dolores, shamelessly hoisting up her skirt, seated herself on her husband's prick and began to ride it up and down and Dolores from her perch smiled down at her and commented, "Oh, what a man your husband is! You don't know how good it is to feel his naked prick inside my pussy. Aren't you envious? Oh, he goes all through me, all the way up to my heart! He is making me want to give down all my lovecream. Doesn't he make you feel that way when he fucks you, Eunice dear?"
CHAPTER 13
Helplessly, still softly weeping from the humiliation and pain she had just tasted from Dolores, Eunice Mordaunt stumbled out into the fields. She saw beyond her rows of vegetables, some fruit trees and then a vast expanse of grazing land. Here and there were some rube adobe huts, where the braceros worked and to her left, an imposing cottage-where Luis was quartered in his rank as foreman. Near this house was a heavy set Mexican about forty, with a shock of dirty black hair, a beard, short pudgy fingers and a broken nose, who looked at her and grinned; she thought him repulsive and shuddered as she advanced.
"Hola, Senorita," he greeted her, sweeping off his sombrero and making a florid bow," what lucky peon do you seek? I am Serfirio Rio jo, at your service, the assistant to Senor Luis, our bracero grande."
"I ... I was to find Luis," she quavered.
"Then I, Senorita, will take you to him. He is inside the cottage. Come!"
With another leering grin, he clomped in his dirty calf-length boots to the door and hammered on it," Hola, Luis, muchacho, es una senorita muy dulce aqui!"
From inside, with an oath, there was heard, "Enter, then, jackass, if it is truly important!"
The Mexican opened the door, made another mockingly courtly flourish of his sombrero to Eunice, who tremblingly entered. She stopped short across the threshold, with a startled cry.
Luis, his trousers open and his big, swollen cock sticking out of his fly, sat straddling a low heavy wooden chair, hands on his knees, staring down at a sobbing young Mexican girl who wore a costume very much like the one in which Eunice blushigly found herself-except that the girl's jacket was off, exposing surprisingly big round firm titties with dark narrow aureoles and exquisitely ripe hard buds. The marks of a quirt rose in angry livid dark red weals on her slim shoulders and upper back and Eunice saw to her horror that in his right hand there dangled this quirt, a short-handled whip with a supple plaited black rawhide thong about twenty inches long.
Luis looked up, squinted at Eunice and sniggered! "Your pardon, Senora - Serfirio, this is the Senora Mordaunt, not a senorita as you, lying dog, have said. Now then, if you will allow me to finish this little lesson for Mercedes here, I will be at your disposal."
Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, her eyes huge with disbelief, Eunice Mordaunt watched as the squat, vicious Mexican foreman turned back to consider the sobbing, crouching half naked Mexican girl on the floor before him: "Now, puta, admit I am generous in not having you tied to the post and quirted with forty strokes for failing to pick your quota of radishes yesterday."
"S ... si ... si ... p-patron," moaned the unfortunate young beauty, who could not have been more than eighteen, yet whose voluptuously ripe hips and titties and full womanly thighs evidenced a greater maturity than that.
"Bueno. I am glad you comprehend that. Now, to show your gratitude, you will do as I asked - or Serfirio here will tie you to the post till sundown, at which time I will have Dolores give you the lash - and you can guess where, er, muchachita, for you tasted it there once before, when you refused to share my bed."
"PI-please-let-let me go out-" Eunice started, her face brick-red with disgust at this incredible scene.
"You will stay where you are, Senora-that is the Senor's wish! Now, Mercedes, I am ready!"
Sniffling dolefully, the unfortunate girl crawled forward a little to the brutal foreman's chair. Then, cupping her titties, she began to rub them against his stiff bulging cock; then, at his sign, clutched her bubbies together while he arched back and forth, using the valley of her bosom as he would a cunt, his eyes sparkling with lust, grunting like an animal in rut. Sickened, Eunice closed her eyes.
"Enough, puta!" he rasped. "And now, finish the job you have began so well! And all of it, all of it you will swallow, comprende Usted? Otherwise, the quirt between your naked legs - ten times! And after you have had the forty on your backside and legs!"
With a sobbing little cry, poor Mercedes bowed her head - and Eunice, stunned, unable to move or speak in her stupefaction, saw the trembling soft red lips of the half nude Mexican girl close over the angry swollen red spearhead of Luis's throbbing big prick.
Then Mercedes began to suck that obdurate object as if her life depended on it - which in a sense it did! while the foreman, moaning, cursing the vilest oaths in English and Spanish, leaned back and savored the degrading subjugation, spiced for him by forcing this beautiful white woman, the wife of his master, to witness his carnal indulgence.
Suddenly, with a hoarse bellow, he cupped Mercedes' cheeks and panted, "Steady now, it's coming - mind you swallow every drop - ahh - there - ahhhhh!"
Eunice, nauseated, trembling, roused by his loud roar, opened her eyes just in time to see his body jerk; to see Mercedes' cheeks puff out, her nostrils dilate and shrink, her eyes roll and then her throat gurgle and quake as her Adam's apple bobbed convulsively in the supreme effort of swallowing that bubbling burst of hit sticky gism!
Luis pushed away the girl's head, tossed the quirt to the floor, with a sigh of appeasement. "Take her out and back to her rows of radishes, Serfirio. Oh and if you wish, I have no objection to your fucking her first. Maybe it will make her work harder. Sperm has a miraculous effect on putas hereabouts, I've noticed, ha ha ha!"
Serfirio grinned, scraped and bowed his thanks as he greedily advanced, bent to seize the weeping, half fainting Mercedes by a wrist and drag her out of the cottage. A moment later, not having closed the door - at Luis' secret sign - the heavy set rogue flung Mercedes down on her back on the dry baked clay to one side of the cottage door, and ripping off her shorts, thrust his stiff prick deep into her furry plump snatch and began to fuck her violently, amid her sobs and pleas and tears.
Luis rose, shut the door, leaving his limpened greased prick dangling out of his trousers and then in a wheedling tone, cajolingly remarked, "And now, Senora Mordaunt, I am at your service. Let me see - oh yes, you are to work with the tomato plants. Be very careful. Pluck from the vines only the ripest ones. And by five this evening, you are to have five bushels picked for the counting house - it is over to the east, Senora and there is a Mexican flag above it so you will recognize it. Now, as soon as Serfirio finishes with Mercedes, he will escort you to your work."
"B-but-surely-t-there's a mistake-I-I've never done manual labor, and-"
His eyes narrowed, his full sensual lips tightened: "There is no mistake, Senora. Your husband has given me very clear directions on the matter. And one more thing if at five your tomatoes are not up to the quota I have set you, there will be punishment. I myself will administer it. You are warned."
She stood, a hand at her panting titties, her eyes huge with disbelief, while he calmly sauntered to the open door, his prick still bobbing out of his trousers and called, "Bastante! Fuck her tonight after she has finished her work. But leave the puta, I wish you to take the Senora to the tomato rows."
Serfirio grumbingly nodded, then gave a last few shoves of his fat buttocks and uttered a roar of pleasure as his spunk shot into the Mexican girl's cunthole. At this, he drew himself out and agilely rose to his feet, pulling up his trousers and cramming his limpened tool back into his fly, but making no move to button it, as he retrieved his sombrero from the clay ground and moved towards his superior.
Mercedes slowly rose to her feet, tried to pull up the ripped linen shorts and ailing this, burst into tears. Luis chuckled and called, "Go ask Dolores for another pair, muchachita and hurry back to work. If you are a good girl and make your quota, perhaps tomorrow night I will invite you to have supper with me and show me what you have learned to far. Adios!" So saying, he went back to his chair and lit a cigarillo with a sigh of physical content.
Serfirio, grinning and winking lewdly at the shuddering Eunice, took hold of her elbow. "This way, muchacha," he cajoled. "I myself, assistant to the bracero grande, will personally lead you to your little piece of the hacienda, and what is more, show you how it is done. After that, if you feel inclined to thank me, I will graciously accept a small reward."
"T-take your dirty hands off me," Eunice gasped, jerking her elbow away. The heavy set Mexican's eyes narrowed: "Take care, muchacha, I need only call Senor Luis and he will have me use the quirt on your behind. Shall I call him?" With this he turned back to the door and cupped a dirty fat hand to his mouth.
"Oh no-pi-please don't-I-I'll go with you," Eunice groaned.
"Now that is much wiser, muchachita," he chuckled. "Valgame Dios-but you have a superb behind! To watch it as you walk is to experience a hardening of the cock, mi querida! And such fine bold tetas! It would be delightful to watch them jumping about under the quirt!"
Eunice's face flamed, but she suppressed her shame and fury, realizing the perils of her status - oh, God, wait till tonight, she would tell Jack it was over, she wouldn't stay his wife, she'd go back to Asheville and get a divorce-he was a monster, a fiend, to have her treated this way-his own wife spanked by his half-breed slut, made to wear the most shamelessly indecent costume and work out in the hot sun with threat of a whipping if her work wasn't adequate ... no, it was inhuman!
He led the trembling brunette to a section of the expansive area which had been heavily cultivated; over two dozen rows, extending for almost the length of two city blocks, stretched out, bearing tomatoes in various stages of ripening. There were women squatting along each row, clad as scantily as Eunice herself; she recognized poor Mercedes in the very first row, wiping her tear swollen eyes with the back of one hand while the other groped for a red ripe tomato to pluck and lay in her bushel basket. Another woman in the next row, bold, buxom and clad only in a low-cut blouse and black cotton skirt which fell only to an inch or two above her knees, barefooted, lifted her head and called out something in Spanish to Serfirio, who roared with laughter, then made a threatening comment, at which the woman quickly went back to her work. "That is Carmencita, mi duloe Senora," he told the agonized, numb Eunice, "she say to me, that new gringa puta will split her pants the first time she squats down and then I can plug up the hole that is shown with my big cock! Carmencita is the puta of Jose, who is next to me in rank, you see. Come now, here is your row, here are the bushel baskets and when you have filled one, take it to that little hut with the flag flying above it, where Lola, who is the timekeeper today, will count it on your sheet. Adios, muchachita!"
He turned and walked away. Eunice stood staring at the bushel baskets, the row of tomato plants and then she began to weep, her shoulders heaving with great tearing sobs. From the row opposite, a handsome woman in her late twenties, of Indian extraction, with heavy brass earrings, wearing only a dirty yellow cotton brassiere and a pair of men's khaki shorts, called to her: "Eh, Senorita, you had better get to work, or Lola will send you to the post or the whipping stool at sundown!"
Eunice turned with a groan. "Oh, my God. Do - do you speak English?"
"A little Senorita. Here, I will show you how to pick them. You must be careful to take only the firm red ones; they will discard half your basket if they find a single one that is not ripe. And break off the stem with the fingers of your right hand while tenderly supporting the tomato in your other palm-thus!"
"T-thank you-but oh my God, this dreadful sun, I-I'll broil raw," Eunice whimpered.
"I have a bottle of lotion which one rubs on the bare skin, Senorita ... here, rub it in well. Ay dime, what a fine white skin you have-one would say you had never worked before."
"I-I haven't ... how many women are slaves here?"
"Slaves, Senorita? It is really not so. All of us are the women of the hombres who work on the hacienda. A few are young sisters or cousins. True, they whip sometimes, but then," she gave Eunice a bawdy wink, "when a man makes love to you, the lashes left by the quirt seem to inflame your senses. You will see, ha ha! Now hurry, there is Lola come out to see how the work progresses. She is cousin to Dolores, you do not wish to make an enemy to her! Oiga, my name is Maria."
Hastily the handsome Indian woman returned to her row, squatted down and industriously began to pick the tomatoes and put them into the empty bushel basket before her, as Lola approached. Eunice, who had rubbed the lotion into her bare legs, back, sides and arms, was just cautiously trying to squat down, miserably aware of the indecent snugness of her white panties-shorts, when the female overseer called to her: "Hey, gringa! Stand up, I want to look at you!"
Tremblingly, Eunice obeyed as Lola confronted her. Dolores' cousin was svelte, perhaps an inch shorter, with sensual face, huge eyes, an aquiline nose with sensuously thin flaring wings, a small thin lipped mouth, sumptuous round titties set closely together and straining against her gayly embroidered green and red blouse, with narrow waist that surged into flamboyantly opulent hips under a black cotton skirt and she wore calf-length boots, proclaiming her to have status at the hacienda. In her leather-gloved right hand, she switched a short brown leather quirt nervously back and forth and Eunice's eyes widened in fear at the sight of that flexible, savage rawhide thong and the heavy, solid leather handle into which the lash was worked.
"You are the gringa Eunice, no es verdad? Her voice had a husky, insolent tone.
"Y-yes ..."
"You will call me Mistress Lola, do you hear, when I address you, or it will be three strokes with this," she whistled the quirt in the air, making it snap viciously.
"Y-yes ... M-Mistress L-Lola," Eunice faltered.
A cruel, sensual smile curved the thin imperious lips. "Much better. Now get to work and if I am not in the hut when you bring your filled basket, wait. I personally wish to supervise your work this first day."
CHAPTER 14
It took poor Eunice almost forty minutes to find sufficiently ripe tomatoes which she believed would meet the standards Maria had mentioned. Under the hot sun, her shorts threatening to burst at any instant, her muscles aching, sweat running down from her forehead and staining her armpits she was in torment. At last she straightened, with a groan of pain at the twinge of agony from her patrician bare legs, unused to such ignominious tasks, and lifting the basket, staggered towards the hut.
Lola was there, reclining on a couch in the corner and with her, to Eunice's disgust, was a petite, adorably formed young Mexican girl who could not have been more than fifteen. Lola's skirt was trussed up, reveling her thick curly raven cunt-fleece and the young girl, kneeling on the floor, her hands stroking Lola's belly and thighs, was in the act of gama-huching the bold buxom overseer.
"Ohhh!" Eunice gasped with stupefaction and turned to go.
"Stay!" Lola hissed. "Do not move and keep your eyes on me! Otherwise, the quirt! Go on querida mia use your tongue there ... aii-ohh-ahh-that is good, Conception, very good. Instead of the quirt, you shall have only a little spanking over the stool this evening ... ahh ... ahh ... now ... now ... hurry, deeper, ahrr!"
Eunice saw the nightmarish lubricity; Lola's half-nude body arched and writhed, as the young Mexican girl slushed her tongue deep into Lola's hairy cunthole, till at last, seizing the girl's face between her hands, as she sat upright, Lola compelled her to lick and suck the creamy, profuse love cream which this gama-huching had evoked.
When it was over, she snapped something in Spanish and the petite worker hurriedly rose and left the hut. Eunice observed tears glistening on her long lashes.
"Now," Lola said lazily, "put the basket in the corner there. Good. Take out a few and place them carefully on that lining which is from an egg carton. Mmm ... that one is ripe-but what is this? That one has a tiny green spot. Imbecile! Do you not watch what you do? I will credit you only half a half basket. Now get back to work - you have four and a half more to fill. Otherwise - look, gringa, I wish you to see-"
So saying, rising, she opened the door and gestured for Dolores to look inside the little room set off from this broader tallying room by the narrow door. Eunice uttered a cry. Inside, she perceived a metal triangle set in the floor in the middle, with bucking straps, at its peak and at each of the legs at the base; elsewhere, there was a tall leather-padded footstool, equally provided with heavy bucking straps; and finally, a bench along the side of one wall, with buckling straps at head, foot and middle, left no doubt as to its usage. If it did, moreover, the sight of a panoply of heavy metal hooks thrust into the adobe wall from which dangled quirts, straps, oval-shaped paddles made of leather and of blonde yucatan-tree wood, terrifyingly informed her as to the use to which this section of the hut was put.
"Now go back to your rows and work hard, gringa," Lola said contemptuously.
An hour later, her fingers aching and chafed, baked by the sun, Serfirio and Manuel, a tall Mexican with drooping moustache and lasciviously glittering eyes, came round with pails of water and metal dippers for the workers, who, still kneeling in their rows, ladled out their drink. For food, there was a bowl of beans and a frijole; only fifteen minutes was granted for this meager repast and then the work resumed.
Eunice's shorts were torn by now, obscenely displaying the ambery-sadowy fissure of her asshole and up her left thigh, exposing the black curls of her cunthole. With two hours to go, her head aching savagely, her muscles shrieking their protest, she had brought in two more filled baskets which had grudgingly passed Lola's inspection. Two and a half more remained to be filled-or she would pay a visit to the "punishment corral" as Lola whimsically called it.
Terror of that made her forget the abominable degradation of her situation; Maria in the next row seemed to delight in recounting episodes of past punishments as they worked opposite each other: "Eh, little gringa, I mind of Serafina, the cousin of Luisa Hernandez. Two weeks ago, because she slapped the face of Serfirio when he passed by and could not resist pinching her backside under her skirt, she was tied to the triangle and given the paddle on the naked behind while Serfirio fucked her. Later, when I asked the pretty muchacha if it did not hurt, she said that it did, dreadfully, because Serfirio was not kind enough to fuck her till she came, taking care only of his own pleasure. So the naughty creature, the very next day, purposely slapped him, saying, 'This time, Senor, I beg of you to fuck me till my juice comes too!' Was that not quaint, mi Eunicia?"
Suddenly a whistle blew, the day's toil. Eunice uttered a cry. She had failed by nearly a full basket to attain her quota. Slowly rising with a groan, rubbing the small of her back, she followed Maria, who bade her come to the tallying hut, as all workers must do at the day's end.
To her terror, she espied Dolores, booted and gloved, with a black rawhide sombrero, standing talking to Lola at the entrance. One by one, the women peons entered the hut, were told their tally and then sent away or, as the case might be, ordered to sit down on a long low bench just outside the "punishment coral" to await their chastisement for poor work.
"Ah, here is our little gringa," Dolores laughed. "Well, my cousin, has she been industrious?"
"Not too badly. But two of her baskets had to be counted only as one, since she brought in green tomatoes, so she has only four instead of five."
"Too bad, Eunice. Go sit down on the bench. We have Helena, Margarita and Laura ahead of you," Dolores-is-isn't Jack home yet?"
"The Senor Patron? Yes, by good fortune, he arrived much earlier than he had planned. He is taking his siesta after his long ride. Well, Lola, do you wish me to aid you in spanking these lazy putas?"
"I should welcome your assistance, my cousin," Lola chuckled. "Begin with Helena. I will Margarita then you Laura and I reserve Eunice for myself."
"Oh, God," Eunice wailed at these callous words, "please tell my husband-oh, he can't let me be punished-it's inhuman-I'm his wife-"
"This we know very well, gringa," laughed Lola, showing super strong white teeth, "but it is his order that you receive no less than any of the putas in the fields if you merit it. Come, Helena, go with my cousin. She will warm your big backside tenderly!"
A young woman, with two long plaits of glossy black hair, a heart shaped, childishly sweet face, about nineteen, in cheap black cotton skirt and low cut off-shoulder red blouse, began to cry softly as she rose from the bench. Eunice watched in terror as Dolores seized her by a wrist and dragged her into the adjoining section of the hut, without bothering to close the door. Eunice could hear tearful plaints, followed by the sound of a slap and then Dolores' arrogant voice come to her in English -purposely, to augment her own suspense and terror: "This is the second time this month we find you here, Helena. Last time it was the paddle, no es verdad? Today it will be the switch, on the triangle. A trip naked!" And then, after sobbing plaints, the sound of struggling and Dolores' angry voice, "You fight me, do you, puta? That will be ten more - on the tetas! I will teach you to try to scratch me!"
Then, helpless weeping and then the whistle and flesh, followed by a strident shriek of torment. Eunice buried her face in her hands. The cries rose in volume: then dwindled to cascade of sobs, only to rise in frenzied intensity when Dolores lowdly announced, "And now for those big tetas, let us see if they are as tender as your fat backside, Helena!"
When Helena emerged, she was stumbling, a hand rubbing her panting bubbies, the other her burning bottom, head bowed. And then it was the turn of Margarita, a mature woman in her late twenties, handsome, with calm features belied by her widened eyes and the tremor of her twisting fingers, who followed! Lola into the punishment corral, was stretched over the stool and solidly paddled on her naked bottom till at last her stoicism broke down into piteous, hysterical 'supplications. And then Dolores summoned Laura, a tall shapely Mexican girl about twenty-one, with furtive eyes and passionate full mouth and bold widely spaced round titties like cantaloupes, with a delicious soft tanned skin lighter than her own. Eunice, trembling so violently she thought she would faint, heard whispers and then the sound of soft kisses and then Dolores' husky voice murmuring, "Stretch out on the bench, querida, I will not be too harsh and then you will suck me off the way you do so well. If you are a good girl during your spanking, you may come to bed with me tonight and I will give you a delicious little switching between your legs."
The sound of the spanking that followed was not so terrifying to Eunice as shameful and when at last Laura emerged she was flushed, her eyes humid and she flashed Dolores a look of lustful and humble joy ...
"Come, gringa!" Lola exclaimed, bending down and seizing Eunice by the wrist.
"Oh no-have mercy-oh, please. I-I worked so hard-please-the sun's made me ill-oh, Dolores, have her let me off, just this once, I beg you," Eunice screamed.
But Dolores now seized her other arm and the two despotic beauties pulled the weeping brunette into the room, bent her down over the stool and strapped her wrists and ankles to the legs, then flung a broader leather strap over her waist and buckled it tightly on the other side. Now Lola ripped off her panties and Eunice's upturned, lewdly jutting and distended naked asscheeks were revealed in all their spectacular loveliness.
"Twenty with the paddle, I think, my cousin," said Lola and Dolores nodded assent. "OH NOOO HAVE MERCY, DON'T BEAT ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" Eunice cried in terror as she saw Lola take down a leather paddle from the panoply on the wall and come to her.
She was bent over tautly, shuddering in agony as any moment that wicked-looking paddle would smite her tender naked ivory flesh. And then, it fell, with a whooshing smack, flattening both summits of her out-jutting naked ass, drawing a shriek of torment.
One by one, till she thought she would faint, heedless to her imploring, humble, abject pleas, Lola directed the punishment implement over her naked bottom cheeks, while she fought her straps, screaming in pain, her bottom lunging madly and wantonly this way and that.
"She ought really to have an extra, dose, my cousin," Lola purred, tapping the flaming, swollen naked hindquarters with the paddle, "she forgot to call us both Mistress."
"I agree. Discipline is very essential for this impudent gringa!"
"OH PLEASE! OH HAVE PITY, MISTRESS! OH NO MORE, I'LL DO ANYTHING, OH FORGIVE ME MISTRESS," wailed the dominated captive, abandoning all her pride and arrogance.
"Truly, you will do whatever I wish?" Dolores, standing before her, bent and tugged up Eunice's contorted tear-wet face, a gloved hand plunged into her prim chignon.
"Y-yes, m ... mistress," Eunice whimpered.
"Then, you will suck my cunt!" Dolores hissed, as with her other hand she furled up her skirt baring the thick triangle of black mossy pussy-fur.
"OH GOD!" Eunice wailed in revulsion.
Thacccckkkkk! The paddle, expertly wielded in Lola's hand, flattened over the already inflamed base of Eunice's shuddering bare bottom-globes.
"AHHRRRR! OUUUWWWW! OH GOD, OH MERCY, MERCY!"
"Then suck my cunt till I come, or else Lola will paddle you till you agree!"
"Oh-if you only-knew-I-I never have-I-I WILL, I'LL DO IT, ONLY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IN HEAVEN, MAKE HER STOP, OH MISTRESS DOLORES, MAKE HER STOP!" Eunice shrilled as the paddle once more swept over the very same place and the stool creaked with her maddened writhings.
"Then begin! And suck and use your tongue gringa puta, till you taste my love-juice, or beware of the paddle!" Dolores panted. Twisting her fingers in Eunice's hair, she stepped closer, crushing her cunt-muff against the trembling lips of the unfortunate brunette. And thus, encouraged by an occasional sadistic smack of the paddle, haughty aristocratic Eunice Mordaunt Norton abandoned all her insolence, and gluing her lips to Dolores' tangly cunthole, sucked noisily, darting her tongue about the plump lips of that sensual crevice till Dolores' cry of rapture and the feeling of the Mexican-Indian beauty's creamy warm girl-dew against her mouth and tongue proclaimed the completion of that revolting task.
"We will leave her here for her patron to see, Lola, Dolores laughed. Adios, muchachita!"
CHAPTER 15
"Ohh-ohh," Eunice groaned, her bottom hurting atrociously in this bent-over fettered pose, "for God's sake,-mistress, have pity-untie me-oh, I ache and hurt so!"
But the two cousins had already left the hut ... the moments dragged by ... and then suddenly she heard footsteps ... "oh, thank God! - Jack-Jack darling, in here-oh, hurry, hurry, save me-oh, Jack, I need you so!" she cried hysterically.
Her bottom was towards the little narrow door of this punishment corral and so she could not see that it was not Jack Mordaunt who entered, but Luis ... and Serfirio!
"Caramba!" Luis swore in a hoarse lust-tat voice, "what a magnificent ass! It would be a waste, of opportunity not to enjoy it, do you not agree, Serfirio?"
"With all my prick," guffawed the heavy set Mexican assistant.
"Oh NOO! NO! OH, FOR GOD's SAKE. GO GET MY HUSBAND! OH PLEASE, DON'T LOOK AT ME THIS WAY, I'M NAKED!" Eunice wailed.
"We will not look at you, Senora, if it disturbs you so. We will only fuck and bugger you. I, as foreman, go first, Serfirio. And I choose her asshole. You may have her cunt."
"OH MY GOD ... NO ... NO WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ... OHHHHH LET GO ... OH NOT THERE, AHHHRRR!"
Eunice felt the foreman's brutal hands gape open her burning, swollen asscheeks, exposing the dainty shrinking fissure of her bumhole. Then she felt the hard rooting nozzle of his big whang prod that sensitive crack and tried to expel it with all her muscular strength-but in vain; with the shriek of a Christian martyr thrown to the lions, her head raised, eyes bidding and glazed, mouth agape in continuous cry after cry, she felt him ram to the balls inside her tender narrow bungchasm, till his viscous jet of hot spunk deluged her bowels.
And then it was Serfirio's turn. With Luis' help, he untied the weeping naked beauty-tearing off her jacket to complete her shame and bent her down over the stool again-but this time, on her back, with her pussy upturned and readied. Then, prying open the lips, while Luis knelt down and began to pinch her panting bare tittie-pears, Serfirio fucked her vigorously. And only then did the two men leave the little room, while she lay moaning and half fainting.
Again she heard footsteps, after what seemed ages ..."OH NOOOOO!" she shrieked, believing it to be another visit from her two brutal Mexican ravishers.
But it was Jack Mordaunt, smoking a cigar.
"Now, Eunice, are you ready to obey me and be my wife and lover?" he demanded.
"Ohh ... ohh ... oh please ... let me go ... I hurt so ... please ... you don't know what I've been through today-"
"But I do perfectly well, bitch. I ordered it. As I did your kidnapping and rape by the bandits."
"OOHHHHH!" she lifted her head, trying to stare at him, trembling convulsively.
"Either you will work two weeks in the fields-and I think you will be whipped every day, from what Dolores tells me of your slovenly work-or you will obey me humbly. Well, which is it to be?"
Crushed, defeated, waiting only to submit and end her suffering, Eunice panted, "I-I'll obey you."
Jack did not release her, but fucked her, tweaking her clitoris till she came. When he had finished, Jack motioned for Eunice to get up and stand before him while he relaxed in satiation.
"Turn for me, dear," he said ironically. "Let me see the abundance of your charms and treasures."
Eunice got to her feet in a sort trance, dazed from all that had happened to her. She could no longer feel. A strange mad euphoria settled over her and she believed herself to be someone other than Eunice Norton. She was another woman, a happy slave, a willing bitch - nameless and faceless, knowing no identity, only a placid mindless contentment.
She followed Jack's commands as a well-trained show bitch. She had learned finally that life was much more pleasant for her if she followed the orders she was given. She had resisted Jack hoping that somehow her father could free her from the horrible degradations to which she was being subjected, but now after a seemingly endless procession of hurts and affronts, she had finally accepted the hopelessness of her position.
Eunice looked down at Jack, who was studying her curiously and with a sudden deft movement of her hands brought them up under her breasts, cupping them into twin rounded peaks of firm white flesh. She tweaked the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and teased them into tiny hard buds that captured his eyes immediately. She could see a gleam of desire flicker anew through his face.
With sudden inspiration, she turned and bent over, spreading her legs about two feet apart. She heard a slight gasp from Jack at this first voluntary indication of voluptuousness on her part, as he looked straight up between her legs into her cunt.
With a mad look of vague amiability on her face, Eunice smiled at Jack and reached back with both hands around her buttocks. She spread the lips of her vagina slowly and tantalizingly apart. The moist pink flesh of her narrow slit became visible slowly as she gently parted the soft pubic hair.
Another intake of breath from Jack told her that he was captivated by her actions, by her shift to voluntary lasciviousness.
Eunice turned and herd out her arms to him, her new master. Now at this moment at last she was happy.