She could feel the heat of the city, the smoky, smog-filled air permeated her lungs, but she felt light ... free, full of hope. She looked around the train station searching for a porter to carry her single, but heavy suitcase, but everyone seemed to be running, hurrying and she was caught in the shuffle, so she dragged her bag to the curb and hailed a taxi. She held the thin wad of bills amounting to two hundred dollars tightly in her hand, fingering them, hoping that it would be enough to see her through her week of auditions and interviews. Mr. Jacobs had assured her that one of his contacts would surely be able to help her and that two hundred dollars would be more than sufficient to see her through. She had been given the names of a few resident hotels in Hollywood and asked the cab driver to take her to the nearest one.
The cab weaved in and out of the heavy midday traffic and pulled up in front of a large, grey, dingy-looking building near the end of Sunset Strip.
"This is the Colonial Hotel?" she asked apprehensively.
"That's right, lady. Charming, isn't it?" the driver replied curtly.
It wasn't what she had expected, but she got out of the cab, paid the driver and struggled to get her suitcase up the front steps. She opened the front door and looked around the lobby. It was an ancient building with high ceilings, the paint was peeling from the walls and the fake columns that were interspersed here and there in the lobby with no particular design. The carpet was thread-bare and dusty and the whole room had a musty, stale odor, but this was to be her new home, at least until she became established.
"Yes?" the elderly man at the desk growled at her. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Jennifer Rhodes," she stammered, "I have a reservation."
"Oh yes, another aspiring, bright-eyed starlet," he said sarcastically, "Come to Hollywood to be a famous actress!"
She didn't know what to say so she just stood there in front of the desk staring at him and hoping that this wouldn't be the attitude of everyone on the Strip.
"That'll be a hundred dollars ... in advance," he growled. "Pay me now."
"But, I thought that the room was just seventyfive dollars a week, why must I give you one hundred?" she asked, not wanting to part with half of her money.
"The twenty-five is a deposit... in case you decide to leave and haven't paid for phone calls or laundry."
"Oh," she answered simply, counting out one hundred dollars and handing it to him.
"You're in Room 325. Here's the key, and good luck," he added unemotionally.
She pushed the button for the elevator and waited for the car to come down. Several other girls were sitting around the lobby, toying with their nails, reading scripts, studying their make-up in a compact, all involved with themselves and not looking or caring what the person next to then: may be doing. A rather effeminate young man bounced through the lobby, looking as though he were about to audition for the lead in Peter Pan, and she had to look twice to make sure that it was a man! The door of the elevator slid open and as she got in she wondered if she looked as anxious as nervous as the others that she had seen. Some of the girls were very pretty, but in a hard sort of way and she hoped that she would not have to wear all that heavy make-up, eyelashes and low-cut dresses, but that she could rely on her talent alone to make her a star. She refused to think any differently, she knew that she would make it, no matter how long it took her!
She put the key to her room in the door and turned the latch. She pushed the door, but it was being locked by something, so she put her suitcase down and edged her way through the narrow opening and into the room. She looked at the shabby, lifeless, dreary cubicle that was her room taking it in all at once. It was so small that there was barely room to turn around and the only furniture was an iron postered bed, a tiny dresser and a stuffed chair, covered in a flower printed curtain material. It had been the chair that had blocked her entrance, it was too large for the wall space, but there was no other alternative for a place to move it. She reached outside and pulled her suitcase through the narrow opening and sat down heavily on the bed, testing the springs. The mattress creaked and the lumps that were visible even through the bedspread were even more obvious as she sat down.
"This is terrible," she said out loud, not believing that they could get away with charging so much for such an awful room.
She began to unpack her suitcase, putting as much as she could in the limited drawer space and shoving what was not absolutely necessary back into the bag and storing it under the bed.
She pulled the blind on the only window and looked out to her beautiful dull view of the walls of the next building.
"Gawd," she murmured, "what next?"
She freshened her make-up, combed her hair and decided to take her first look at the wonders of the famous Sunset Strip. Anything would be an improvement over what she had seen so far, and she needed a lift of her spirits. She waited for the elevator again, thinking that it must be the slowest, most delapidated one in the world, then decided to take the stairs. On each landing she could hear voices coming from various rooms, girls vocalizing, a couple arguing, or perhaps rehearsing a scene, and she thought that this was what it was all about.
She walked through the lobby and noticed that some of the faces had changed, some remained the same, but each one reflected a kind of despair, dejection, hopelessness. I'll never let this town do that to me, she thought as she pushed open the heavy door and walked onto the street. She asked a young man who was loitering on the front steps which way she should walk to get to the downtown section and he looked up at her, smiled and pointed to her right.
"New in town, eh?" he said cheerfully. "Good luck, honey. Everyone needs it!"
She smiled back at him, thanked him and began to walk quickly in the direction he had pointed out. The air was hot and close, specks of dirt floated around her as she walked down the Strip and she wondered if the whole city were like this. She could feel butterflies in her stomach as she began to pass the theatres, the casting offices, and watched the people scurrying past her who seemed to always be in such a constant rush.
She held her head high, stretching her neck to check the street signs and look for the historic and famous spots that she had heard her father speak of so often. Not even the grim expressions on the faces around her could dampen her spirits, not today at any rate. She had gotten her way, she didn't have to go back to school and she was going to be a star! Her mind wandered as she walked, daydreaming and wondering if people would stop her and ask for her autograph when she walked down this very street again in a few months. She had no doubt that she would make it, she refused to let that possibility enter her mind. She practiced the smile she would use when the people did stop and ask her to sign their books, menus, shirt cuffs, whatever, and rehearsed the words she would speak as she answered them. It was going to be marvelous, she was going to be famous, rich and adored; the toast of Hollywood!
She had walked almost twenty blocks before she reached a place that her father had told her about so many times, Grauman's Chinese Theatre. For the first time, she lowered her eyes.and studied the names, footprints, handprints that were cemented for posterity in the sidewalk in front of the theatre. Her eyes scanned over the myriad of signatures until they stopped at the one she knew so well, Carter Rhodes, her father.
"Someday mine will be there right next to his," she whispered to herself. "I'm going to make it like Daddy no matter what!"
She stood there staring at the pavement for almost fifteen minutes, looking for names of the young stars who had made it, those that were about her own age, or had been when they had gotten their first big break. There were only a few, but they were there and that was all that mattered. It was possible and she was going to make it, she had to make it!
She hoped that she wouldn't have to rely on the fact that she did have an already famous father, that she would be able to make it on her own merits. She didn't want her father to ever be able to say that she had used him to become a star. She wanted him to be proud of her, proud of her talent, her ambition and her perseverance, and not for one minute think that she had ridden to the top on his coat tails.
Mr. Jacobs had warned her about several things to watch out for about signing contracts, appearing over anxious, over-selling herself and she hoped that she could remember all the things he had told her. It wouldn't be easy to turn down the first contract that was offered to her, to wait and see if there would be a second or even a third offer and weigh each separately and carefully before making a decision, and it didn't even cross her mind that the first offer may not come!
She had to believe that she was the most beautiful, talented, desirable property to ever walk through the doors of each studio; not only believe it herself, but convince them that she was. She knew that she would be nervous, but as an actress she couldn't let her nervousness show. She had to be calm, self-assured, even a little arrogant, and let them think that she was doing them a favor by giving them an auditionl She fully understood the psychology behind these instructions, and she prayed that she would be able to carry them out with the same fervor that she felt for an acting career. She couldn't fail, she couldn't go home until she had made a name for herself, by herself, and not as Carter Rhode's daughter!
She toyed with the idea of changing her last name, but this may be a little premature. She was confident that she could make it, but she was not so naive as to believe that the Rhodes name would not open a few doors for her, create a few opportunities earlier than if she were not a Rhodes.
She wanted to throw her arms up in the air, shout so that the whole world could hear she was here in Hollywood and she wag going to be a star! Her body quivered with the excitement, like an electric shock had stimulated her body, her senses, her mind and she almost danced down the street, her head light, dizzy from the anticipation of what lay ahead.
She reached the corner of Hollywood and Vine, listened to the beeping of the car horns from the impatient drivers and she wondered if anyone could be as impatient as she. She glanced at her watch and realized that it would soon be getting dark and so she headed back towards her one room that was her new home. The thought of the small, dingy room depressed her slightly, but just for the moment, because she knew in her heart that it wouldn't be long before she would be living in Beverly Hills, hobnobbing with the other great stars and maybe even marrying a handsome and famous actor just like her father.
She knew that she would have to sacrifice her social life in the beginning in order to concentrate fully on her studies, her scripts, her image, but she didn't doubt that love, in fact, many loves would be hers in time. In the meantime she would devote all her energy to becoming known, sought after as an actress and respected in her own right.
She meandered slowly back towards the hotel feeling that she already belonged to the town and the town belonged to her. She would not get discouraged, let worry line her face or temporary setbacks sour her attitude, she wouldn't even think about them. After all, Mr. Jacobs was a man with many connections and he had made the contacts for her, so what did she have to worry about. Hollywood was going to be her oyster, her playpen, her world.
Mr. Jacobs had hinted that she may have to do "certain things" that may not always make sense to her, but when she had asked him to be more definite, he just smiled at her and told her that he was sure it would be nothing that she couldn't handle.
She felt that nothing could stop her or even deter her, her ambition was unquenchable, undeniable and it wouldn't be long before all this was behind her and she would be famous and people would be coming to her and she would no longer have to go to them for jobs. She had never been more sure of anything in her life!
Chapter 2
She spent a restless night, tossing and turning unable to sleep. She tried to blame it on the lumps in her mattress, the newness of her atmosphere, but in reality she knew that it was just a severe case of nerves. There was so much that she wanted to accomplish the next day and it was frustrating to have to wait for nine o'clock in the morning to come. She was fully awake hours before the sun was up and walked down the hall to the shower. She let the cold needles of water rinse the soap from her body, prickling her skin to a healthy, rosy glow then dried herself briskly with a rough terrycloth towel. She threw on her robe and tiptoed back to her room to get dressed.
She stood in front of the yellowed, veined mirror and let the robe slide from her shoulders and admired her body. She was tan from the summer and the line from her bikini was clearly visible against the narrow strip of whiteness over her fully rounded, firm breasts and trim, supple hips. She turned sideways, viewing the voluptuous curve of her bosom, the pert erectness of the pinkish nipples, the flatness of her stomach and the slight bulge of her thighs that narrowed into the slender stem of her calves. She knew that she had all the physical attributes that it took to make a star, that no one could doubt that she was a well-developed, luscious young girl. She shivered slightly and she ran her hands over her rib cage and cupped the white, soft mounds of her breasts in her hands and jiggled them slightly, then let them fall free. They bounced saucily with their youthfulness, standing out proudly from her body and she took a deep breath.
"I'm going to make it!" she said to herself in the mirror, "I'm going to be a star!"
She picked out her best lingerie and laid it carefully on the bed, spraying it lightly with cologne. She wanted to look her very best all day long and she knew that she would have to be fresh for many hours regardless of the heat and the miles of walking that she knew she would have to do. The minutes seemed to drag by, but she didn't want to get dressed too early so that she wouldn't wrinkle her outfit before she started on her rounds. She sat down at the dresser and arranged her hair more carefully than she ever had before. It fell loosely, shining over her shoulders with a lustre that had come from the hours she had spent brushing it every day since she had decided to make her big move. It had to look casual, but perfect, her crowning glory. She pulled one lock down over her forehead, letting it fall over one eye, then pushed it back, deciding that the sexy approach wasn't right just yet.
She applied her make-up with the expertise of an artist painting his most famous and beautiful portrait, careful not to apply too much nor too little, adding and taking away until she was sure that it was just perfect. She added a dash of lip gloss to her petulant mouth and smiled smugly at herself in the mirror.
"That ought to do it," she commented to her reflection. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."
She splashed a floral cologne over her body, powdered herself and slipped into her scanty, but substantial brassiere, adjusting her breasts like she were molding them, pulled the sheer grey stockings over her long, slender legs and fastened them to her garters. Her bikini panties covered the strip of white that had been covered by her bathing suit, then slipped the light, clinging jersey dress over her shoulders and smoothed it over her hips. The skirt was short enough to reveal the trimness of her knees and four inches of stockinged thigh above them, suggestive, but not brazen.
She looked at herself once again in the mirror for the total effect and added a single gold chain around her neck then walked down the steps to the lobby so that she could call for her first appointment.
She pulled the list of the agents that Jacobs had given her from her purse and dialed the first number with trembling fingers.
"Hello, this is Jennifer Rhodes calling," she said calmly, hoping that her nervousness would not show in her voice. "Mr. Jacobs asked me to call you for an appointment."
There was a long pause on the other end while the secretary checked the appointment book and then told her matter-of-factly that a Mr. Ralston could see her at two that afternoon.
She was a little disappointed that he could not see her that morning, but told the secretary that she would be there then, and walked outside and started toward the heart of town once again. She walked slowly not wanting to tire herself out, not get overheated because the sun was hot as it beat down on the sidewalk. She passed the hours by window shopping and walking by the marquees of the theatres, memorizing who was playing in what, trying to decide what she would say that afternoon and trying to acquaint herself with her new surroundings.
At one-thirty she climbed the stairs to a plush office just off Hollywood and Vine and told the receptionist that she had an appointment with a Mr. Ralston, then took a seat. The reception room was filled with pictures of stars, both young and old, autographed and smiling, confident.
One day mine will be there too, she thought, as she turned her head from one to the other. The receptionist smiled knowingly at her, then went back to her work. Several other young girls came in and told the girl at the desk that they, too, had appointments and sat down here and there in the room. She looked at them, trying to evaluate their looks, their talents, but after a while they all began to look alike. All young, all eager, just like her!
It seemed to be hours before the receptionist told her that Mr. Ralston would see her and motioned for her to walk down a corridor in back of her desk until she came to his office.
Trembling, she knocked on the door and a gruff voice said, "Come in."
"I'm Jennifer Rhodes," she said timidly, waiting for him to ask her to sit down.
"So you are," he said, "I know your father. Sit down."
She sank into a huge leather chair, trying to pull her skirt down around her knees as she leaned back.
"You want to become an actress, do you?" he said non-committally. "Can you act?"
"Yes sir," she said, trying to sound confident and self-assured. "I've been in many school plays and I've been told that I'm a natural." She wondered if she hadn't gone a little too far by adding that last comment, but it Was too late now.
"We'll see," he said, grinning at her. "This is your first interview, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," she answered simply this time.
"Young lady," he continued, "I'm sure you realize that there are hundreds, thousands, of young girls who come to Hollywood every year with the same hopes, the same dreams, the same aspirations that you have, don't you?" He didn't give her a chance to answer, but went on, "Out of those millions very few ever make it to the top. It's not a easy life, it's hard work and it takes more than just a pretty face or even a famous father."
She wondered if he were just trying to tell her to forget it and go home even before he had heard her read, but she sat there and listened to what he had to say.
"I know it won't be easy," she said; "I'm willing to work very hard, sacrifice and study, but I know that I can make it!"
"You've got the right spirit," he said, "but remember, this is only your first day. I'd like to hear you say that after several months, maybe even a year or two."
A year or two, she thought. This was something that had not entered her mind. She hadn't contemplated it taking that long.
He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, then he buzzed his secretary and told her to bring in an ingenue script. He handed her the pages of dialogue, asked her to look over them briefly and then read them to him.
It was the first time that she had ever had to read "cold" as they say in the trade and she was afraid that her voice would shake or she would sound monotone because she didn't know the lines, but she took a deep breath and began.
She looked at his face from time to time to see if she could detect any reaction whatsoever, but he was just looking down at his desk, making notes and only looked at her once or twice. When she finished she put the script in her lap and waited for him to say something.
For the first time he looked her directly in the eye and nodded.
"Well," she asked, "what do you think?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Give your phone number to the receptionist and we'll get in touch with you if we have anything."
Her disappointment must have shown in her face, so he added, "We usually don't cast ingenue parts from this agency, but we will keep you in mind if anything should come up."
"Thank you," she murmured and walked dejectedly back down the hall to the reception room and gave the girl her address and phone number.
It hadn't been the way she had expected to be treated but she knew that she couldn't let it get her down. She went to a phone booth and called the next agency on her list and set up an appointment for the next day. She tried to go over what she had said, whether or not it had been her fault that they had given her the brush-off, but she couldn't pinpoint any one thing in particular that might have been handled wrong. She was determined that she would get a better response the following day, so she walked slowly back to her hotel and tried to plan what she would wear, what she would say in order to get that contract.
The next day, and the whole week went just like the first day and she couldn't help but feel discouraged. She went to her room in the evenings and tried to fight the tears that would stream down her face after each disappointment. She hadn't anticipated this reaction at all and she hadn't prepared herself to cope with it. She had heard some of the other girls talking in the lobby and she knew that some of them were getting parts even though they may be only bit parts, but she hadn't even gotten an offer of any kind. She knew that she was just as attractive as the others, in fact, more attractive, and she was certain that she could read the lines just as well, so she didn't know what the problem was.
She had called everyone on her list except for the last name and she wanted to wait until after the week-end before seeing them, she wanted the time to think. She knew that this last agency was just a small, not very well known one, but at this point she couldn't be particular. She had had hopes of being grabbed by a large, famous agency or studio, but reconciled herself with the thought that she had to start somewhere and she wouldn't let the fact that this last name on her list was just a small, less famous firm.
All week-end long she spoke with the other girls and tried to get some hints from them as to what she should do, but on Monday morning she didn't know any more than she had on Friday.
She had to take a bus to her appointment on Monday because it was in another part of town from the rest of the agencies and as she looked around the neighborhood searching for the correct building number she had an uneasy feeling and she shook involuntarily.
The office building, though not particularly old, was badly in need of repair. The wooden steps were cracked and squeaking, the hallway- was dimly lit with a single light bulb and a few letters were missing from the name on the door.
Maybe it would be better inside, she thought as she knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
"Come in," a woman's voice called out, "door's open."
She peaked around the corner of the door as she opened it and walked into the inner office. A large stocky woman with corn-yellow hair was sitting behind an old wooden desk sorting out pictures.
"You the Rhodes girl," she asked, glancing up at her.
"Yes, I am," she answered meekly, not sure whether she wanted to stay or turn around and forget the whole thing.
"Mr. Barrish will be with you in a minute," she said. "Make yourself comfortable."
She took a seat in a straight back chair and tried to relax while she waited for the man she was supposed to see. She didn't have to wait long before a decidedly stout, slovenly dressed, middle-aged man motioned to her from another doorway and told her to come into his office. She wondered if this could be Mr. Barrish or whether it was the janitor, but the latter didn't seem likely.
She sat down in a chair across from his desk and she could feel his eyes staring at her legs when she sat down. His eyes travelled over her entire body shamelessly, brazenly, appraising her, undressing her mentally. He didn't speak for a few minutes, but just stared and she was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.
"Stand up again," he said finally, "and walk around the room for me. I want to see how you carry yourself."
Obediently she got up and walked from one end of his office to the other, turned and walked back again. She tried to keep her head high, her shoulders back, yet look as natural as was possible. Her legs were trembling, but she tightened her muscles in hopes that it wouldn't show.
"Hhmmmmm," he muttered, "quite a body."
"Pardon me," she said, thinking that he had spoken to her.
"Nothing, my dear," he continued, "I was just thinking out loud."
When she had finished walking for him she stood in front of his desk waiting for him to tell her what to do next.
He looked up at her and said, "Take off your clothes." His voice showed no emotion, but what he had said was merely a statement, a command.
W-what," she stammered, "I don't understand."
"Don't be alarmed," he said, grinning up at her, "if I am going to represent you I have to know what I'm getting. It's hard to tell these days if what you see is really there or whether it's false. I have to protect myself, you understand."
"I don't think that I can do that," she stammered, "I don't think it's really necessary."
"Suit yourself," he said, "but I can't help you if you're not going to cooperate. "
She sat down in the chair and just stared at him, hoping that maybe he would change his mind, but he stared right back at her, his expression unchanging and she knew that he had meant every word he had said.
"The movies these days are allowing more and more freedom and as you know some scenes are played with little or no clothes on, so I don't see why it should bother you now. You'll just have to get used to it." She just sat there, saying nothing, not believing what she was being asked to do.
"Well," he said impatiently, "what are you waiting for? Or do I have to help you?"
"I think I'd better go," she stammered, gazing at the floor.
"You must not want to get into the movies very badly," he challenged her.
"Oh, but I do," she answered, her eyes pleading with him to change his mind, "but I just don't think I can do what you're asking."
"Nonsense," he said, "all the pictures these days snow a lot of flesh, and that's all I'm asking you to do, or aren't you what you appear to be?"
"I'm not padded, if that's what you mean," she replied softly.
"Well, then, you've nothing to be ashamed of. You have a very beautiful body and rd like to see what we can do with it."
He was glaring at her, his eyes glazed slightly and she realized that if he were going to help her that she would have to do exactly what he said.
Slowly her fingers began to undo the buttons on the front of her sweater, opening them one by one, her fingers shaking from nervousness.
He was leaning further over his desk until she thought that he was about to lunge at her and she could feel his eyes devouring every inch of exposed flesh and she pulled the sweater from her shoulders.
He was breathing heavily as he got up from his seat and walked across the room toward the door. He opened the door slightly and told his secretary that he was not to be disturbed that he was holding an audition, then he turned the lock and walked toward her.
"You're very lovely, my dear," he panted, his stare hot and lustful.
She didn't answer him, but continued to unfasten her buttons and slipped the sweater from her shoulders. Her breasts jutted out proudly, full and ripe, above the scanty push-up brassiere and she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor along with her sweater.
He walked up behind her and cupped her breasts in his hands, pulling them free from the cups of the brassiere and pinched gently at the nipples until they were erect and throbbing.
He ran his lands lustfully over her body, tugging at the thin, black panties and garter belt, forcing them down over her hips and kneading the flesh of her soft, round buttocks and flat stomach. She could feel the hardness of his thick, stubby prick pushing into the crease of her bottom through his trousers and she felt nauseated, but tried not to show it. His breathing was becoming more rapid as he turned her around and forced her backwards towards his desk.
She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at his face, his leering grin and his pig-like eyes.
"Don't be afraid of me," he grunted as he quickly unzipped the fly of his trousers and pulled this throbbing, fully hard manhood free. He let his trousers and shorts fall to the floor and he stepped out of them. She blinked her eyes and tried not to stare at him, but he looked so ridiculous standing there in his socks and shoes, wrinkled shirt, no pants and his short, but thick, jerking penis stick- ing out over his protruding belly. He disgusted her, but she knew that she would have to do as he asked if she wanted him to help her.
She cringed backwards as he moved towards her once again, but the desk was blocking her way. She had never felt so naked in her whole life, so humiliated, and she wanted to grab her clothes and run out of the room, but she knew that the door was locked.
He lunged at her like an animal, his squat body covering hers in heated passion as he bent her backwards over the desk. She could feel the jerking of his hot, hard penis as it -moved upwards on her thighs, searching for the tiny, pink opening between her legs.
"Please, Mr. Banish," she choked, "please stop. I can't do it."
"But think of your future," he reminded her, his hands grabbing and twisting her breasts violently until they ached from the pressure. "Your future."
His arms held her fast against the hard wooden desk and he forced his hips cruelly between her legs until she was forced to spread them wide, allowing him greater freedom at her body. His cologne smelled sickly sweet as it mixed with the sweat that was forming on his forehead and cheeks as he bent down over her and began kissing, sucking and biting at her neck. He covered her mouth with his, forcing his tongue deep into her throat until she thought that she would choke. She had never been so humiliated, so degraded and she wasn't sure that this was what she had to do to gain stardom, but it was too late to turn back.
She tried to push him away, but he only held her more tightly, his body crushing hers until her struggles only made her weaker and her legs and arms began to tremble. She felt dizzy, helpless and she knew that this awful, fat man was going to take her no matter what she did. He grabbed her thighs and pulled them even further apart and lifted her up until she was lying flat on the desk and he was leaning over her.
His hands groped for the opening between her legs and she felt one thick, stubby finger shove deeply into her tight resisting channel and she groaned in pain.
"Relax baby," he chuckeled, "you're going to love it."
The muscles in her legs were tense and she wanted to try to kick herself free, but she couldn't get any leverage so her legs just flailed wildly around his wide, flabby hips.
He massaged her breasts harshly, twisting and pulling the tiny, pink nipples unmercifully and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He seemed to enjoy the fact that he was hurting her and she wished that he would do what ever he was going to do and get it over with.
He held her hands flat against the desk as he prepared to mount her, his fat, sloppy body pinioning her, covering her completely, as he shoved his hard, thick prick into the tiny hold between her legs.
"Aaaaaggggghhbh," she groaned as she felt her vaginal lips forced harshly apart and his thick stub tear at the warm, resisting flesh. His mouth came down on hers to stifle her cries as he pushed and shoved deeper and deeper into her tight, hair-lined cunt.
Tears of humiliation and fear began to stream down her cheeks as he pummelled against her, her hips crushing against the hardness of the desk and she knew that she would be badly bruised from his lustful attack. She could feel her head growing light and faint and she wished that she could pass into unconsciousness so that she would not have to remember what this awful, little man was doing to her, but she didn't and each time he pushed harshly into her she felt more and more ashamed until she wanted to die. She wished that he would cum so that he would leave her alone, but he seemed to have the stamina of a horse.
"Please ... pleeeease stop," she begged, but her only answer was a cruel laugh.
He seemed to fuck her for hours, but finally she could feel his already thick, throbbing prick expand even further and his groans become more passionate.
"Now, baby, now ... NOW," he grunted and she could feel the hot, sticky flood of his semen spill like a floodtide deep up into her belly.
When he was spent he slithered off her body and quickly put his shorts and trousers back on. She stood there for a moment before she could regain enough composure to look for her underwear that was scattered around the office floor, and put it back on. She didn't know what to say, she had never felt so cheap, like such a whore in her life and the tears of humiliation kept streaming down her face.
Mr. Barrish looked at her, watching her as she got dressed and then took her arm and seated her in the chair once again.
He grinned down at her and said maliciously, "Man, that Jacobs was right. You are a hot little number. We're going to get along just fine!"
So that was it, she thought. Jacobs had told him that she had had an affair with him and that was why he had acted the way he had. The thought scared her because now she wasn't sure that it had made any difference one way or the other as far as an acting job was concerned. This man had just taken her because Mr. Jacobs had told him about her and he was evening the score.
"May I go now," she asked hesitantly.
"Certainly, my dear, and you'll be hearing from me," he chuckled as he unlocked his office door and escorted her into the reception area.
She walked straight for the outside door, just glancing over at the secretary who was smirking up at her knowingly and Jennifer knew that she was probably used to Barrish's little whims and that this had happened many times before.
She was numb as she walked down the street to get a bus back to the hotel. She couldn't think about anything except what she had done and wondered if he really would help her or whether she would end up like so many of the other girls that come to Hollywood, defeated and broke, forced to write home for money so that they could return to their own small home towns.
"It can't happen to me, it just can't." she vowed to herself as she took the long ride back to her room.
Chapter 3
A week goes by and she hasn't heard a word from Barrish. She tried to call the office several times, but the secretary bad given her some lame excuse about his being in a conference. She knew all about his conferences and surely he should have the courtesy to return her call. Her money was just about gone and she didn't want to have to write to Jacobs or anyone else for more, she would get a part-time job first, doing anything.
She waited for another two days then decided to call Barrish's office once again and not hang up until she got some sort of a definite answer. If the secretary cut her off she would just keep calling back until she talked with him.
The secretary was cool when Jennifer told her who it was, but told her to hang on for just a moment and she would see if Mr. Barrish were free.
It seemed like an eternity before she heard his gruff, cold voice answer the phone and say, "Hello Jennifer, I was wondering when I'd hear from you.
"But I've called several times and you've never talked to me," she insisted.
"I never got the message, my dear, you know how those things are," he answered cooly.
She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, but it didn't matter, she was talking with him now and she wanted to know just where she stood and she was determined to find out.
"Do you have any parts for me," she asked, her voice shaking with fear. "You told me that you might have something this week."
"Let me see," he said, pausing, and she could hear the shuffling of papers on his desk. "Yes, yes, there is something that you might be good for, but there seems to be one small problem."
Her heart sank to her stomach, but this is actually what she had expected anyway, so she couldn't be too disappointed.
"What's the problem?" she asked hesitantly. "What must I do?"
"Don't sound so worried, my lovely," he said, "It's nothing that can't be handled."
She waited for him to go on, holding her breath until she thought she would pass out in the phone booth.
"In order to qualify for this part, you must be represented by an agent. The hiring company will not accept anyone without an agent. Even though I'm going to produce it, I cannot tell them what their policies can and cannot be as far as the stars go. I can recommend you for the part, but you must be sent in by an agent. They've got a strong union, you know," he chuckled, "Just like Jimmy Hoffa!"
"But you know that I don't have an agent. I've been trying to get one for weeks, but no one seems to be interested in taking on new talent. So what can I do about that?"
She was slowly losing all hope, but he continued, "I know of one agent, the best, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure he will represent you if I just give him a call."
"Will you call him for me?" she asked nervously.
"Certainly," he continued, "but I must warn you about one thing."
"What's that," she asked, wondering why he would be warning her, surely this agent couldn't be any worse than he had treated her.
"Well, to be truthful, I've already set up your appointment with him, but he told me that he is far from fond of your father, so be careful."
"Why doesn't he like my father," she asked, hardly believing that anyone could dislike him.
"Many years ago, when your father was just starting out he cancelled a contract with this agent and went with another. This man had started your father out and then got left behind when your father became famous, so it is only natural that he would be slightly bitter.
"Oh," she said simply, not knowing what else to say.
"But don't let it worry you too much. I told him that you were a very special and talented girl and that I was sure you would be fair with him if he would represent you."
"Thank you ... thank you very much," she stammered. "When is my appointment?"
"You can go over there this afternoon about three. His name is Paul Wallace, and he really isn't such a bad guy. Good luck."
She thanked him again softly and hung up the receiver, and raced back to her room to prepare for her interview.
She wondered why her father had broken his contract with Mr. Wallace, and she wondered if he would tell her. She had never known her father to have any agent but his present one and he had never mentioned a Mr. Wallace. It must have been quite a long time ago, or she was certain that she would have heard of him or at least her father would have told her that he knew him. She didn't want to make any mistakes on this interview, her whole career depended upon whether or not he would represent her. If she had an agent, then she could get a part, without an agent, she didn't stand a chance.
She chose a very conservative, plain black dress to wear because she didn't want him to think that she was just another starlet who was trying to look sexy in order to get parts, and looked as if they would do anything to get them. She had tried that once and she didn't want to take another chance like that.
By two o'clock she was on her way downtown to her appointment. She didn't want to be late or do anything else that might irritate this Mr. Walla.ce. As the bus pulled up in front of a large modern building she got out and walked into the huge marble lobby and looked for the directory. Her eyes scanned the W's until she was "Paul Wallace Enterprises, Third Floor." She walked to the first row of elevators and pushed the button. She hoped that the people around her could not tell that she was nervous and she wondered if it showed; and if so, how badly.
When the elevator stopped at the third floor she got out and walked to the plush office of Paul Wallace.
The receptionist told her that Mr. Wallace was expecting her and would be out in just a moment, so she sat down and waited. She was just about to light a cigarette when he called to her from a doorway and the receptionist told her to go on back.
He was an older man about fifty-five, greying hair that was very curly, pointed, aqualine features and a firm, wide-set mouth. Although his features were not what one would call classic, he was an attractive man in an unorthodox sort of way. He smiled warmly at her and told her to have a seat.
"So you're Carter Rhodes little girl," he said, almost to himself. "You're not so little though, are you," he laughed, his eyes flicking appreciatively over the curves of her frail, mature body.
"No, I guess I'm not anymore," she said, smiling back at him and hoping that her voice was not quivering.
"I don't know if Barrish told you, but I used to know your father," he continued.
She could not detect any bitterness in his voice and his eyes seemed friendly enough, so she was puzzled with his question.
"Yes, he told me you knew my father when the was just beginning to act," she said guardedly. "He's working in Europe right now," she added.
"Yes, he's done very well, very well indeed," he said, his tone not changing.
She said nothing and waited for him to continue but he just glanced in back of him and pointed to a picture on the wall.
"That was your father about twenty-five years ago. I had just started out as an agent and he was one of my first clients. We sort of grew together, you might say. That is, until a certain point. We've both been successful in our own separate ways."
"You certainly look successful," she said innocently, hoping that it was the right thing to say.
"I can't complain," he said, "however, if your father had stuck with me, I think we both would have been better off, but that's all in the past now."
"Who's the woman in the picture with my father?" she asked. "She's very beautiful."
"Yes, isn't she," he answered, "that's my wife and she still is a very lovely woman. She's quite a few years younger than me, but I guess that I was just lucky to get her. She was barely nineteen in that picture."
She didn't know what to say, she thought that this was the strangest interview she had ever had, he hadn't asked her about her acting yet, and it didn't appear that he was going to.
"Do you have any pictures of yourself that I may have for publicity purposes," he asked.
"Why yes," she replied,, her face beaming, "does that mean you're going to represent me?"
"Barrish tells me that he thinks you can act and he has a part that you are suited for, so yes, I'll be your agent, at least for the time being. It isn't easy being an actress and I'm going to be sending you all over town until you think your feet will fall off, but you've got to make the contacts, see the people, get acquainted before anyone will sit up and take notice. There are a lot of good and pretty actresses in this town, so it is who you know that counts, believe me." She had heard that so many times before that she had no reason to doubt it and he seemed to know what he was doing.
She opened her portfolio and pulled out a stack of pictures, 8 x :Lo glossies that she had had taken when she first arrived in town and handed them to him. He looked at them very carefully and said, "These are fine for now, but in a week or so, when you will have more time we'll have to see that you get some other ones taken ... showing you in a bathing suit, outdoor shots and things like that. You can only tell so much from a plain head shot. It's nice, don't get me wrong, and you're a very beautiful girl, but the producers want to see a little more of what they are getting." He laughed, his eyes narrowing slightly, and she nodded, knowing exactly what he meant, Mr. Barrish had made that very clear to her. She shuddered slightly, remembering that long, horrible afternoon she had spent in his office, but right now it didn't seem to matter, he had kept his promise and she was on her way.
"Did you bring any other clothes with you," he asked, knowing full well that she could not possibly have any wardrobe in her small leather case.
"No, I didn't" she said, tier voice faltering, "I didn't know that I was supposed to. Would you like me to go home and get something else?"
"No, that's not necessary, I guess. It's just that that dress you have on covers up so much of you and in this business it pays to advertise what you have going for you." He was grinning at her and she detected a slight evilness in his eyes, but said nothing.
"I could bring some back with me the next time I come to your office," she volunteered weakly.
"I'm a very busy man, Jennifer and it isn't al ways possible to see me whenever you want to, so I'm afraid we'll just have to get along with what we have here. "
"But I don't have anything here," she insisted, "I told you that."
"That's not important for what I have in mind, your lingerie will do."
Oh no, she thought to herself, he can't be the same way as Barrish, this can't be some sort of conspiracy against me, I couldn't stand a joke like that!
"What do you mean," she asked guardedly, afraid of what his answer was going to be.
"Just that I want to see what's inside that neat little package and that your lingerie will suffice for a bathing suit. You see it depends on your figure who I send you to, what type of roles I look for for you, etc. You can understand that, I'm sure."
She nodded her head, but remained in her seat, not moving, her hands folded in her lap.
He began tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently, staring at her, waiting for her to make a move to remove her dress and let him get a good look at her. Barrish had told him that she had a knock-out figure and he wanted to sample it with his own eyes, and morel His eyes narrowed as he thought back about twenty-three years, when he had first started in business. Carter Rhodes had been his best friend and his best client, and he had just married the most beautiful girl in the world. She had been naive and sweet when he had met her and it was a refreshing difference from the cold, hard, Hollywood types he had met, who would do anything to get into pictures. His wife had not cared about getting into movies, she just wanted to be his wife, then she met Carter Rhodesl He gritted his teeth to keep from swearing at the picture that was hanging on the wall, a picture that he had hung up as a constant reminder to be careful, to not trust anyone, not even your best friend. He couldn't let himself be hurt like that again. Even the years that had gone by had not erased the memory of what he saw that afternoon when he walked into his own home unexpectedly and found Rhodes and his wife together making love.
He had waited all these years to get some sort of revenge at Rhodes and now here was his opportunity sitting right in front of him, just like the angels had sent her to him.
"Take off your dress, my dear girl," he said, smiling at her. His voice was not hard, but his eyes betrayed his real feelings and she wanted to get up and run.
"Right now, you mean," she asked, knowing that he did, but hoping that he'd change his mind.
"Yes ... right now," he said sternly, "unless you'd rather forget about the whole thing. I don't care, it's your career."
She knew that she would have to do it if she wanted him to represent her and she tried to rationalize the fact that her lingerie was just the same as her bikini, but then she remembered that she had worn her very sheerest because the dress was rather warm and she didn't know what to do.
"I don't have all day, Miss Rhodes," he said, his voice becoming more formal and annoyed.
"Yes sir," she mumbled as she stood up and unzipped the back of her dress.
He moved his chair around to the side of his desk and watched her every move. She glanced down at him once and she could detect a growing bulge in his trousers, and she closed her eyes tightly and prayed that he wouldn't attack her as Barrish had. He must see thousands of girls this way, she told herself, I'm nothing special, but a gnawing fear was growing in her belly.
"Hurry it up dear, I have another appointment after yours," he urged her and she let her dress fall in a heap on the chair where she had been sitting.
"Come here," he ordered her and she walked slowly across the room and stood subservently in front of him.
His eyes devoured her, drinking in every curve, every inch of smooth, porcelin flesh and he took a deep breath.
I'm going to enjoy this more than anything in my whole life, he thought to himself and laughed out loud.
"What's the matter?" she asked, surprised at his reaction to her semi-nudity.
"Nothing, I was just thinking out loud. You're very beautiful, and in all the right places. Come closer."
She moved a little closer toward him until he could reach out and touch her. His hands went around her waist almost as if he were measuring her, then slid down over the slight, plump bulge of her hips. She stood there, immobile, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe. His touch was gentle at first, but his fingers began to dig into her skin and she started to pull away.
"Don't run away from me, I'm not all that bad," he said, his voice becoming thick and hoarse.
"No ... please," she pleaded, but his fingers would not release her.
"I've waited a long time for this opportunity," he gasped, letting his one hand fall to the thick, protruding bulge in his pants and quickly unzipping his fly.
Tears began to stream down her face and she knew that she would have to allow herself to be tormented, humiliated and debased again if she wanted to become a star. She wished that she had never come to Hollywood, that she had been content to go back to school, but it was too late for those thoughts now.
He tried to hold onto her while awkwardly undoing his own trousers, so for a moment he had to let go of her. She quickly jumped back and started to grab her dress that was on the chair, but he got up and grabbed her roughly, pulling her brassiere from her body with one quick rip. Her full, round, firm breasts fell free and she tried to raise her arm to cover her nudeness, but he pushed her hands away and dragged her back to where he had been sitting.
"Come here," he repeated, pulling her closer to him, burying his head between her two young, voluptuous breasts and nibbling fiercely at the nipples until they were hard and erect.
"God," he breathed, "this is so sweet."
His huge, erect organ was standing up from his hairy belly, sticking up like a cannon about to explode. It jerked wildly and she couldn't help but notice that it was extraordinarily large.
"You like that," he said mockingly, noticing that she had been staring at it. "Well, you're going to have it, just like your father gave it to my wife!"
Jennifer gasped and a new stream of tears began to run down her face.
"It's not true," she choked out, "He wouldn't do such a thing." But she knew that her father did and probably had done exactly what Paul Wallace was .talking about.
"No ... you can't. I'm not responsible for that," she pleaded. "My father didn't do it."
"He did, baby, and now you're going to do it to me. You've got such a hot little body, and that's just what its going to cost you to become a star! Agreed?"
"Y-Yes," she stammered after a moments hesitation, almost choking on her tears.
He grinned up at her, enjoying her torment, her fear, her humiliation, and he ran his hands over her face, letting one finger probe between her lips and into the wetness of her mouth.
She wanted to bite his finger, but she resisted the temptation and just stood there while he did as he pleased with her body.
His hands left her face and settled on her shoulders and he pushed down on them. She fought against the pressure of his hands, but then lie ordered her roughly, "Get on your knees!"
"Oh no," she gasped, "Please ... no ... don't!"
"On your knees girl, before I have to bring you to your knees!"
His voice was harsh and cold and his hands were like a vice on her shoulders as he pushed her to the floor. His giant cock was jerking in front of her face just a few inches away and he spread his knees wider and pulled her in closer between his thighs. His strong hands were tangled in her hair and there was no doubt in her mind as to what he wanted her to do. She tried to turn her head away from the monstrous, thick, throbbing snake that was bobbing up and down in front of her, but his hands held her head fast.
"Don't fight me, baby," he groaned in anticipation and delight. "You're going to suck me and suck me good until I don't want anymore!"
He pushed his hairy thighs and hips forward into the chair and pulled at her hair until she could feel the hard, throbbing knob of his penis pushing at the corner of her mouth.
"Open up, baby," he commanded. "I want to come in!"
She clenched her teeth, refusing to let him shove his horribly hard and huge prick into her throat. She shook her head, but would not open up.
He yanked at her hair even harder until she let out a little gasp of pain. When her mouth opened just slightly he shoved her head down on his monstrous, pulsing cock.
"Suck me honey, blow me," he said, rubbing his meaty thighs against the side of her face. He yanked her head back and forth, forcing his prick deep into her throat until she thought she would choke on it.
"Suck it harder," he ordered her and she could feel all the fight and resistance going out of her. She ran her tongue over the long, thick shaft, teasing the head of his huge prick then running down the other side.
"Ooohhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmm," he moaned, pressing his loins harder against her mouth each time she sucked on his rock hard manhood.
"Look at me, baby," he said, and pulled her head slightly upward so that she could look at him while she worked her mouth over his long, thick penis, rubbing it, sucking it.
He leered down at her and said, "This is what your old man did to my wife. He was my best friend and I caught him like this with my wife, my young, innocent wife!"
His voice was choked with emotion and she almost felt sorry for him. He hadn't been able to forgive her father or his wife for all these years and now he was getting his revenge!
He could feel her teeth against the tender un derside of his cock and he closed his eyes, knowing that this ecstasy would soon be over and he would shoot his sperm deep into her throat, making her take every drop of the bitter semen until her white little belly was filled to the brim.
"Work it harder," he groaned, looking down once again at his purplish, huge organ as it slid in and out of her tiny, moist mouth. He had waited for this for so long that he was surprised that he hadn't cum the minute her mouth closed over his cock. It felt like a huge, tingling shaft, a flagpole quivering in the wind and he pumped his hips harder against her mouth.
Her lips slid over the entire length of his shaft each time he pushed his hips forward and then let them ease back again. Her mouth was tired and stretched, and when he shoved his cruel cudgel deep into her throat she thought that she would choke to death. She had never known a man to last for so long.
"Do it for your daddy," he gasped at her, "Suck it good for your daddy!"
The words stung her ears and tears rolled uncontrollably down her face and into the corners of her mouth. She could taste their salt as she tried spot to gag on the monstrous, throbbing creature chat was hammering at the back of her throat. His cock was so long ... so thick, and each time it rubbed over her lips and pounded at the back of her throat she had to swallow to keep from suffocating.
"That's it ... that's it, suck me good, harder now," he groaned, "Suck the head!"
She knew that he had to be close to his climax for she could feel his legs begin to tremble on either side of her face, and he was moaning each time she swallowed when he touched the back of her throat. The pungent, bitter taste of his sperm was slowly oozing from the tiny slit at the end of his penis, coating her lips and tongue.
He grabbed her head furiously again and shoved her face harshly into the juncture between his legs. The hairiness of his thighs and pubic mound tickled her nose and she could hardly breathe, but he held her fast.
"Aaaaggggghhhh," he gasped, as she felt the first strong spurt of his semen shoot into the back of her mouth and throat. It was difficult for her to swallow with her head pushed so far into his crotch and some of the sticky liquid ran down her chin. He seemed to be emptying gallons into her, stream after stream poured into her throat without stopping.
"Take it, baby, take it. Eat it, swallow it," he gasped with each new contraction. She swallowed as fast as she could, but his sperm just seemed to keep coming, endlessly.
"Oooooooohhhhh, aaahhhhhhhh" he groaned letting his hips relax back against the chair slightly. She could feel his stiff prick going limp once again as it slid slipperly out of her mouth and hung loosely against his thigh. She collapsed against the chair, his hand still holding the back of her head as she gasped for breath.
"Sooooo good," he murmured, letting his legs fall loosely apart, while she struggled back to her feet. She staggered dazedly over to her chair and tried to fasten her brassiere, but the catch had been broken when he ripped it from her earlier. She folded it as best she could and tucked it in her pocketbook, slipped her dress over her head and collapsed in the chair, waiting for him to say something.
"Just a minute," he panted, and walked to another door in the back of his office. She heard the water running and waited for him to come out.
When he came back in he acted as if nothing lead happened. He had changed his trousers and shirt and looked as fresh as he had when she first walked in the office.
"Yes Jennifer, I think I'm going to like being your agent. We're going to get along just fine," he grinned. "Now don't worry your pretty little head about what happened this afternoon, we're both adults and these things do happen."
His voice was unemotional, impersonal, totally business-like and she wondered how he could do it. She had been completely shaken by the experience, although it had not been as bad as she had anticipated. In fact, several times she had to remind herself that she had been forced to do what she did, for she found herself almost enjoying it, wanting it, and she wondered what was wrong with her. Vas she really becoming a chip off the old block like her father?
Chapter 4
Paul Wallace kept her busy with interviews, pict[zre-taking, and auditions for the next several weeks. She had been advised that she could have the part in the play Barrish was producing, but as it turned out, the lines had been cut drastically and what was supposed to be a starring role, was now just slightly more than a bit part. She was disappointed, but she didn't let it discourage her, at least she was working, and that was more than a lot of other girls were. Although the part was small, she had to play a young farm girl who is being romanced by all the neighboring young men and her costumes in most places were less than scanty. All the critics said that her body was better than her acting, but blamed it on the part and said that she showed promise. Slowly, but surely she was approached by different magazines for her pictures and before long, her photographs, with little or nothing on, were all over the country.
She had heard that other big stars had gotten their start like this, and Mr. Wallace said that the exposure was good for her, so she posed for pictures every opportunity she got. She was becoming the youngest sex goddess to hit Hollywood in many years and she was on her way. She knew that she had gotten several of her roles because she had slept with the right people. But she had finally resigned herself to the fact that this was what you had to do, and anything was worth it, anything at all.
Mr. Wallace had given her several lectures about her supposed laxness in her morals, but he was making a play for her too, so he never said very much, except an occasional dig, "Like father, like daughter." He had spread many rumors about her father that were just now coming back to her, and people had warned her to watch out for him, because they were afraid he would take his grudge against her father out on her, but so far she had had no reason to worry. As long as he got to spend a few hours, or sometimes a night, alone with her, he seemed to be relatively happy. She knew that he wanted to be with her only because he felt that he was screwing her father by being with her, but even that didn't matter anymore. She knew that she would make it to the top and no one or nothing was going to stop her now. She didn't care what the other people said, or even that her own agent was criticizing her father, she had to have success, she had to show her father that she could do it. Each day she had a list of rounds that she had to make; she had to see new studios, new casting directors, new producers, and soon she was the best-known new face and body around town. She was careful to accept only the invitations from people who could be of some help to her and not waste her time with the young actors who were asking her out.
.She was finding out that it was not always an easy road to hoe, because there were other young girls who were also willing to sleep with directors and producers in order to get parts, but her body had become so famous through the magazines that she did have a slight edge on the others. The men had seen her picture and were more than anxious to get a first-hand look at it. She knew that this was her biggest weapon and that she would have to use it if she wanted to guarantee her stardom. From time to time she wondered if her father realized that she would have to go through to make it, but even if he did, he would never admit it to her, his pride wouldn't allow it. He couldn't admit that his little girl was sleeping around in order to get parts. Her parts had never really been anything outstanding, but one day Mr. Wallace told her that one of the major studios was casting a girl of just her type and they had called and asked to run a screen test on her. She could hardly sleep for days, but she knew that she would have to be in top shape, for the cameras show every little flaw, every error and she had to be perfect. Perfect!
She rehearsed her lines for hours each day until she was sure she knew them without faltering, and on the day of the test, Mr. Wallace picked her up and escorted her to the studio. Everyone at the gate seemed to know him and he waved and nodded at various people around the lot calling them by name.
She was impressed, but nervous and she wdndered what the producer would be like she had to audition for. She hoped that he was not another fat, balding, horny man that would pinch her, stare through her clothes and finally tell her that she would have to go to bed with him before they would consider her. She wasn't sure she could go through another experience like the others had been.
Mr. Wallace directed her through a maze of corridors and finally to the end of a long hallway and knocked on the door.
"Grant, are you in there?" he called. "I'm here with your new star!"
She could hear a voice chuckling from inside and answering, "Come on in, Paul. You too, Miss New Star, let's have a look at you."
The man who was standing sideways bending over a chair polishing his shoes was Grant Roberts, the producer of the film she was to test for. He also did most of the directing and casting, but his official title was that of a producer. He looked up as they came in and gave her an appraising, forthright look.
"You are lovely, Jennifer," he said, "I don't think all your pictures do you justice."
She blushed and smiled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts," she said.
"No, my name is Grant to my friends and I hope we're going to be friends."
She wondered what he meant by that, but her outlook had become rather cynical whenever anyone began like they wanted to be friends, that she almost laughed out loud. It was such a polite, simple statement, and her mind was already running in and out of the bedroom!
She studied Grant Roberts as he polished his shoes. He had a medium build, not very muscular, but his suit was well tailored and obviously very expensive, his shoes were alligator with slightly pointed toes, but somehow didn't look effeminate; in fact he looked very stylish, very smart. He caught her looking at him and smiled, "You approve," he said.
"I'm sorry, I guess I was staring," she said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to be rude."
"That's quite all right. In fact, I find it rather flattering. It's been a long time since a young girl as attractive as you has even noticed that I exist." He laughed cheerfully and asked Paul Wallace what was new in his end of the industry.
"Now I know why we producers never get to see any of the new, lovely talent, you agents keep them hidden out of our reach until the right moment. It seems like such a shame," he kidded, winking at Jennifer.
Jennifer took a seat and for the first time in days began to relax. Grant Roberts had such as easy air about him, so much self-assurance, such polish that she couldn't feel uncomfortable.
She judged that he was about forty-five, but the wrinkles around his eyes may have been premature from the hours and hard work of Hollywood. She knew that he had been out here for years and was well established and that always took its toll. He seemed to be a gentle sort of person in comparison to the other hard, calloused men she had met. This man didn't appear to want anything from her but her acting talent.
It was almost a pity, she thought to herself, for here was a man that she wouldn't mind having an affair with, in fact, she'd probably enjoy it.
"Are you ready for your screen test?" he asked her. "I don't want you to be nervous. I know it's easy to say, but honestly, all we look for in something like this is how you come across on movie film. The speaking part, the voice we can always work with later if we find we have someone who photographs and projects well."
She nodded and told him that she would do her best and she hoped that he wouldn't be disappointed.
"Are you going to stick around for lunch, Paul," Grant asked him. "I'll buy."
"Sorry, I can't this morning, but why don't you take Jennifer, she doesn't have any more appointments after this one. Thought I'd let her rest for a day!"
"You're one step ahead of me. I was going to suggest that myself. Will you go?" he said turning to her.
"I'd love to, but maybe you'll change your mind after you see the film clips."
"I doubt that, and besides, I love gorgeous, lively company for my meals and I refuse to take no for an answer."
She laughed and told him she would be delighted. She had never met anyone in his position with such a good nature and sense of humor. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled and she found herself strangely attracted to him.
Mr. Wallce left and Grant showed her to the make-up room where they would have one of the studio cosmeticians put the finishing touches on her make-up and then bring her onto the sound stage.
She was ready in about fifteen minutes and her heart was in her stomach as she walled on the stage. She had to do a scene by herself, pretending that she was trying to communicate with someone, someone she loved, but she was afraid to go to them in person. It was a very tender scene and her face had an angelic sereneness that had not come through in her other pictures. They were testing her this way so that they could determine her versatility.
Grant Roberts watched almost in awe as Jennifer went through the scene. She seemed to project an innocence that had a strangely exciting, animalistic appeal. She read her lines smoothly, selfassuredly and he thought that she would be the biggest new star to come along in that decade.
When she finished, she turned to him and said, "Well, how did I do?"
"You were marvelous, honey," he answered, "I'm sure that the test will be a huge success, so don't worry about it. Ready for lunch?"
His casual attitude made her a little nervous, but he seemed to be so sure of her success that she decided that she'd relax and enjoy his company even if she didn't get the part.
He took her to a small restaurant a few blocks from the studio and he told her what he thought of her potential as a star while they casually sipped martinis. His eyes met hers in a frank, honest gaze while he spoke and she found this rather unnerving. She had never dealt with a man quite like him and she wasn't sure what she should do or say. He hadn't propositioned her like the other producers she had come in contact with, he seemed so much more of a gentleman and soon she found herself telling him about the problems she had had getting an agent, getting calls and how she was just becoming discouraged when he had called Mr. Wallace.
"Paul has been a friend of mine for years," he said. "When he said that you'd be perfect for the part, I knew that I had a winner. He's never let me down."
She felt as though she wanted to throw her arms around him, kiss him and love him. She felt a tenderness for him that she had never felt for anyone before and it excited her. She new that he found her attractive because although his eyes were cool, the expression on his face let her know that he had noticed her as a woman, as well as an actress. They ordered second martinis and then thirds and her head was very light by the time their lunch arrived.
"I don't know how I can thank you," she said coyly, as she nibbled at the salad in front of her. "You've done so much to help me must by talking to me, giving me the opportunity to finally make it big, it's all so marvelous."
She was hoping that he would suggest a date for later on in the week, or even that night, but he didn't seem to take her bait, so she ate the rest of her lunch in silence, hoping that he would say something.
They sat there for several hours and talked before he finally said, "I had better get back to the studio and take a look at the prints of your test. I'll call Paul in the morning and let him know how they turned out, but don't you worry, I'm sure it will be fine."
"I won't be able to sleep all night," she sighed, "I'll be too nervous waiting to hear myself !"
He smiled at her, patted her hand gently and excused himself and left the restaurant. She sat there for a while longer sipping her coffee and wondering how she would be able to get him to ask her out. For the first time in her life she wasn't sure how to handle a man!
By noon the next day she couldn't wait any longer so she called Paul Wallace's office but lie was out. The suspense was gnawing at her nerves and she thought that she would faint from the sheer waiting, so hesitantly she dialed the number of the film studio and asked for Grant Roberts.
"Hello Jennifer," his voice said cheerily. "I was just trying to reach you."
"Oh," she said. "Well, I just tried to call Paul., but he's out and I can't stand the suspense anymore. How'd I do?"
He laughed and said, "You came through with flying colors. We're getting the script to you as soon as possible and we should be ready to go into rehearsals in about five weeks."
Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly speak, and she didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.
"Are you still there," he asked, still chuckling. "You haven't fainted or something?"
"No ... no, I'm here, I'm just fine. In fact, I've never been better in my whole life."
"Well then how about celebrating with me tonight. Do you have any other plans?"
"Absolutely none," she said, not believing this additional good luck. "I'd love to celebrate with you.
"Good. I'll pick you up about eight so get dressed in your very best. This is going to be a night to remember."
She hung the receiver up and stood there for several minutes letting it all sink in. Somehow this one break had made everything right again, justified every man she had had to sleep with, let paw her, humiliate her. She was going to make it and there was nothing in her way now!
She could hardly wait for eight o'clock and she took extra care in getting ready. She was just smoothing out the last folds in her tight-fitting skirt when her phone rang and he told her that he was waiting for her in the lobby. Her knees were shaking as she walked to the elevator and she nearly stumbled head first into the car. She couldn't understand why she should feel so unsure of herself now, why this one man had this affect on her, but she did know that he was going to be something very special to her.
"You're more beautiful than ever," he said as she walked across the lobby to meet him. "You're so beautiful!"
The evening seemed to fly by, the dinner, the champagne, the dancing. He had held her close, verv close while they were dancing, his hips pressed tightly against her and she wondered whether he would be her lover that night, but he said nothing. She didn't know what to say to let him know that she wanted him to make love to her, what she could do to show him that she wanted him.
It was early in the morning when he took her back to the hotel. He didn't ask to come up to her room and she didn't feel that she could invite him without being obvious, so she resigned herself to the fact that he just wanted to be her friend, yet it made her feel very unattractive and undesirable.
"We're going to be seeing a lot of each other," he said kissing her lightly on the lips. "So get a good night's sleep and be fresh and ready in the afternoon, we have the script to go over."
She felt a great disappointment in the bottom of her stomach as she climbed the stairs to her room, not bothering to take the elevator. She couldn't understand why he hadn't even tried to get her into bed, it just didn't make sense. Of all the men she hadn't wanted to go to bed with, that was the first thing on their mind, but now that she had found someone that she could care for, he didn't seem to be interested. She decided that she would just play it cool and see what would happen.
They worked together every day in rehearsals and saw each other for dinner or drinks several times a week, but it still didn't seem as though their relationship was getting anywhere. Her nerves were shattered and she began to find it difficult to work, she couldn't concentrate and it was showing in her acting.
"What's the matter with you, baby," he asked her one day. "You just aren't the same."
"I can't explain it, Grant," she murmured, "I don't think you'd understnad."
"I'd understand," he said seriously, "I love you."
"You what!" she gasped.
"I love you," he repeated, "and I'd like to marry you."
She couldn't believe her ears, it didn't make any sense. She couldn't understand how he could act the way he did and still be in love with her, but he had said he was and that was all that mattered.
"You really mean it," she said, tears of hope and joy streaming down her face.
He held her close and whispered, "Of course I mean it, and I want to get married right away ... this week."
"Oh yes, darling," she said, "I want to marry you too.
She floated through the rest of the day, barely able to concentrate on her lines, thinking only that he loved her and was going to marry her. It didn't seem possible that so many good things could happen to her all at once and she was afraid that she would wake up and find that she'd been dreaming.
When she got back to her hotel that night there was a letter there from her father. It had been so long since she had heard from him and in fact, she wasn't even sure where he was, but the letter was postmarked from Nice and said that he had been filming there. He told her that he had heard of her success and that he was very proud of her and she should keep up the hard work. Nothing could have made her perfect day more perfect than that letter and it had arrived at just the right time.
They were married in a quiet civil ceremony later that week and decided to go to Paris for a week's honeymoon. She had never been to Paris, but she was sure that it would be just perfect with Grant there. He had been there before several times on business and would be able to show her the city first hand. They boarded the Pan American jet just an hour after they were married so that they would be able to spend their first night together in Paris. She could hardly wait to have him make love to her, hold her, kiss her, and she kept shuffling her feet nervously throughout the entire flight.
"Oh darling," she whispered to him. "I want you so much. It's so hard to wait."
He kissed her cheek softly and smiled down at her.
"It's only a few more hours, my love," he said tenderly.
It was almost dawn when they landed at Orly Airport and the sky was clouded and grey. The dampness in the air was chilling and she huddled closer to Grant in the taxi as it made its way through the narrow streets to the hotel where they were to stay.
"It's not very cheery now, is it?" she asked. "It's so damp."
"Paris is usually damp, love," he said. "But it is a romantic city and I know you're going to love it."
"I'd love being anywhere with you," she murmured.
The cab pulled up in front of the Plaza Athenee and the driver helped Grant with the luggage. It didn't take long before they were settled in their room and she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She wondered what kind of a lover her husband would be because he had always been so tender and compassionate. She lowered the straps of her negligee, a white lace gown that fell in a low curve around her full, round breasts, so that the voluptuous bulge of the soft, white mounds was fully visible.
He had told her to get undressed first while he unpacked, using the excuse that it always took women longer in the bath than men. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and glistened like spun sand. She looked at herself in the mirror and she knew that she had probably never looked more beautiful. Her cheeks had a fresh glow regardless of the many hours she had been without sleep, her eyes sparkled and her skin was like a white satin cushion, soft and pliable.
When she walked into the room Grant was still dressed and toying with unpacking the suitcase.
"I'll be with you in a minute, darling," he told her, and walked into the bathroom.
She turned down the covers of the bed and got in, wondering why he didn't seem as anxious as she, as she lay there waiting for him to join her. She turned down the lights to a bare glow and closed her eyes. She could hardly believe that so much had happened to her since she had been in Hollywood; she had become a well-known starlet, fallen in love with a famous producer and was married to him, there was no stopping her now.
It seemed an eternity before he opened the bathroom door and came into the room. He turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to her, reaching out and pulling her close to him.
"Oh darling," she whispered softly, stroking his strong, hairy chest. "I've waited so long for you to hold me like this."
He kissed her deeply, his tongue darting between her teeth and deep into her throat as he rubbed his body next to hers, his bands running over her breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the soft roundness of her hips. She pushed closer to him, grasping him, holding onto him with an animalistic, desperate need.
She could feel the strength of his body, his muscular build, but the hardness between his loins wasn't there and she was confused. She ran her hands over his hips and fondled his limp organ tenderly, trying to raise it to its full length and hardness, but no matter how hard she tried he was riot responding.
"What's the matter, darling," she almost begged, her body on fire with a heated desire that needed to be satisfied, a craving that had to be sated.
"I guess I'm a bit tired after all the excitement," he answered lamely and pushed the covers down around his ankles and got out of bed.
"Don't leave me now," she cried, "please ... don't leave."
"I'll be back in just a minute, darling," he said, his tone a little annoyed and he walked back into the bathroom.
She lay there confused, hurt and tearful, as she waited for him to come back to her and consummate their marriage.
The room was dark when she heard him close the bathroom door and come back to the side of the bed.
"Here I am, my love," he said, pulling the covers up over his body once again and reaching out for her.
"Oh yes," she moaned, circling her hands around his waist and pulling him toward her once again.
His manner was more confident now as his nands kneaded the soft, smoothness of her buttocks and he searched for the juncture between her legs, separating the tiny, pink lips of her ach ing vagina and teasing the nub of her clitoris until she thought she would go out of her mind.
"Take me, darling," she groaned, pressing tier hips against his and urging him on top of her. Her hands reached for the fleshiness of his maleness once again, then stopped suddenly.
"W-w-what," she gasped.
"Sssshhhh, darling," he tried to comfort tier. "I just need some help tonight, and I know I can make you happy, happier than you've ever been."
"But I don't understand," she gasped, knowing that what she had touched was not his body at all, but a hard rubber and elastic organ ... a dildo! She thought back to her days in the dormitory and she knew what it was, but she couldn't believe it.
"Don't you want me," she asked, tears of frustration running down her face.
"Of course I do," he said, "but I'm just too tired tonight."
She wanted him . . wanted him desperately, not some artificial implement. She wanted her husband!
His hands were busy manipulating between her legs until she thought she would scream, but it was just too humiliating to have her own husband have to use something false to satisfy her, it was too degrading.
"Don't you love me, don't you want me," she begged him again, her whole being consumed with agony and desire, tortured beyond the point of return.
"Relax, baby," he said, but his voice had become more harsh, almost sadistic. "I've got something that will make all the other men you've known look like children. You'll never want it any other way!"
"No," she screamed hysterically. "I can't take it."
"You'll take it, baby, and love it," he said, angling his hips on top of her body and probing at her vaginal opening with the hard rubber instrument. She could feel the hardness of the rubber pressing between her thighs and she tried to squeeze them closer together in order to prevent this mechanical rape, but it was useless.
He seemed to be getting more excited the more she fought to prevent his entry and she couldn't believe that the tender, sensitive man that she had fallen in love with could possibly be capable of humiliating her like this.
"It can't be true," she murmured to herself. "It can't be true."
"It's true ... believe me, it's true," he challenged her. "And you're mine, all mine, YOU; the famous body of the world and you're all mine!" He laughed cruelly as he spoke, and she could feel her nails digging into the solid flesh of his back in an effort to deter him.
"Open up for your daddy," he said, "I'm going to have you... NOW!"
He forced his entire weight down on her, splitting her thighs to a forty-five degree angle so that she lay helpless beneath him. His hands crushed her ample breasts, pinching the nipples cruelly, bruising them and his teeth bit harshly into her neck, then her mouth, nibbling at her lips arid tongue.
"Ooooohhhhh," she groaned, no longer able to contain her own building passion. "My God, I want you so badly!"
"Spread your legs, spread your legs wider ... wider," he ordered her, his hands and fingers taking every ounce of will power from her body.
She could feel her body go limp, helpless, aching with desire as he inched his hips up higher between her legs and the rubber phallus probed once again at her hot, vulnerable pussy. The thickness of the head of his false prick pushed her moist, pink lips apart and eased itself into her waiting channel.
"Aaaggggghhhh," she rasped as she felt the massiveness of the organ force itself between her wid ., spread legs. "Stop ... it hurts!
"Never had a man like this," he choked out, his saliva dripping from his cruelly twisted mouth onto her luscious breasts, "and you'll never want another one!"
She knew that she should protest, fight him, make him stop, but her need was too great and she had to be satisfied, she had to cum!
"Oh God," she whimpered, "Fuck me ... for God's sake, fuck me!"
"Beg me, you little whore," he shouted at her, "that's all you are ... that's all any woman is ... a whore!"
She didn't want to believe that this was her husband who was saying these things to her, the man she had thought would be so kind, so protective, so loving. It didn't seem possible that he too could be a depraved monster, a deviate, a maniac, but it no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was that she would reach her climax, then she would think about what she should do.
"Yes ... yes," she pleaded, "Give it to me ... give it to me!"
She had forgotten that it was not her husband that would be making her reach her climax, that it was just a piece of machinery, a hard rubber prick, it was long and thick and it was filling her desperate need.
He pushed into her violently, stretching the walls of her moist, denied vagina, tearing at the sensitive lining and punishing her with his harsh cruelness.
"You're hurting me," she gasped, "Easy ... easy ... please!"
"You've had enough men... now you're having me," he answered her coldly, not easing on the constant, painful drubbing he was giving her. She could feel the entire length of the dildo as it tore into her, killing her with its hardness and thickness. She had never felt anything so huge or stonelike in her life, she had never been so torn apart before. She tried to relax her muscles, but each time he renewed his effort and increased his stroke she thought that she would lose consciousness.
"You're mine ... you're mine," he whispered thickly against her throat, "you'll never belong to anyone else."
She felt as though she were being impaled on a stake, skewered like a suckling pig for a barbeque and she bit her lips until she could taste the salt of her own blood ooze from her mouth.
He gripped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her soft, velvet hips up from the mattress so that he could increase his leverage and drive the punishing spike even further into her. She felt the thickness of his fingers pull apart her buttock cheeks and run up and down her back crevice, prodding for the tight elastic hole of her anus.
"Aaaaggggggh, uuugggggghhhhhh," she groaned as he pushed one finger into the tiny opening, the skin giving way from his pressure until he was inside her to his first knuckle.
"God ... god ... nooooooo," she screamed as she was being torn apart from both of her openings. His finger worked furiously at her backside as he yanked her up on his never yielding ramrod of rubber. It tore into her cervix, scraping and tearing it apart with every stroke.
She knew that it wouldn't be long before she would faint from the pain, but her body began to react to this horrible rape, she couldn't help herself. She was beyond hope, beyond helping herself as she found herself bucking her hips wildly beneath him.
"Yes ... yes . . fuck me... fuck me ... do it," she gasped, knowing that she would die from frustration if he were to stop.
"That's it, baby," he chuckled, "Tell your daddy what to do. You love it ... tell me you love it!"
"Yes ... yes, I love it ... I want it," she replied as he lashed into her aching body.
She was on the brink of her climax and she could feel the muscles of her vaginal wall contract and expand around the monstrous dildo: The hugeness of the instrument and his steady strokes did not give her a chance to relax or think about anything else but her impending climax.
"There ... there, that's it," she groaned as she felt the lining of her cunt begin to quiver and the juices of her loins begin to flow over his hard, rubber tool.
"Cum ... cum ... you bitch," he cried, "cum for me!"
"I'm cumming ... I'M CUMMING... .I'm cum ming," and her voice diminished into a soft whisper as she felt the last of her contractions halt slowly around the mighty, rock-hard phallus.
Her body began to shake convulsively, sobs of humiliation wracking her body, but he didn't seem to notice and kept pounding further and further into her. The volcano within her had exploded and would quickly run dry, but he had not punished her enough.
"Stop ... please stop," she begged him, but he just laughed and kept pushing his plastic cock into her, hurting her, degrading her.
"He never quits ... " he gasped, throwing all of his weight onto her for one final, cutting stab, the pain ripping through her loins and belly. He rocked back and forth on her for several more minutes until he too became tired, then rolled over on his side of the bed, a sadistic, cruel grin on his face.
"Why didn't you tell me," she asked him, her body quivering from the pain and her crying. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't a real man!"
His hand lashed out and struck her across the face, bringing on a new flood of tears.
"That's more of a man than you've ever had," he spit at her, "and you're going to learn to like it!"
"How can you do this to me ... don't you love me?" she asked again, still not able to face the cold reality of the situation. She couldn't believe that he was impotent!
"You wouldn't have married me," he answered her matter-of-factly, "and I had to have you."
"You're sick," she screamed at him. "You're a sick monster!"
"Call me what you like, my dear wife, but just remember that you are my wife, and I am your husband!"
She turned her back to him and sobbed uncontrollably into her pillow. It didn't seem real, it was too fantastic, too incredible.
"Look at it this way, my love," lie continued, "you've just guaranteed your career when you married me, so there is a good side. Besides, you may even learn to fall in love with my little toy after awhile. You can never tell."
"Never ... never," she vowed to herself as she cried herself to sleep.
He lay back on his pillow, a smile of satisfaction on his face and reached out and touched her shoulder lightly, "My beautiful baby.. . my own."
The next morning she got up before he did and took a long, hot bath. She had to feel clean again, to feel like a woman again. She sat and thought about the events that had led up to her marriage and she wondered how she could have possibly been so naive as to think that he was just a gentleman when he refused to go to bed with her before they were married. At the time she thought that he was so gallant, so sincere ... if she had only known, but that didn't alter the fact that she had fallen in love with him and that would not be so easy to forget.
She decided that she would try to talk to him once again, maybe ask him to get some help, ask him if she could help him. She couldn't bear to see their marriage go down without trying something ... anything.
She wrapped a terry cloth robe around her shoulders and fastened it securely, then tiptoed back to the bed where he was still sleeping. She shook him gently, leaned down and kissed him. The dildo was still strapped to his waist and it looked even more forbidding, more horrible in the broad daylight, so she turned her eyes away.
"Darling," she whispered, "darling, it's time to get up."
"Good morning, love," he said. "You're bright and early."
He looked down at the instrument that vas bound to him and then up at her. It looked so ridiculous strapped onto his sturdy, muscular body, but it didn't seem to bother him.
"I'd like to talk to you," she said weakly. "Will you get up so we can have some lunch, it's after eleven and I'm starved."
"Certainly, darling," he said, hopping out of bed and walking to the bathroom, the thick, long dildo bobbing up and down as he walked.
"Oh God," she said to herself, "What am I going to do?"
It didn't take him long to shower and shave and dress and he looked like a Greek god as he adjusted the ascot around his throat and kissed her swiftly, but tenderly on the mouth.
"I didn't mean to frighten you, my dear, but I'm afraid you'll just have to live with me the way I am, because I will never divorce you, I love you too much."
She almost found this difficult to believe, but she smiled at him the best she could and followed him to the elevator and rode down to the lobby in silence.
"Why don't we have lunch at a tiny little cafe I know of about three blocks from here. The Paris air may give you a different look on life."
"That sounds marvelous, darling," she said, taking his arm and walking out into the cool sunshine.
"See, the sun does shine here sometimes," he said laughing down at her.
They seated themselves at a table in one corner of the cafe and ordered coffee and pastry. She didn't know where she should begin or how she should broach the subject of last night, but she knew that the air had to be cleared or she could not go on. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to go on, but she had to make this one last attempt.
"How long have you been like this," she asked hesitantly.
"Like what," he answered, knowing full well what she meant, but trying to humiliate her into saying it herself.
"Impotent," she whispered.
"As long as I can remember," he said cooly. "I've desired women, but I've never really had one."
"Never!" she said, the look of shock obvious on her face.
"Never," he said, sipping his coffee as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Is there some medical reason," she asked hopefully. "Maybe you could see a doctor."
"Not interested really," he went on. "I like doing things my way, the way I've always done them."
She felt her heart sinking into her stomach. She couldn't talk to him, he wasn't interested in changing things and she knew no matter what she said or how much she begged him, that he would never listen to her.
"But we can't go on through our whole lives like this," she pleaded, "it's just not fair, it's not normal."
"Who's to say what's normal," he chided, "besides I like it, and you can't say that I didn't satisfy you now, can you?"
"No ... no," she stammered, blushing furiously remembering how her body had reacted to his false penis.
"Well then, there's nothing more to discuss, is there?"
She could tell by the tone in his voice that he considered the conversation ended.
She gazed around the cafe hoping that she could fix her eyes on something so she wouldn't have to look at him. She felt so defeated, so degraded and the thought of going through her life making love to some rubber prick was more than she could bear.
She was staring without realizing it and a few minutes later a young man came up to their table.
"I beg your pardon," he said with a slight French accent, "but you look so familiar, do I know you? I saw you looking at me and I thought that maybe you knew me too."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I didn't realize that I was staring," she said embarrassed, because she hadn't even noticed the man, she had had her mind so far away, she wasn't aware that she was even looking at anything, much less anyone.
"That's perfectly all right, young man," Grant said, "This is my wife, Jennifer Rhodes, and I'm Grant Roberts. She uses her maiden name professionally and maybe that's why she looks familiar."
"Of course," he said, surprised. "You're the new film star that everyone is so excited about. I must say that you are much prettier in person."
"Thank you," she stammered, as her husband motioned to the waiter to bring another chair.
"I'm Dan Tobin. I'm studying here in Paris for a few years before I go back to the States, I want to be an artist."
"Admirable," Grant said. "The world can always use more beauty. I hope you succeed with your endeavors. "
"May I offer you two people a drink ... so, sherry, cognac, anything?" the young man said, snapping his fingers for the waiter.
"I think I'd like a cognac," Grant said, "One for you darling?"
She nodded and he told the waiter to bring three drinks. The three of them sat there for most of the afternoon sipping their brandies and talking about what life was like in the States these days and 1-:e, in turn, told them what was new and exciting A'0. Paris.
Jennifer just sat there not contributing to the conversation, but found herself completely, enthralled with the young man's bohemian, f(jrward manner. He had made it obvious that be thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and from time to time he would let his knee brush against hers underneath the table. It was reassuring to know that her last night's experience didn't show, at least outwardly, and she wished that she were not married and that she could have a real man, like him, to make love to her.
It didn't seem to bother her husband that the young man was obviously infatuated with her and found it a great honor to be with them; in fact, she thought that he was almost encouraging their being friends.
"My wife has never been to Paris," Grant said. "I've been here on business many times so it's not new to me. Perhaps you'd like to show her some of the newer sights while we're here. I do have some things that I will have to take care of and I would appreciate it."
She was surprised at his attitude, for she thought that he would never let her out of his sight and it didn't seem to fit with what he had said last night, but she didn't object.
"I'd like to show you Paris," he told her, "that is, if it's all right with you."
"That would be just fine. I'd enjoy it," she said, smiling at him, and glancing at her husband for his reaction, but there was none except for a self-assured smile on his face.
"Why don't you join us for dinner at our hotel tonight," Grant offered, "You can be our guest, and we'd love the company."
"I'd love to," he said, "I'd love to very much. Thank you for the invitation."
He handed the young man the hotel's card and told him to meet them there around seven, then took Jennifer by the arm and told her that they would have to go now because he wanted to take a walk before it was time for dinner.
"Good-bye, Dan," she called back at him, smiling warmly, "We'll see you tonight."
He smiled back at her and winked and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing that she was. It certainly was going to be a very interesting honeymoon!
They walked down to the Champs Elysee and stopped at several of the shops to look at the art, the books and buy some postcards to send back to Hollywood. She could feel the magic in the air now, but it wasn't because she was a new bride, it was because of the young man and her anticipation of what was to happen.
"He was a very charming man," her husband said finally. "Seems to be bright, too."
"Yes, he does," she said simply, "and very handsome."
"I'm sure he'll show you a good time while we're here, darling. I hope you didn't mind my asking him, but there will be a few days when I will have to take care of some business and I wouldn't want you to get bored."
"No, that was very thoughtful of you," she replied. "I must say that you surprised me somewhat, but I am very pleased that you arranged it."
He smiled at her, but she couldn't read what was going on behind his searching eyes, she had no way of knowing.
It seemed as though they walked for blocks before they finally reached the Rue de Montagne and the hotel.
"I'd like to take a shower before dinner," she said when they reached the room. "Why don't you rest and then I can make-up while you're getting ready."
"Wonderful, my love," and he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes for a quick nap.
She let the needle sharp points of water tickle her skin into a rosy glow, the coolness cleansing and refreshing her. She still felt a little dizzy from all the cognacs, but she was sure that she would feel better after she had had something to eat.
She dried herself with a rough towel, pummicing her skin until it was smooth and glowing. She sprayed her cologne generously over her entire body, then powdered lavishly. She wanted to look her best for their handsome young dinner guest.
She couldn't help but hum to herself as she laid out her fanciest, sheerest lingerie and slipped into her robe so that she could take her time with her make-up.
"Your turn, darling," she called to her husband, waking him so that he could get ready too.
He stumbled into the bathroom, balancing himself on the chair of her bureau when he passed.
"Guess I had more to drink than I thought," he said, "I'll have to watch myself."
"I felt dizzy, too," she said, "but the shower ought to help."
She applied her eyeliner and mascara, careful not to wear it too heavily, because she wanted tea appear as young and fresh as possible. She didn't need much anyway and she didn't want to intimidate him, she wanted him to think of her as any other girl he might have met in a Paris cafe. She felt a little silly getting excited over having a, young man join them for dinner, especially since she was supposed to be the blushing bride, but she couldn't help it, she was looking forward to it.
She slipped into her lingerie and was just brushing her hair when her husband came out of the shower.
"You are so beautiful, my dear. No wonder I'm the envy of all the men. I've seen their eyes follow you when you were in Hollywood, and now the eyes of Paris are admiring you. It's very flattering."
She knew that he was only flattered for his own ego, that he loved her only because she made him look good and not because he was proud of her, but that didn't matter now.
She was ready on the dot of eight when the phone rang and Dan told her that he would be waiting in the bar for them.
"Why don't you go ahead and join him for a drink while I finish getting ready," her husband told her. "I'll only be a few more minutes."
"Okay," she answered, picked up her pocketbook and walked to the elevator. Her heart was beating like a girl on her first date and she knew that she must be blushing.
He stood up when she came into the bar and pulled up a seat next to him. His eyes were fixed upon the low neckline of her dress and she heard him draw in his breath.
"You look ravishing tonight," he said, his eyes not leaving the cleavage of her full, soft breasts.
She smiled self-consciously, thanked him and ordered a martini.
"Make that two, he told the waiter and settled back in his seat. "Your husband is an interesting man," he continued. "You must love him very much." She knew that he was asking a leading question, but she really couldn't say anything else but that yes, she did love him, although at times he was hard to understand.
"All artistic people are hard to understand at times," he told her. "I have my moments too."
She hoped that he couldn't tell that she was nervous, but she found it difficult to talk with him, she didn't know what to say, how to act. She knew that he wanted her, his eyes told her that, and she didn't know how to let him know that she would like the same thing.
They were just finishing their first drink when her husband joined them at the table.
"We're one ahead of you," Dan said lightly, "so why don't you have a double?"
"Sounds great," he answered, and they ordered the second round. They finished their drinks then told the maitre 'd that they were ready to be seated for dinner. Jennifer had never seen a restaurant so elegant, so formal and plush. All the waiters were dressed in red dinner jackets and walked among the tables quickly and quietly making sure that everyone was seated, had their order taken and had everything that they needed. The service was superb and made the meal relaxing and enjoyable. They ordered the specialty of the house which was highly seasoned, so they managed to finish two bottles of a dry red wine while they were eating. Her head felt light, but she had never enjoyed such luxury before. Her husband's head began to nod as they were finishing their desert and the waiter brought their brandy.
"Do you feel all right, Grant?" she asked.
"Just a bit too much of the grape, I'm afraid. Wine always makes me sleepy."
"Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked, hoping that he would say that he would be fine, but he didn't.
"Why don't we have our after dinner drinks in the room," he suggested. "Do you mind, Dan?"
"No, no, not at all. I can go if you would prefer to turn in, I know it's been a long day."
"No, that's perfectly all right, you're more than welcome to come up, isn't he, dear," he said, turning to Jennifer.
"Why yes, of course," she said, glad that he had taken that choice rather than excusing himself.
He paid the bill and they all went up to their suite to relax over their brandies and coffee. She had never seen Grant this way before, even when they had been at Hollywood parties. He had always prided himself on being able to hold his liquor and had constantly warned her not to drink too much, so this was completely out of character. She wondered if she were finding out another new aspect of his personality that hadn't shown through before their marriage.
She sat down next to Dan on the couch and he began to tell her about all the places, the museums, theatres, monuments that he would be showing her and gave some of their background so that she would know what to look for when they finally took their tour. Grant was seated in a large, comfortable chair across from them, but after he drank the last of his coffee he announced that he was; afraid that he was drunk and was going to bed.
"I'd better leave," Dan said, starting to rise.
"No ... no, stay, I'm sure Jenny isn't tired and this is her first real night in Paris, so please stay as long as you like."
Jennifer looked at him, back at Dan and then at him again. She didn't know what to say, it was as though he were purposely throwing them together, as though he were testing her.
Dan sat down again next to her and waited until he heard the bedroom door close and the water running the bathroom before he spoke.
"I'm glad he left us alone. I've wanted to be alone with you since I first saw you."
"You musn't say that," she interrupted him. "I'm married."
"I know you're married, but your looks tell me something different."
He moved closer to her on the couch and put his arm in back of her, tickling her shoulder lightly, teasingly, and she quivered from nervousness.
"You mustn't," she said, trying to look him directly in the eyes, but she knew that she didn't sound convincing, because she didn't want to stop him, but she was afraid that her husband would hear them.
"You don't mean that," he said hoarsely and pulled her roughly towards him and kissed her soundly, deeply on her full, moist mouth.
"Ooooohhhhh," she sighed, letting her body collapse against his willingly, abandonly.
"Turn out the light," he whispered to her and she reached over and flicked the switch on the lamp. Only a thin stream of light shown through the crack in the door that led to the hall and she got up for a moment, pulling herself away from his embrace and stood by her husband's door. She could hear the soft wheez of his snoring and she returned to the couch.
"Come here," he said softly, and she immediately fell back into his arms.
"You're so soft, so beautiful," he murmured in her ear, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her again, this time with more urgency. Their tongues met and flicked in and out of each other's mouths, searching, rubbing passionately.
She could feel his hands find the zipper of her dress and slowly, quietly ease it down until he could pull it from her shoulders, revealing the full, swelling rise of her breasts above her brassiere and the silky, smoothness of her shoulders and arms,
"My darling," he whispered, "I need you so badly."
She knew that she had to be crazy to let this young man make love to her with her husband right in the next room, but she longed to feel a man inside of her again, a real man, real flesh, not a substitute of hard rubberl His arms encircled her and he cupped her breasts in his hands, tweaking gently at the nipples and forcing them into erectness,
"Mmmmmmmmm," she groaned, the tenseness already building between her legs as she felt herself succumbing to her desires.
"Take your dress off," he ordered her gently, and let her go for just a moment so that she could let it slip onto the floor. Her sheer, scanty underwear did little to conceal any of her body and he gasped audibly as she stood before him in just her stockings, garter belt, tiny bikini panties and her brassiere. Her legs were trembling with excitement as he pulled her to him and began kissing the exposed flesh of her midriff and stomach.
She could feel the hardness of his penis beneath his trousers and she closed her hand over the huge, throbbing lump and massaged it gently.
"Oh yes, ... yes," he said. "It belongs to you."
"I want you," she answered, moving her body down further on the couch so that he could lean over her. ..
His hands reached down and unclasped the hook of her brassiere and he pulled it away from her body, letting her ripe, cushiony mounds spring into his view. He closed his mouth over one breast and sucked harshly on the nipple until she was wriggling wildly under him and biting her lips to keep from crying out.
They caressed one another, running their fingers over each other like they were blind and trying to indent the impression of each others bodies on their hands.
"Take o$ your pants, darling," she implored him after she found that she could not easily manipulate the zipper of his fly. She wanted to hold his hardened cock in her hand, massage it, knead it until he thought he would burst. He got up from the couch for just a moment and stripped quickly, leaving all his clothes on a heap on the floor, then fell on top of her on the couch. His experienced fingers quickly undid the stays of her garters and her stockings slid down her long, slender legs and onto the cushion so that the only thing covering her body was her sheer, black panties. His fingers quickly slid beneath the tight elastic until he could feel the soft down of her pubic hair, the moistness of her swollen, aching vaginal lips and thin slit of her soft cuntal opening. His thumb pressed against the fleshy, knob of her clitoris and rubbed it into immediate erectness, until she writhed and wiggled, pushing her hips up solidly against his.
"Ooooohhhhh yes ... yes ... yes," she cried softly until his mouth crushed down on hers and his tongue slipped between her teeth and deep into her throat as though he were trying to swallow her. He rolled his head on hers, back and forth, bringing moans of ecstasy from her slightly parted lips. She couldn't control herself, his love-making seemed so natural, so right and she wanted hire more than anything in the world at that moment.
She could feel the heat of his throbbing penis eon. her thighs and the jerking against her flimsy pa:)ties as his fingers dug quickly into the opening between her legs. His nails scraped lightly on the sensitive, wet lining of her vagina as she tried to force him deeper and deeper into her. He felt as though he were one giant penis, a mighty phalli u who had the most beautiful woman in the world. 1. beneath him, waiting for him to enter her.
He ripped anxiously at her thin panties, tearing them from her soft, rounded buttocks in two pieces and he moved his hips up on hers until she coup' feel his thick, long, hard prick probing between her legs. She raised her knees slightly anal pulled him savagely down on her.
"Fuck me ... fuck me," she begged. "Please . . please ... now ... .ow!"
He angled himself and let his penis tease the hungry, vulnerable opening, rubbing it up and down over her. clitoris. His hands crushed her breasts, squeezing them cruelly like they were made of rubber, pushing her further and further into the cushions of the couch. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, then ran his hands down until they almost encircled her narrow waist.
"Please ... please," she groaned, but he was not ready yet, he wanted her to be totally consumed in her passion when he took her.
He moved backwards on the couch, raising up on his knees so that he could run his tongue down the line between her breasts, over her belly and tickle the smooth flesh of her inner thighs.
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh," she gasped as his face moved between her legs and he forced her one leg back over the top of the sofa, spreading her loins wide apart. He mouthed and licked her soft, sensitive, pussy like a hungry maniac, sucking harshly on the erect, pink clitoris, flicking it wildly back and forth.
"Dan ... Dan," she choked out, "Oooohhhhhh."
She opened her eyes slightly so that she could look down at him and tightened her thighs around his bobbing head, holding him to her in a vice-like grip. She thought that she had seen a small flicker of light coming from somewhere in the room, but then put it out of her mind remembering that there was a light in the hall, besides nothing mattered now except their love-making.
"I'm going to cum," she gasped. "I'm going to cum!"
He licked and sucked her damp, hot cunt more furiously, driving his tongue into her vagina and bit gently at her swollen vaginal lips. She bucked her hips up toward his face never wanting him to stop when suddenly there was a flash of light. She looked over where she had seen the flash and there was her husband standing there outlined by a dire light from the next room with a Poloroid camera in his hand and a sadistic, lecherous grin on his face. His look was not one of anger, but one of lust and depravation.
"Oh God ... nooooo," she groaned, but the young man did not stop for a moment. He had not seen the flash because his eyes were closed and leis face was totally buried between her legs. She tried to push his shoulders away from her, but he only clung to her more tightly.
"Don't let me bother you," her husband said coldly, "I like to see you like this ... don't stop now."
Her body tensed slightly, but she knew that she would have to have her climax or she would go out of her mind.
Her husband moved in back of them and adjusted his camera for another shot.
"Open your legs wider," he ordered her, "I want to catch everything on film."
Only then did Dan lift his head for just a second, turning his face sideways slightly to see who had spoken. It hadn't sounded like Jennifer, but in his own sensual state he couldn't be sure where the voice had come from. His eyes opened wide in horror and he was struggling to get his balance on the couch, but her hands pulled him back to her again and she locked her knees around the sides of his face so that he would not leave her hanging, frustrated.
"Don't stop ... not now ... please not now," she pleaded with him. "I want you and my husband doesn't care!"
His hands ran up her body and held her breasts tightly, rubbing them back and forth, teasing the already sore, erect nipples until she was moaning from the pain and the pleasure of his caress.
"Aaaggggghhh, ooooohhhhhh," she gasped, as he pulled his head away from between her grasp between her thighs and moved quickly up onto her body once again. He knelt over her like a stud horse, his huge, hard prick dangling down and jerking upwards every few seconds, the head purplish from the rush of blood through his loins.
"Open wider," her husband ordered her again, "spread your legs wider!"
Dan grabbed her knees and forced her legs as far apart as they could possibly go and then lowered his body just enough so that his mammoth, pulsing prick just touched the lips of her orifice.
"That's it," Grant shouted as he snapped another picture, then another.
"Please ... please," she begged him. "Give it to me!"
Slowly, carefully he began to shove his mighty. throbbing cock into the open, wet slit, rubbing the head back and forth for just a moment before h let it slip into her. He eased it in gently, with a: frustrating slowness that she thought would drive her crazy. just when she thought that he would give her his full length and crush her body with. his, he would withdraw his long, thick phallus out again until just the bulbous head was inside her.
"For God's sake.. . give it to me," she screamed, her body wracked with passion and need. She raised her hips in an effort to force him in her to the hilt, but he carefully balanced himself so that he could control his strokes.
"Delightful," her husband said, "marvelous."
She couldn't believe that he was actually allowing this to happen, but when she glanced at hire for just a moment, he had the camera on focus again, but as she looked at his naked body she saw that he had an erection ... a huge, bobbing erection!
"Ooooohhhhh," she groaned, "I've got to have you.. . all of you."
"Here it is, baby," Dan choked out, throwing all his weight behind his thrust and drove his cruel spike as deep between her legs as he could possibly go.
"Aaaggggghhhh," she screamed from the sudden, excruciating pain she felt at the back of her cervix, for although she was wet and ready for him, she did not realize his full size and width. It felt even larger than the dildo!
She pulled her thighs back toward her shoulders until there seemed to be nothing but a huge gaping space between her legs, and she choked. on a scream as he thrust into her again and again, hammering at the very pit of her being, tearing her, making her cum.
"I'm cumming ... I'M CUMMING... " she gasped as she could feel the floodtide of all her emotions and desire release and pour over his throbbing, massive cock. He thrust into her harder and faster and she could feel his huge cudgel grow even thicker and she knew that he, too, was about to reach the apex of his lust, and a few seconds after she ground out the last of her climax, she felt his hot, pungent liquid shoot into her like a cannon. He pushed and pushed until every last drop of his sperm had been dragged from his pulsing cock, then he relaxed and lay on top of her, running his hands affectionately, gently over her totally exhausted body.
"You were wonderful," her husband said, seating himself in the chair opposite the couch. "The pictures are clear ... and so interesting. You really made quite a couplel You fuck well together!"
They both stared at him with disgust, but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were void of emotion and Jennifer glanced down at his once erect penis and saw tiny small dribblings of his own sperm on his thigh.
She didnt know what to say, what to do. She had married a man who got hisexcitement in deviated ways and he expected her to be a part of them. She couldn't believe that be had actually taken the pictures, but at the time her mind was not clear from her own passion, but now she wondered if she would ever be able to get those pictures away from him. She doubted it, but she would have to try.
After a few minutes Dan got up from the couch and walked into the bathroom, picking his clothes up from the floor and carrying them in with him.
"You're a monster," she spat at her husband. "You're sick!"
"Not at all, my love," he said sarcastically. "I like to see you enjoying yourself so much, and I don't think that's sick."
She closed her eyes, not able to look at him anymore. Any love she bad felt for him, even the hope that they could work things out, diminished as she fell into an exhausted sleep on the couch, still naked, with Dan's sperm still wet and warm between her legs.
Chapter 5
The next morning she got up and took a quick shower, hoping that she could get away from the hotel without waking her husband, but he heard her as she closed the bathroom door.
She was already dressed and about to pick up her coat when he asked, "Where are you going"
"Out for a walk," she replied matter-of-factly, not caring whether he agreed to let her go or not.
"All right, I'll see you later or leave a message for you where I'll be." he said, then rolled over and went back to sleep.
She had never felt so disgusted, so frustrated in her life. She didn't know what she was going to do next, how she could get out of this depraved situation, and she wished that she could go to her father and ask him what she should do, but she just couldn't let him know what kind of a man she had married.
The air was crisp and she buttoned her coat tightly around her, but she knew that a lot of the cold was inside her and not in the weather. She walked down the Rue de Montagne until she reached the Champs Elysee. Although it was still fairly early in the morning, the boulevardiers were sitting and strolling along the street, whistling and making flattering comments to the girls as they walked by. She wished that she could get away from her husband, go back to Hollywood, home, anywhere, but she knew that he would never consent to a divorce and she had never felt so trapped in her life.
She walked for what seemed miles, then decided to rest on a bench by the Seine and try to straighten things out in her mind. She sat there for about an hour when she suddenly noticed that an older man had joined her on the other end of the bench. She had been so wrapped in her own thoughts that she did not notice him sit down. She looked over at him and smiled. He was about her father's age and looked very pleasant, and she wondered if he spoke English. She had walked so far that she wasn't exactly sure which way she should go to get back to the hotel and maybe he could help her.
"Pardon me," she said softly. "Do you speak English?"
"Oui," he said, then laughed and repeated. "Yes." It's been so long since I've spoken it that I'm even thinking in French."
"You're not French," she asked.
"No, I'm German, but I've lived here for the past twelve years and I feel very French."
"I can see how that could happen," she continued. "Paris is certainly a beautiful city."
"Ah Yes, Paris, the city for lovers. Are you in love?" he said.
"I was," she answered, hoping that she didn't sound too cynical, but she didn't want to have to explain her situation to anyone, even a stranger whom she would never see again.
"That's too bad ... that it's over, I mean. Are you very lonely?"
He seemed so sympathetic, so much like her father that she decided that it would be very boring for him, and it was embarrassing for her anyway.
"I guess that I am lonely in a way, but I'm sure that it will pass. Doesn't it always?"
"It always takes time for those things to pass, but a woman as young and as beautiful a's you should find yourself a new lover very quickly.
She smiled at him and nodded, "I suppose you're right, but at the present things look rather bleak."
"Well, maybe we can cure that. If you have no objection, I'd be happy to buy you a drink at a cantina that is just around the corner. The music is lively, full of spirit and we could talk there. It would be more comfortable than this bench."
She hesitated for just a minute then told him that she would love to join him for a drink. After all, what did she have to lose, nothing could get much worse and maybe it would take her mind off of her husband for a few more hours. The cantina was on the ground floor of a dingy looking resident hotel, but the place itself lent a certain kind of charm. He directed her to a table in the back of the room and asked her if it would be all right if he ordered for her.
"There is a typically French drink that I think you'll like. May I?"
"Certainly, I'll try it anyway," she said.
A fat, sloppy waiter came over to their table and took their order.
"Deux Pernod," the man said and the waiter left to get the drinks.
"What's Pernod," she asked, wondering whether it was a wine, liquor or what.
"It tastes like licorice," he said, "and it's quite refreshing. You can drink it with water if you like, but actually it's better straight."
"I'll try it straight then," she said.
"How long have you been in Paris," he asked her. "Is this your first time in Europe, you seem so typically American."
"I didn't know that it showed that much," she laughed. "Yes, it's my first time."
"You'll find the attitudes much different over here," he continued. "But I guess you'll have time to find that out."
"What do you mean," she asked, since his statement had been so ambiguous.
"For one thing, our attitude about love and marriage."
"Oh really, what's so different?"
"Well, in America you believe in total monoga my, one wife, one husband, no outside lovers, no occasional affairs after marriage, isn't that so?"
"Yes, I suppose it is, however, a lot of extramarital affairs do go on I imagine."
"Yes, I'm sure they do, but it's always a hidden, secret sort of thing. No one admits that he or she has taken a lover, regardless of their situation at home."
She almost wanted to laugh, but she let him continue.
"Here when a man marries he may be in love with his wife and want her to bear his children, but that has nothing to do with his mistress. He can openly declare that he is sleeping with another woman and no one cares, it isn't something that is uncommon or shunned. In fact, some wives even encourage their husbands to take a lover."
"I see," she said simply as she took her first sip of the Pernod. It burned her throat, but it did have a licoricey taste and she like it.
"I don't think that you really do see," he laughed, "but these things take time getting used to."
She nodded and downed the rest of her drink.
"Careful," he warned her, "those things can sneak up on you."
"It's very good, though, I think I'd like another."
He smiled warmly at her and told the waiter to bring another round. He seemed so easy to talk to, so friendly, so understanding, and he reminded her of her father, so she started to tell him what had happened with her marriage, leaving out the more embarrassing details.
"I feel so inadequate," she said, "I feel that somehow it must be my fault that my husband can't make love to me, I just don't understand it."
"You musn't feel like that," he said quietly.
"You're a very beautiful girl and I'm sure that you could make any man happy. Don't t let it get you down, I'm sure you will be able to work something out. I admit that it is a drastic situation, but it's not the end of the world."
"It seems like my world is ending," she said, trying to fight back the tears that had been building all day.
"You see," he continued, "that is just what I was saying about American morals. In your case, if you lived here, you could remain married to your husband and take a lover at the same time and no one would think it terrible or immoral. It's only the American myth that prevents your doing that. My advice to you would be to try to adapt to your new life, but find yourself some other man to sleep with."
"That isn't always so easy to do. I wouldn't like to have to shop around for one, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, I know, but how else do you know that someone can make you happy in bed?"
She nodded in agreement and said that that would be a problem.
The pernods were warming her all over and she felt a close companionship with this stranger. His mannerisms were even like her father's and for the first time in a long time she felt completely at home with someone.
They sat and talked for several hours when he suggested that they go to his place and he would fix her something to eat.
"I rarely eat out these days, besides I'd like to make you my special dish, that is, if you don't have to hurry on back."
It seemed like such an innocent invitation that she told him she would love to join him for something to eat, so they left the cafe and walked a few more blocks to where he lived. It, too, was a resi dent hotel, but not quite as shabby as the one where the cantina was. They walked up the stairs to his room and he unlocked the door. It was a dreary room with just one small table, a kitchenette, a large iron poster bed and a bath, with a bidet in the corner.
"It isn't very elegant I know," he apologized, "but I don't need much for myself really."
She didn't know what she should say, so she remained silent.
"There's another bottle of Pernod on the table, so please help yourself," he told her, and she poured them each a glass of the clear white liquid. She was feeling a little light-headed, but she felt so safe with this man that it didn't matter, he wouldn't try anything with her, of that she was certain.
"You know," she laughed, "I don't even know your name, mine's Jennifer."
"I'm Karl, Jennifer, and it is a pleasure to know you. "
She watched him while he peeled some vegetables, pounded some slices of meat and put them all in one large pot with some wine and turned on the burner for them to cook.
"It takes a while, but this way we can get to know each other better over a few more glasses of pernod."
He sat down on the bed and motioned for her to come join him. "I'm not going to bite you," he said. "Besides, those chairs are terribly hard and uncomfortable."
She picked up her glass and sat down next to him, but her head was spinning so she leaned back against the pillow and let her legs dangle over the end of the bed. He could see where her stockings ended and the slight, soft bulge of her naked thigh began, but she didn't notice his stare, she felt too carefree and light. He reached out and patted her on the knee and told her that maybe she shouldn't drink anymore and wait until after they had eaten.
She reached down and put her glass next to her on the floor, almost losing her balance and falling from the bed at the same time. He reached out and grabbed her, his hands holding her underneath the arms, but his fingers stretching out and rubbing gently against the soft, full mound of her breast. She ignored his obvious caress thinking that he was just trying to help her keep her balance, but as he lifted her back onto the bed, he forced her roughly into the mattress and fell on top of her.
She gasped with surprise, but her arms were pinned and she couldn't fight him off.
"No ... don�t," she choked, too surprised to say anyting else, but he was breathing lustfully into her neck, whispering obscenities at her.
"American whore," he hissed, "all American woman are alike ... they just tease, well, you're not going to get away with it."
"I didn't do anything," she cried. "I didn't!"
"You come up here with me, sit on my bed, let me look up your skirt, and you say you're not teasing me. Well, we'll see."
She started to sob, but he was like an animal, ripping the clothes from her body as though they were made out of paper.
"Bitch ... whore ... cunt," he gasped as he pulled the thin brassiere away and sunk his teeth into the soft, tender flesh of her breasts.
"Aaagggghhhh," she groaned, "Stop!"
It only took him a few minutes before he had her completely naked and trembling on the bed. Her head was too heavy from the drink for her to fight and every time she tried to get up he pushed her back into the mattress while he took off his own clothes.
His body was hairy and squat and at one time had probably been quite muscular, but the years had left him flabby and sagging. The only thing that looked alive was his huge, thick organ which jutted out like a proud peacock away from his hairy paunch, and his testicles which hung loosely between his legs.
He seemed to have ten hands, all tearing at her flesh as though he were trying to devour her, mangle her, tear her apart piece by piece. She tried to claw at him, but he slapped her face harshly and then threw his weight down on her.
"You filthy whore," he gasped, "you're going to get fucked like never before!"
"No ... please ... don't," she implored, but he was not aware of anything that she was saying, he didn't care what she was saying!
The alcohol had made her weak and helpless, but she knew that she had to fight him, yet each time she tried, his fingers just held her tighter, bruising her skin and causing red welts to rise between his imprints. She knew that she was not a match for his brute strength as he twisted her body sadistically, pulling savagely at her breasts and kneading her skin, pinching and prodding. His hands slipped under her hips and she could feel one of his huge, meaty fingers prodding at her puckered, virginal anus.
"Aaagggggghh," she groaned as he forced his finger inside her, twisting it cruelly, stretching the tight, small orifice, sawing in and out in preparation for what was to follow. She tried to turn her hips sideways to avoid this cruel, painful impalement, but his hairy belly was pressed down on her so that she couldn't move. He was stretching her deliberately and each time he made a sudden, sharp movement with his finger she cried out from the pain.
She couldn't stand the pressure of his finger in side her tight, elastic rectum, but he kept shoving at her until his entire finger was buried inside her anal orifice.
Reluctantly he withdrew his finger from her for just a moment and yanked her body sideways on the bed until she lay prostrate, flat on her stomach. She clutched at the pillow, digging her fingers into the soft down and tried to raise herself, but she was still too dizzy and she flopped back down onto the mattress. He laughed sadistically at her futile efforts, and reached underneath her once again. He pulled back on her thighs and ordered her to kneel.
"On your knees, you teasing bitch," he shouted at her, pulling her roughly towards him, his one hand securely locked between her legs, and he began to play with her aching clitoris and vaginal lips.
"I can't," she whispered helplessly. "I'm too dizzy."
"I said KNEEL," he repeated, this time pulling back on her thighs and lifting her buttocks off the mattress. She had never felt so subjugated to someone's will, so defenseless and weak.
He was on his knees in back of her, pulling and pushing her as though she were a lifeless ragdoll, a toy that he used for his own desires and amusement.
Her head was still buried in the pillow but her knees were now bucked underneath her, her but tocks swaying drunkenly back and forth in front of him.
He ran his hands over the smooth, rounded globes of her buttock cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they could possibly go and only then did she realize what he had in mind for her.
"No ... no ... " she groaned. "Please ... no!"
"Why not," he chuckled, "you're just a whore and I'm sure you've done this many times." His fingers ran up the crease between her buttock cheeks and he inserted one finger roughly, deep into her vagina, for the lubricating fluid of her channel. His finger worked furiously until he could feel her juices begin to flow, then ran his finger back and forth over her anus, wetting the tiny, puckered hole.
She felt his hands close on the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, as his huge, solid prick jerked up at her rectal opening.
"Don't ... it won't fit," she begged him, trying to fall away from his strong grip on her thighs.
"I'll make it fit, baby," he laughed, "I'll make it fit!"
She could feel the rubbery head of his massive cock pry at her tight, dry orifice and he pulled her cheeks apart roughly and pushed his hips into her backside with all his might.
"Oooooohhhbh, aaagggggggbbhhbh, nnnooooooo," she screamed, and she bit her lips to try to ease the pain as she felt the first inch of his monstrous penis slip into her virginal opening.
"That's a baby," he crooned thickly. "Back up to your daddy."
She tried to let her knees slip out from under her, but it was no use, he was holding her up as he shoved deeper and deeper into her tight, resisting rectum.
She conjoint t escape from him, his hips thrust harder and more cruelly into her and his hands held her thighs back against him.
She thought that she would pass out from the excruciating pain, pain like she had never felt in her life. His prick surged into her, solid and steady until he had buried his long, thick shaft up to the very hilt of her anus and he couldn't shove any further. Once he was fully inside her she hoped that the pain would subside, that she would get accustomed to his massive intrusion, but he began, to saw in and out of her, pulling the skin of her anus cruelly with each stroke. Her rectum seemed reluctant to release him and the elastic hole seemed to hold him securely in place while he tortured her more and more.
She could feel his testicles bang against the back of her thighs with each thrust, heavy and full.
"Please ... no more ... Stop," she choked out through her tears of pain and humiliation, but he ignored her and went on sodomizing her, a cruel grin frozen on his lips.
"Whore ... whore," he spat, digging his fingers more harshly into the smooth, tender skin of hex inner thighs. He was gasping and groaning with sadistic delight as he continued to tear into her, inflicting unbearable pain. He moved in and out of her resistant, tight passage, his penis straining as though it were going to burst like a balloon any minute.
"Oh baby," he moaned, his balls and thick hard penis throbbing with his impending climax with each new thrust.
She felt like his slave, his concubine, unable to protest anything that he demanded of her, but her body ached so. He moved in and out of her in long, hard, painful strokes, each time drawing his cruel tool out to the very tip of the blood-red head then shoving it back inside her harshly. He knew that he would cum at any second, but he wanted to punish her longer, degrade her as he would any whore. He wanted to skewer her like a pig on a spit, split her wide open, make her plead for mercy, but his prick was heavy with his sperm and he began to jerk his hot liquid into her in long, wet spurts, lubricating her rectum with his seed.
"Ooooohhhhh, my God," he groaned as he could feel his release surging deeply into her. His fingers clung to her, pulling her back and forth on his pulsing, jerking cock and he murmured crude, inaudible obscenities as he ground out the last of his climax.
When he was spent he held her for a little longer, hesitant to pull his satisfied cock from its warm, wet enclosure, but he was tired, so he let her fall back onto the bed, his prick sliding wetly from her backside.
She rolled over on her side and raised her knees to her chest, trying to recover from the terrible pain that was still torturing her buttocks and she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Get up, you whore, and get out of here. You make me sick!" he ordered her, slapping her hips sharply.
She struggled to bring her legs to the side of the bed and staggeringly made her way to the table and balanced herself for a moment.
She searched for what clothing she could find on the floor and on the bed and dressed as quickly and neatly as she could and left his room. She found the stairs and slowly edged her way, step by step, into the lobby and onto the street. She hailed a taxi and gave him the address of the hotel. She powdered her nose and tried to fix her make-up; still in a daze from the horrible nightmare she had just lived through. She hoped that her husband would not be in the room when she arrived so that she could take a long, hot bath and try to ease hey pain, and rid herself of the dirty, humiliated feeling that she had.
In a few minutes.the cab pulled up in front of her hotel and she got out and went to the room. She found a note that Grant would meet her later in the restaurant and after looking at the clock she still had an hour to get ready, so she tearfully drew her bath and tired to relax.
Chapter 6
She didn't say anything to Grant about what had happened, there was no reason to, and she was certain that he wouldn't have cared anyway. It seemed that he was delighted when she suffered, that this excited him rather than disgusted him or angered him.
They ate dinner in relative silence because there was nothing that she could say about what had taken place the night before Dan, and he didn't seem to want to discuss it anyway. She wondered just how far his perversions went and it was almost frightening to be alone with him when she didn't know what to expect.
Finally she said, "I want to go back to Hollywood, Grant. I want to leave right away."
"Nonsense. Give it a few more days and you'll love it here, besides we still have another week before I have to be back."
"I don't mean go back with you, Grant. I want to go back by myself:'
He just looked at her and said, "How badly do you want to continue your career. You leave me and your career will be finished, I'll see to that."
She just stared at him with hate in her eyes, knowing that he was powerful enough in Hollywood to have her black-balled from every studio and that no one would hire her if he told them not to.
"That's not fair, Grant," she continued. "You know that."
"I know," he said, "But I do love you, believe it or not, and I'm not going to let you go."
She thought of her father and how disappointed he would be if she failed in her acting and she couldn't bear to hurt him in any way.
"All right," she condescended, "but let's try to be more understanding from now on. I loved you before we were married, but I can't go on living in fear of you regardless of how I felt."
"I don't want to scare you, my love," he said. "You'll get used to me and my little quirks, it's all part of marriage."
She knew that she was defeated, that he would never change, rifer try to change, and that if she wanted her career she would have to spend the rest of her life just living a lie.
"Besides," he continued, "I want you to meet a special friend of mine tomorrow, she's a woman whom I know you will find fascinating. She used to be a very well known stage actress in Europe and it will be a nice contact for you."
"Very well," she agreed, "I'll try it for one more day."
That night when they went to bed, he just turned his back to her and went to sleep. She was relieved because she wouldn't have to go through the humiliation with the dildo again, but it was so frustrating to sleep next to her new husband and not have a normal, healthy relationship. She fell asleep thinking about what the man had told her that afternoon about taking a lover and she knew that eventually she would have to do something.
The next morning they got up early, dressed, had a leisurely breakfast and rented a car. They were driving to a country villa just outside of Paris to visit a Madame La Fleur, the friend of Grant's.
The car wound through a tree-lined drive that seemed to continue for miles before she could finally see the huge villa just up ahead. There were many smaller houses on the estate and what looked like a kennel and a stable to the right of the main house. A guard stopped them at the gate to the house and called in to let Madame La Fleur who was calling, then waved them through.
By the time they pulled in front of the main house, an older woman, about forty-five or fifty was standing on the porch dressed in a hostess gown that was so elegant 'Jennifer wasn't sure whether it was a fancy dressing gown or she was ready for a formal ball. Her hair was neatly combed back in and tied with a ribbon, and long hoop earrings dangled almost to her shoulders.
"Daaaarling," she crooned when Grant got out of the car and gave her a long, affectionate kiss and hug, nearly forgetting that Jennifer was still waiting in the car.
"Oh," he said, . "I've brought you my new bride and my newest discovery." He winked at the woman and then helped Jennifer from the car.
"Jennifer, this is Madame La Fleur whom I've told you about."
"Nice to meet you," she said quietly.
"Well, well, Grant," the woman said, "she certainly is the loveliest thing I've seen in ages. How did you ever manage that?" She laughed heartily and took Jennifer by the hands and held them for just a moment.
Together they walked into the huge study and Madame La Fleur rang for the maid to bring them some coffee and brandy: The room was huge and overflowed with antique furniture, some of it so fragile looking that she was almost afraid to touch anything or sit down. She had never seen such a collection of odds and ends in her life.
"A lot of these pieces were once props in my plays," she explained to Jennifer.
"I know that they don't all fit together, but they do have sentimental value for me."
"It's charming, really," Jennifer :aid, slightly embarrassed that she should have caught her look of confusion.
"You must show her the rest of the house after we finish our coffee, Grace," Grant said, calling her by her first name.
She looked at him puzzled, then nodded smiling as though something had just connected with what he had said.
"Jennifer loves dogs and horses, so you must show her the kennels," he said laughing harshly.
"Oh ... oh, I see," she said. "It would be my pleasure. Grant, you old dog, you haven't changed a bit!"
Jennifer knew that they were sharing some kind of a private joke, but she wasn't exactly sure what it was, and it made her nervous, because she never knew what to expect anymore.
She knotted her hands restlessly in her lap, wishing that she had never consented to come out here with him.
She drank her coffee and brandy as slowly as she could, hoping that they would forget about showing her the rest of the house, but a few minutes later Madame La Fleur got up and told them that if they were ready she would give them the grand tour.
Hesitantly, she put down her cup and followed the woman and her husband down a long corridor lined with old pictures and posters that must have been from her plays also, until they reached a steep set of stairs and they began to climb. The stairs led to the back part of the house that looked as though it had never been finished. The ceilings were high and darkly stained and the only light was afforded by weak, flickering gas candles that lined the hallway.
Madame La Fleur opened a heavy oak door and motioned for them to go inside. The room was empty except for several iron cages which covered one entire wall. Jennifer thought that it was strange to find this woman kept her dogs inside her house, especially with all the beautiful grounds and facilities on the estate. The dogs barked when they came in and strained at their leases which kept them chained even inside their cages.
"These are my prizes," Madame La Fleur said proudly, "especially this one." She pointed to a huge dog that looked as though it were part Shepherd and part Mastoid. It was the biggest, ugliest dog she had ever seen, and growled like it had to be the fiercest.
Jennifer shrank back and grabbed onto Grant's arm tightly.
"Don't be afraid, my dear," he said, "they really are very friendly, you'll see!" Madame La Fleur and Grant both laughed with a slight tinge of amusement.
Madame La Fleur walked to the other end of the room and pushed a button which released a sliding door and Jennifer gasped when she saw what the wall had been hiding.
The room was full of all kinds of instruments that looked as though they were used for an oldfashioned torture chamber. In the middle of the room was a huge square mattress, supported only by four iron rods to which leather straps and chains were attached. Various size whips and thongs hung from the ceiling, as well as a graduated set of dildos!
"Oh no," she screamed, "I want to get out of here," pulling at Grant's arm and urging him back toward the other door.
"Relax, my pet," he said, "I want you to get better acquainted with this place, especially that one big friend out there."
Madame La Fleur moved to the cage where the huge dog was confined and opened the door. The dog leaped out, tugging at the steel chain around its neck and pulled the woman toward Jennifer. Jennifer started to back up, but she had no place to go except into the room behind the sliding door. Grant grabbed her roughly and pushed her towards the mattress in the middle of the room.
"We didn't make love last night so that you would be ready for your little surprise today," he chuckled meanly, pushing her backwards onto the spongy mat.
"No ... no ... please," she screamed, but his hands were already tearing her clothes from her body in violent, ripping frenzy, not caring whether or not he ruined what she had on.
"Please Grant," she implored, "Not this ... I can't!"
She looked at Madame La Fleur hoping that she would show some sympathy, but her face was set like stone except for a slight smirk.
"You'll like my little pet," she laughed, "he's quite a lover!"
Her husband had already stripped the clothes from her body regardless of how she struggled against him. She was no match for his strength or his lust and she tried to hide her nakedness with her hands, but he grabbed her wrists as he pushed her back onto the mattress and anchored them securely with two of the bands at the top of the posts. She kicked her legs wildly, trying to keep him from chaining down her ankles also, but Mad ame La Fleur came closer with the dog who was now standing just by her head growlin and every once in awhile slavering his long tongue over her face. She tried to turn away from him, but it was useless.
Her husband grabbed one ankle then the other and fastened them to the other two posts at the foot of the mattress, and there she lay, manacles and helpless, at the mercy of these two deranged people and the huge dog. She strained her muscles, but the only part of her that could move upward were her hips and shoulders, everything else was being held tight by her bonds.
Madame La Fleur moved to the foot of the mattress and let the huge dog sniff along her long, slender calves and thighs. The dog's nose was cold against her skin and she tried to cringe away from his curious sniffing, but she couldn't turn one way or the other.
"He has the scent already," Grant laughed, looking at the older woman. "He must have been locked up for some time."
"He has," Madame La Fleur said, "he should be really ready to go today!"
"God no," Jennifer screamed, "Please God no!"
"Scream all you like, my dear," the woman finally said, "the whole room is soundproof, so it doesn't matter. No one can hear you but us !"
Jennifer closed her eyes, trying to shut out the image of their -faces arid the ugliness of the monstrous dog that was now licking and sniffing the inside of her thighs, searching for his ultimate goal. She bucked her hips, trying to get away from the probing nose until her stomach muscles ached from the strain, then fell back onto the mattress realizing that it was hopeless.
"Slowly Prince," the woman told the dog. "We don't want to rush things too fast."
The dog raised his head for a moment to look at his mistress, then began to move his tongue down towards her ankles once again.
"It must have taken you years to train Prince," Grant said, "but he is a marvelous creature."
"Yes, isn't he," she agreed, "he's one I bred specially and have taken a ht of time with him personally."
Jennifer raised her head slightly to see where the dog was now, for she could no longer feel the coldness of his nose or his drooling tongue on her body. Her neck muscles strained as she looked around and saw her husband, Madame La Fleur and the dog all standing at the end of the mattress, staring at her, enjoying the look of horror and fear that tortured her beautiful face. The woman was bending down to unleash the dog so that he would have greater freedom at her shackled body.
"Ooooobhhh," she groaned when she realized that they were actually going to turn this huge monster loose on her, to do what he pleased while they stood there and watched.
Grant was rubbing a rising bulge that was growing in his trousers from the anticipation of what was about to happen. He couldn't wait to see his beautiful, helpless wife at the mercy of this beast. It gave him such pleasure to see her shame and humiliation when he subjected her to these cruel indecent acts.
After the woman had taken the leash off, the dog waited for her command.
"Okay," she commanded him, "Slowly.
The dog moved back towards her naked, straining body, his cold, wet nose, prodding between her knees, sniffing for her scent. His tongue slobbered over her thighs, licking rough up the inside of her trembling legs. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to watch the sadistic gleam in her torturer's eyes, nor see this bulky, hairy animal as he moved between her spread-eagled legs. She could feel his nose between her loins now, poking, probing for her opening, while his thick, rough tongue licked furiously between her thighs, tickling her, torturing her.
Grant rubbed his now fully erect, throbbing prick more furiously, enjoying the horrified look on his wife's face, the gritting of her teeth and the clenching of her fists while the dog took his time, hovering over her quivering body. He could hardly wait until he found the nub of her clitoris and began to lick it, he wanted to see the expression on her face then.
Jennifer's chest was shaking with sobs, bouncing her full, soft, voluptuous breasts up and down, and he walked over to her and pinched the pink, tender nipples until they stood erect.
"Stop it," she screamed at him, "Get away from me!"
"Just trying to help you enjoy it," he laughed, his mouth twisted in an evil grin. "Feel good?"
The dog was sniffing and poking more furiously now and she knew that it wouldn't be long before he would find what he was looking for between her legs and she tried to close her knees, but his head was buried too solidly in her loins.
"Lick her, Prince, lick her," the woman commanded the dog, and the animal raised his broad nose, then let his tongue part her soft, sparse pubic hair and slide noisily along the entire central slit between her legs.
"Ooooohhhh," she groaned, "Nnnooooo."
The dog's tongue had touched her tiny, fleshy clitoris and with each lap she could feel it growing into an involuntary erectness. Grant's hands began to fondle her breasts once again and despite her feeling of revulsion, she could feel a tingling growing in her body.
I can't let myself feel anything, she vowed to herself, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out; but the dog's tongue was moving faster and faster over the soft, sensitive nob, driving her out of her mind!
She could feel her own juices begin to build inside her no matter how hard she tried to fight her reactions, the lewd licking tongue was exciting her!
"That's a boy," Madame La Fleur said, "Lick her harder."
The dog's cold nose was pushed hard against her clitoris and his tongue was slavering up and down the small, sensitive slit of her vagina, separating her vaginal lips with each lap.
Jennifer tried to relax her body, close her mind to what was happening, but she couldn't deny that she was feeling something!
Grant watched the dog's tongue as it explored every crevice and fold between her legs and he hoped that he himself could last until the dog finally mounted her and locked into her. He pressed his thighs close together in an effort to stay his own desires, his own orgasm, and clenched his fists.
Jennifer was rolling her head back and forth on the mattress in a silent protest to what was happening, a pained look of humiliation on her face.
She could feel the dog's hot breath on her thighs, his long, wet tongue searching and scrap ing every part of her into a furnace of desire, but her mind still could not accept it.
She wanted to stop him before it was too late, but each time she tried to free herself, her bonds just became tighter, so she lay there immobile, clenching her fists, trying to think of some way she could keep herself from reacting to this debasing animal. The dog concentrated once again on the bud of her clitoris and no matter what she tried, it was becoming hard!
"Noooooo," she gapsed finally, "Dear God, nooooo."
"Feeling better," Grant hissed, enjoying every minute of her agony.
The tenseness and pain that were contracted in her belly were slowly beginning to dwindle with his continued manipulation of her tiny, red knob and her thighs were trembling with excitement. She took a deep breath as his tongue flicked between her vaginal lips and slipped slightly inside her moist, open channel. She could not move away from the dog's tireless licking and as his tongue pushed further and further between her legs she knew that she would be unable to stop herself from cummingl Her body had taken complete control of her mind and there was nothing she could do. She wished that they would take the dog away before she lost the very last bit of control she was clinging to, but both Madame La Fleur and hex husband were delighting in watching her suffer at the dog's mercy.
"It feels good, doesn't it," Grant whispered to her, "You like it, don't you !"
How could he be so cruel, she thought, how could he do this to me, this final and horrible humiliation!
He leaned over her prostrate, shackled body and closed his mouth over her ripe breasts, sucking first one nipple then the other, running his tongue back and forth on them until they were fully erect, and nibbling at them, knowing that she couldn't help herself any longer.
She was breathing in little, choked gasps now, trying to fight her sensual reaction with each strained breath, and he knew that she was struggling against her own emotions.
"Don't fight it, baby," he grunted, "You know you like it."
She was like a bitch in heat, he thought, but she can't accept it with all her proper upbringing, it's tearing her apart, and he laughed cruelly at his own thoughts.
The dog had gotten the scent of her juices that were now flowing freely, wracking her body with desire and he raised his head, sniffed and growled.
"He's getting impatient," Madame La Fleur said. "He wants to sample her!"
The dog's huge cock was hanging between his hind legs, ready to take her. It's size was monumental. He, would tear into her hot little cunt, rip her apart and not stop until he had finished. He would screw her until she was begging for them to pull the dog off of her, cutting her, tearing her and it served her right, it served any beautiful woman right.
He knew that once the woman gave the signal, the dog would mount her and hold her with his paws and drive his nine inch thick spike so deep into her that she would think it was in her throat. He wouldn't ease it in gently, but ram it in to its full length with his first thrust and keep it there, just hammering at the base of her belly.
"Let him at her," Grant told Madame La Fleur, "I don't think I can wait much longer!"
They both laughed as Jennifer screamed, and she gave Prince the order to mount her.
"Fuck her, Prince ... fuck her good," she commanded, and in a split second the dog had moved up on her body and his giant rod was poised and throbbing menacingly just over her vagina.
She tried to turn her hips away from his monstrous organ, but the dog rammed up into her like a cannon that was about to fire.
"Aaaaaagggggghhhhhh," she screamed, feeling the walls of her vagina being split open and torn.
She could only think of the throbbing between her legs and she felt the first contractions of her or gasm begin to start, jerking wildly around the savage thickness of the dog's prick. Her eyes were closed tightly and she tried to pretend that it was someone else making love to her ... a man, not a filthy, slobbering animal. The only thing that mattered in her mind now was that she could complete her own climax and she ground her hips back and forth in complete abandonment, ignoring the searing pain that was in her loins and growing through her entire body.
When she felt the last of her contractions she realized then that the beast was still hammering away inside her, cutting her, ripping her apart with his giant spearhead cock.
"No ... Noooo," she screamed, "Pull him off ... Please ... I'll do anything," but her pleas were met with an icy silence.
Each time he thrust into her she thought that she would go out of her mind, but she didn't, she couldn't even lose consciousness. In some fantastic way she knew she had never felt like this before, and if she could accept the fact in her mind that it was an animal who was making her feel like this, then she would be all right.
She knew that this dog would bring her to a second climax if they didn't pull him off of her, and maybe even a third. Her body was being buffeted by this great creature, but she was now beginning to accept her own animal reaction, and it didn't seem quite so bad.
Grant was watching the look of complete degradation and pain that tortured her face and he grinned, satisfied that he had completely debased her in her own eyes.
The dog was still thrusting into her relentlessly and it didn't look as if he would ever stop. His stamina was incredible as he pounded into her weakened and battered body, shattering her vagina with each new impalement.
"I'm going to cum ...," she gasped helplessly, "I'm Gumming ... I'm cumming!"
Her body was trembling frantically, her knees and thighs quivering with her orgasm, then she fell limply back into the mattress. She was completely exhausted, beaten, and her body was almost lifeless, her eyelids barely fluttering as the dog continued his long strokes inside her.
Madame La Fleur and Grant watched as the dog finally began to slow and they knew that his final degradation was imminent, he was about to spill his hot, canine sperm into her torn, aching belly, filling her, shaming her. Saliva drooled from the dog's mouth and ran over her stilled body and onto the mattress. He jerked forward one last time, his head hanging down and panting as he waited for his massive rod to go back to it's normal size so that he could pull out of her.
Grant was fumbling with the fly on his trousers, trying to free his own hard, throbbing rod before it would be too late, and he held it gingerly in his hand. The dog was still buried in her wet, throbbing cunt, but he wanted something else, he wanted to feel his prick in her mouth, sucking him.
He slapped the side of her face in an effort to bring her back to consciousness, and her eyes fluttered weakly.
"You're not done yet," he growled at her. "Open that little mouth of yours."
She closed her eyes again and rolled her head from side to side, refusing to open it.
He slapped more harshly this time and she looked up at him, hate glaring from her eyes.
"You better open up if you know what's good for you," he threatened, and he pushed two fingers between her teeth and pried open her clenched jaw.
"Nooooo," she moaned, hardly able to move at all. "I can't."
"You can and you will," he ordered her, "or I'll let Prince have another turn with you. You have your choice, is it me or the dog!"
Her voice was weak and soft as she murmured, "You."
There was no more fight left in her, she couldn't resist anything anymore, she was too shamed already.
"That's my darling wife," he grinned, looking over at Madame La Fleur who was chaining the dog up again and leading him back to his cage.
"Untie me, please," she begged him, "Please untie me:"
"Are you gong to be gooA"?" he asked her, "Will you suck me good?"
"Anything," she mouthed, her words barely audible.
He bent down and released her wrists and knelt by her head, letting his now fully erect, jerking prick pulsate just above her head.
"Grab my hips," he ordered her, shoving his knees forward on the mattress and letting his manhood touch the end of her upturned nose.
She rubbed her wrists to bring circulation back into her hands, then reached in back of her and placed her hands on his trousered hips. He moved closer to her mouth and the purplish, veined head of his weapon touched the corner of her mouth.
"Suck me, you lovely," he hissed pushing forward just an inch or so more so that his throbbing cock slipped easily between her lips. Her mouth opened loosely, the muscles in her jaw weak from her clenched teeth.
"Tell me you want me," he co nded. "Tell me!"
She wished that he had asked her that the first night of their marriage, under normal circumstances. She remembered how much she had want ed him then, how much she hadloved him-`then and how she would have loved to have made love to him this way if only the other things hadn't happened. It was almost ludicrous, but she wrapped her lips softly around his erect, pulsing staff and let him move it in and out of her parched mouth.
"Suck me ... suck me hard," his voice becoming cruel once again.
She didn't know where she would get the strength to do what he was demanding, but she didn't want to have the dog on her again, so she grasped his hips a little tighter and began to work her mouth around his hot, bobbing phallus, letting her tongue rub the sensitive underside, feeling the protruding veins as he ground deeper. and deeper into her throat.
"Oooooohh," he groaned, "that's sow nice, so damned nice.'
He adjusted his position so that he could almost shove his entire rod down into her throat and she began to choke as it hit the back of her neck.
His fingers dug into the muscles of her shoulders that were already sore from straining against her bonds and she wished that he would cum and get it over with, but for ,.the first time he seemed insatiable.
She let the head of his' thick organ move back and forth in her mouth as she sucked on it like a child would a lollipop as he panted and gasped above her. A drop of his pungent sperm was already on the tip of his thick, long penis and she could taste the salt and smell the pungent, sweet odor of his secreting semen.
Why can't he do this inside of me, she thought to herself, her body tortured, but her mind slowly beginning to function again. Why can't he fuck me!
She was almost in a catatonic state as he rocked his hips forward and back over her head.
"Do it to me," he gasped, "suck me harder . . o make me cum!"
His voice had a desperate tone, not like the harshness he had used earlier, he was almost pleading with her to satisfy him!
She could feel the slight drippings from his swollen head and she increased the pressure of her lips around his cannon.
Maybe if she could satisfy him this way, eventually he would be able to make normal love to her someday, and the thought excited her. Her tongue raced furiously up and down his hard, swollen staff, and she mustered all of her remaining strength in the hope that she could make him cum, make him want her!
He bent his knees slightly and she could feel th-material of his slacks against her soft, pink cheeks; and she could hear his breathing increasing almost to desperate gasps.
More of his sperm oozed from the tip of his jerking staff and she knew that he was about to cum ... cum in her mouth. She sucked as hard as she could, nibbling gently along his thick rod and tickling it with her tongue.
He's going to enjoy this if it's the last thing I do, she vowed, and she pulled frantically at his hips so that the end of his penis touched the back of her throat.
"OOOOOOHHHHHH," he moaned, as he could feel his loins tremble and the first stream of his semen shoot into her waiting throat.
She held him hard against her mouth as he jerked out his frenzied orgasm, his knees pressed soundly against the side of her head and she swallowed his spurting, lengthy orgasm. The hot, sticky semen flooded her mouth and trickled down her throat, warming her, drenching her, but it didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered anymore.
Slowly his convulsions stopped and his once erect phallus slipped wetly from between her lips, She lay there still clinging to the material of his trousers gasping for her own labored breath.
His prick hung limply over her soft, beautiful face and he fell back, his hips resting on his ankles.
"You are soooo good, baby," he crooned, touching- her face gently, "Soooo good!"
She closed her eyes, hoping that somehow this would make a difference, that he could become a normal lover and love her the way she had loved him in the beginning, and she tried to forget the horrible feeling of filth and degradation she had experienced when the dog had made love to her.
She wondered if she could ever feel normal again, clean again, but right now all she wanted was to go home and never come back to this place again.
Chapter 7
Neither one of them mentioned their visit to Madame Le Fleur's villa the following day and he acted as nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She had tried to arouse him that morning; she had fondled him, kissed him, kissed his loins, his manhood, but he was passive and looked at her astounded.
"What are you trying to prove?" he had asked harshly, and pushed her aside as though she were annoying him; so with tears streaming down her face she had gotten out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She couldn't believe that the only way he could become excited was to see her suffer, but it was a reality that she would have to face if she wanted to continue to be his wife or else she would have to leave. If she left, she knew that it would be the end of her career, but to live with him would be the end of her life. She couldn't go on letting him humiliate her, use her as his own toy to his own advantage without caring whether she lived or died. It was too much for her to take!
She dressed quickly and packed a small suitcase and started for the door of their suite.
"Where do you think you're going?" he shouted after her.
"I'm leaving you," she said as calmly as she could, "for good!"
He laughed and said, "You'll be back if you still want to have your career!"
The words stung her worse than any physical violence could have, but she still had some pride left and she knew that if she stayed now he would have won and that couldn't happen. She wouldn't become an animal for anyone, not even her own husband, whom she had loved so much.
"I don't care," she said softly, "nothing is worth what I have to pay to stay with you."
She opened the door to the hall and he called to her, "Let me know where to ship the rest of your things, or you can pick them up at the studio when you get back, if you do come back."
He was laughing cruelly, harshly, and it maddened her to know that even now he was still so damned sure of himself. It almost made her leaving easier, but it still hurt.
She went to the airline counter in the lobby and asked the man at the desk when she could catch the first plane out of Paris.
"Where to," he asked.
"Anywhere," she said, looking at the carpet, "I just want to get away from here!"
"Well, there's a plane to Nice in about two hours that you should be able to catch if you hurry."
"That will be just fine," she told him, "I'll get a cab and please call and make my reservation, my name is Jennifer Rhodes."
"Certainly, Miss Rhodes," he said, "and have a pleasant trip. I'm sorry you couldn't stay longer in Paris. "
So am I, she mused, but picked up her bag and asked the doorman to call her a taxi.
Her mind was so confused about what had happened during the past three days that it was difficult for her to concentrate on what she was going to do once she arrived in Nice. She had never been in Europe before and she was certain that she didn't know anyone in Nice, but she would have to manage somehow. She could call the Consulate there and perhaps they could tell her what her best hotels were, where she should eat and how she should go about getting back to the United States, but in the meantime, she needed a rest, a few days by herself and time to think about what she would do when she did return. She was certain that Grant wouldn't waste any time calling the studios and telling them that she had left Paris and that if she did not come back right away that no one was to hire her without consulting him first.
She wondered how a man who had seemed so gentle, so much in love could be so cruel, such a monster, but he was, and she would have to face it.
She boarded the plane at Orly and chose a seat next to a window near the front of the plane. She hoped that no one would take the seat next to her so she put her bag on it and pretended that she was asleep even before the plane was in flight.
They were only on the ground for about fifteen minutes before she heard the engines start up and the plane begin to move along the long runway and the wheels leave the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was sure that they were airborne and she was on her way.
The stewardess brought her some coffee and pastry and asked if she would like some magazines. She said yes, but then realizing that they would all be written in French, she reclined her seat and fell asleep. She didn't know how long a flight it was to Nice, but it didn't matter, she was so glad to be getting away, away from her husband, and maybe even away from her own conscience.
It seemed to be hours later when the stewardess gently tapped her on the shoulder and told her to fasten her seat belt that they would be landing in Nice in a very few minutes. She looked out the window and saw the clearest blue water she had ever seen. The buildings looked so quaint, so provincial, and it looked like an ideal place for her to have some peace of mind. The sandy beaches stretched for miles and the weather was sunny, it looked like a perfect retreat.
It took her about an hour to get out of the airport, check a directory and make arrangements for a place to stay. She had found a Traveller's Aide in the lobby and they were very helpful in recommending her accommodations, so with this out of the way, she hailed a taxi and told him where she wanted to go. The sun and fresh air livened her spirits considerably and she forgot temporarily what she had done, what had happened to her and why she was leaving her new husband on their honeymoon. All that was behind her now and she would start living again right here and now. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had done the right thing and hoping that she could still salvage her career regardless of Grant's threats and promises.
The cab ride wasn't long and shortly she was at her destination. The hotel was small, but inexpensive and certainly adequate for her own particular needs, at least for the time being.
The people were charming and friendly, not the same type she had found in Paris at all. They seemed to be a much warmer people, more under standing and that was just what she needed. She didn't think that she could take another few days like her last ones had been, but then that just couldn't happen! She unpacked her bag and hung up the few things that she had brought with her and decided to take a nap. The sun had warmed the room and she quickly fell into a sound, peaceful sleep. It wasn't until late that evening that she awoke, took a shower and went to a nearby cafe for some dinner. She chose a small table in the corner and ordered her meal. She knew that several of the young men in the restaurant were looking at her, but she ignored their obvious stares and ate her meal quickly, drank two glasses of wine and walked back to the hotel. There would be time enough to make friends and have company if she wanted it, but right now she wanted to be alone, completely alone.
Even though she had slept in the afternoon it didn't take her long to doze off again. The past three days had been hectic and her sleep had been fitful, so she needed her rest badly.
In the morning she heard the bell captain knock at her door and ask if she would prefer to have breakfast in her room. She told him that she would, and asked him if it were possible to get a local newspaper that was written in English. He told her that it wasn't, but she ordered one anyway and decided that she would have to rely on her prep school education in languages to find out what was going on in town. She hadn't been forced to use her French in Paris, but now she would have no choice.
She showered quickly so that she would be clean and fresh when her breakfast tray arrived and she opened the window wide to let the clean, sweetsmelling air fill the room.
She ate a leisurely breakfast and stretched out on her bed. She didn't want to spend the entire day in her room so she asked the waiter whether or not there were any beaches nearby that she could go to. He told her in his broken English that a very popular beach was just a few blocks from the hotel and pointed to the right of the building.
She dressed in her bathing suit and put a short cotton shift on over it so she wouldn't have to find a locker once she was at the beach.
When she walked down the street the men turned around and their eyes followed her. She had heard that the European men were more overt in their admiration and she found it flattering rather than offensive. It was different than the American construction worker who made cat calls and whistled after her when she walked to and from the studio.
The sandy beach seemed to stretch for miles and miles and it was the cleanest, whitest sand that she had ever seen. She put her blanket down not too far from the water's edge and laid down, using the newspaper to shelter her face. She couldn't afford to get too much sun the first day or she would be badly burned. She looked around at the other people on the blankets nearby. Everyone seemed to be in couples, either talking, laughing or casually making love. What a romantic spot, she thought to herself.
She had been there about an hour when she heard a man's voice say,
"You're not really reading that paper, are you?"
She looked up and saw a deeply tanned Latin looking man smiling down at her.
"No," she said softly, "would you like to borrow it?"
He laughed at her, his white teeth gleaming, accentuating the strong lines of his face.
"No, I'd like to borrow you," he answered her jokingly.
"Your English is very good," she said, amazed because he didn't look English or American.
"I studied there for many years," he said, "but I'd be happy to translate the newspaper for you. You looked as though you were having a problem."
"I was," she admitted, even though she knew that he knew she hadn't been reading it when he approached her.
"I was trying to find out what is going on in this E lovely town," she told him. "It's my first day here and I'd like to know where I should go, what I should see, the usual tourist things."
"You're far too lovely to be a tourist," he grinned at her, "but let me help anyway."
He turned the paper to the social section and she glanced over his shoulder as he ran his finger over the columns looking for something that might be of interest to her, when her eyes caught a name, her father's!
"What . .. . what does that say," she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
"What does what say," he asked her.
"That ... about Carter Rhodes."
"Oh, do you know him?"
"Sort of," she lied, not wanting him to know who she was, "What does it say?"
"You seem awfully anxious to know for his being just an acquaintance," he teased, "but I'll tell you anyway."
"Please," she urged him.
"It seems that there is to be a party tomorrow night at an estate outside of town, a party given by a Marquessa La Salle, a costume ball. She's a high society woman and it's for some charity or another. Okay?"
"Is it by invitation only," she inquired, "or can I subscribe to the charity?"
He looked her directly in the eye, and said, "This is rather important to you, isn't it?"
"Quite," she answered him, her heart pounding so hard that she was certain that he could hear ii. "I've just got to go."
"Well, the party is by invitation only, but I'll tell you what I'll do."
"What's that?" she said warily.
"Don't look so scared, I'm harmless, really. I just like to help beautiful women in distress!"
"I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I do seem to be a bit of a fool, but it' means so much to me, but I can't explain."
"It just so happens that I belong to the social elite of this fair city, and I have an invitation to the party. I would be happy to get you through the gate tomorrow night on one condition." His voice was light and cheerful, but she could detect a little bitterness when he referred to the social elite.
"What's the condition," she asked, afraid that she would have to pass the opportunity, but not knowing how she, could do it.
"Just this," he continued, "have dinner with me tonight, nothing else, I promise."
He seemed so sincere and he had been so help ful that she didn't see how she could refuse him, especially if she wanted to get to that party the next night.
"I'd love to have dinner with you," she told him, "but I must get to bed early, I'm still tired from my trip." She was lying to him, but she didn't want another involvement, not at this point.
"It would really be my pleasure," he said, "I meet so few women as beautiful as you!"
She thanked him and told him her name was Jennifer Roberts, using Grant's last name instead of her own and told him that she was in a hotel about three blocks from where they were now.
"I'm Paulo," he said, "I know the hotel and I'll pick you up about eight."
"That will be fine," she smiled, and he excused himself, waving to her as he walked further on down the beach.
She wanted to get up, dance, laugh, throw her hands in the air. She had never expected to find her father still here in Nice and now she would be able to see him. She wanted to be near her father so much, hear his laugh, be able to reach out and touch him, gain from his strength, and now she could do it, and it would be so easy. She was certain that Paulo would get her into the party, he had promised her he would and from then on she knew she would be able to find her father even though everyone would be in costume.
She quickly picked her things up from the beach and ran back to the hotel. She would have to think of something that she would wear for a costume, something so her father would not be able to recognize her. She couldn't let him know that she was there or he would ask what had happened to her career, her marriage, and she couldn't bear to tell him, not just yet.
She rummaged through her luggage and found nothing that would suffice, so she asked the manager of the hotel to recommend a good seamstress or tailor who could make her a costume in one day.
The manager told her that his wife was an excellent seamstress and she would be happy to help her make a costume that would be ready for the following day. She thanked him and went back to her room and waited to hear from his wife. She didn't know exactly what she wanted, but it had to disguise her thoroughly.
The costume had to be as simple as possible so that it wouldn't take much time to put together, so she decided that she would go as a ballerina. She could wear some sheer tights that she had with her and her bathing suit would do for a base for the costume. All she would need would be some lace and a few ruffles to fill in and she could manage. She could have the seamstress make her a mask from some lace also, but it had to be large enough to cover most of her face.
The manager's wife was knocking on her door in about a half an hour and within another fifteen minutes she explained what she wanted done and the woman took her bathing suit, told her that she would buy the lace and trim and put it together for her.
Jennifer thanked her, tipped her generously for her trouble and held her breath with the excitement until she had left and she was alone in her room once again. She couldn't believe that fate had been so kind to her, that she would be near her father again. She needed him now more than she had ever needed him in her whole life.
She planned in her own mind what she would do when she was near him, how she would act. It would be the most difficult thing in the world for her not to run up to him, throw her arms around him and cry, "Daddy, I need you," but she knew that she wouldn't be able to do that, she couldn't do that( It would have to be enough just being near him and knowing that he was there.
She couldn't think about anything else the rest of the day, even when she knew that she would have to be ready to have dinner with Paulo at eight. She couldn't be late for that or he might think that she didn't care and not take her to the party next night, so about six o'clock she started to get ready.
They went to a quiet little restaurant with candles on every table, violins, and the richest food she had ever eaten. Paulo was a perfect gentleman and seemed to be pleased with the fact alone that she had joined him for dinner. He was most atten- tive without being forward and for the first time in a long time she could relax. They lingered over their meal and bottle of wine, listening to the violins and enjoying each other's company. He told her that his parents were very wealthy and that he had been educated in the United States, but had returned to Nice to live because he enjoyed the life of leisure in comparison to the rat race he would have had in America. He was still invited to the "right" parties because of his parents, but that no one really approved of his laziness, but he just wasn't ready to settle down as yet.
She told him that she could sincerely sympathize with him, that she wished that she could do the same thing, but unfortunately her parents weren't wealthy. She hoped that he wouldn't notice that she was wearing an original dress and that her jewelry was real, but if he did, he accepted her story.
He walked her slowly back to her hotel, kissed her gently on the cheek and told her that he would. see her the next night in time to take her to the party. She knew that he would be there, so she slept peacefully, dreaming of what would happen the very next day.
She thought that the following must have one hundred hours for the time dragged by so slowly before it was finally time for Paulo to pick her up, She was ready almost an hour ahead of time be cause she didn't want to be one second late for the party, that would mean one second less with her father.
They drove for about a half an hour before they reached the mansion where the party was being held.
Many of the guests were already there, drinking, talking and dancing, and it was difficult to tell the men from the women with all the elaborate costumes. Paulo had told her that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen when he picked her up. Her costume was simple, but it accentuated the fine curves of her body, her long, slender legs, the full curve of her soft, rounded breasts and the narrowness of her waist. Her hair was piled on top of her head and shone like satin, smooth and silky, catching the flickering of the lights in each strand. Her mask hid the beauty of her eyes, but could not hide their special sparkle, that inner glow, and her cheeks were flushed like a girl in love.
There must have been fifty to one hundred people crowded into one large room of the mansion and she wondered how she would ever be able to find her father. She went directly to the bar, ordered a drink and began to circulate among the guests, listening and watching, hoping to hear his voice or notice a familiar mannerism of his. She had been there almost an hour and was beginning to lose hope when she heard his familiar laugh coming from a group of people standing in one corner of the room. Little by little she edged her way toward them and stood just a few feet away. She wanted to go to him, throw her arms around him, but she knew that she couldn't, so she just stood there and watched. He had not changed at all, even with the mask on, he was still the same suave, charming man she had always known, surrounded by the women and keeping them all amused. She wished that she, too, could join their group, but she was afraid that he might recognize her voice if she spoke, or perhaps even her laugh. She was shaking with excitement so she gulped the rest of her drink in an effort to calm her nerves.
"Oh daddy," she whispered to herself, "Oh daddy!"
She had lost Paulo somewhere in the crowd, but she was never without a man by her side. For once she wished, that the men would leave her alone so that she could just concentrate on what her father was saying, doing and devote her entire attention to him. He turned around several times and glanced in her direction, but she was certain that he hadn't recognized her, that it was just a look of a man admiring a beautiful woman. She smiled at him and then looked away before he could break loose from his group of admirers and join her. If he had spoken to her she wasn't sure what she would do. She couldn't answer him because he might recognize her voice and then he would want to know what she was doing in Nice and what had happened to her. She couldn't bear to see a look of disappointment in his face, she couldn't hurt him like that.
The music was becoming louder and faster as the evening went on and several of the guests were getting rather drunk. She didn't mind the men who were drunk, but there were several of the women who were barely able to walk. One young girl in particular had begun a slow, undulating strip right in the middle of the room, shedding her costume piece by piece until she was completely nude except for her mask. No one really seemed to care or particularly notice her nudity until she began to dance around the room, flaunting her young, lithe body in front of every single man in the room. It wasn't long before she disappeared into another part of the house with two or three of the men and didn't reappear for some time. Evidently some of the other women thought that this was obviously an excellent attention getter, so they followed suit and then a group of the men began to shed their clothes. It was a very liberal group, because the nudity of the guests was neither particularly offensive or shocking, they were just nude, a mass of bodies, different shapes and sizes, but none of the bodies belonging to any specific face.
She wasn't sure what she was going to do. She didn't want to leave the party, but she didn't want to join the others in taking off their clothes until she glanced over in the corner where her father had been standing and he, too, had begun to shed his costume.
"OH NO, Daddy," she said aloud, but no one had heard her in the confusion. She couldn't believe that her father would take part in such a display, but there he was removing the last piece of cloth from around his waist and standing completely naked among the others. She had seen her father in a bathing suit many times, but it was a shock to see him there with nothing to hide his marvelous build, his ample manhood and the strong, sinewy muscles of his stomach and loins.
She knew that if she were going to stay at the party she would have to remove her costume also, because her clothing now made her stand out from the crowd more so than if she didn't have it on, so reluctantly she began to peel away the lace and frills of her already brief outfit and put them in one corner. She heard several people gasp at the sight of her young voluptuous body as she turned around and went back to join the others who were now dancing sensually, touching, rubbing their bodies together in time to the frenzied, frantic music. She knew that she had a beautiful body and she stood proudly among the other guests, hoping that she could spend just a little while longer near her father.
She went back to the bar to get another drink even though she felt that she had had too many already, but she had to do something. She was just ordering a scotch when someone tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance. She froze, trembling, afraid to turn around. She had recognized her father's voice and now she was trapped, she couldn't get away.
"My God no," she whispered before she turned around to face him. She knew that she couldn't speak or he would identify her.
"Would you like to dance," he repeated, his eyes devouring every inch of her luscious, ripe, young body and taking her by the arm.
She put her drink down and pointed to her throat, gesturing that she had had laryngitis and she had lost her voice, but she followed him onto the dance floor.
He held her tightly while they danced and she could feel the tenseness of his thighs as he pressed her hips firmly against his and she could feel the beginning of his erection begin as he rubbed his body against hers. She wanted to pull away, but she found it strangely exciting and rationalized that, after all, he didn't know that it was his own daughter he had in his arms. After they had finished their dance she knew that she would have to get away from him at least for awhile or she would be in a situation that she couldn't handle and she would have to reveal her identity, so she motioned that she would like to excuse herself and went back to the bar. Her heart was beating so fast that she quickly downed three or four scotches before she realized that the room was beginning to spin and that she felt faint.
She staggered down a hallway and into a bedroom that was not already occupied by another couple and laid down on the bed. The room was quite large and dark and there was another bed in the far corner of the room. She was almost in a stupored, drunken sleep when she heard a laughing couple come into the room where she was resting and collapse on the other bed. She hoped that they wouldn't notice that they were not alone, so she turned over quietly and tried to go back to sleep.
She could hear their bodies rustling on the bedspread, the sound of their mouths as they locked in a passionate kiss, and the moans coming from the woman's lips.
"Oooooh," she groaned, "you're so good!"
"My lovely ... my lovely," the man said, and Jennifer gasped. It was her father on the bed with another woman!! A pang of jealousy crept through her body because she knew that it could have been her if she had only stayed with him on the dance floor, but she mustn't think like that. She listened attentively to the sounds of their lovemaking and she could feel a fiery tenseness building in her own loins.
"Daddy ... daddy," she whispered softly, as she heard the shrieks of ecstasy uttered by the other woman, her gasps and moans while they made love. She pressed her thighs and knees tighter together in a vaint attempt to quench the passionate feeling that was taking over her entire being, her very soul. The woman's words were so broken with passion and lust that she wished that she could have a lover like her father. She needed someone to satisfy the burning hunger that was inside her, someone to satisfy her now. She stirred nervously on the bed, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and fairly certain that they wouldn't, they were too enthralled in their own love-making. Their passionate sounds filled her ears and she heard the creaking and groaning of the bed under their furious movement.
"Oh yes ... yes," the woman choked out, "I'm going to cum!"
Jennifer could hardly. stand it any longer. She wanted to run over to the bed and pull her father off the woman and into bed with her, she was so jealous!
"Lift up," she heard her father tell the woman, "Spread your legs wider!"
"Ohhhh, yes ... harder, fuck me harder," she begged him, and she could hear her father raise up farther on his knees and pull the woman roughly toward him, thrusting deep into her until her words became inaudible, mixed with loud groans and gasps of wild uninhibited passion.
How she wished that she were the woman on the bed, that her father was pummeling into her instead of the other woman. The juices of her own passion were starting to flow inside her and brought her knees up to her chest then straightened them out again nervously. She wasn't sure that she would be able to endure the torture her body was going through. She didn't want a vicarious lover, she wanted a real lover, a man, a man inside her NOW!
She knew that her father would soon be reaching his climax because she could hear his rasping breath as he thrust more violently into the prostrate, writhing woman beneath.
"Yes ... yes," she nearly shouted, "Give it to me ... give it to me!"
The smacking of their bodies, locked together in furious passion, the loud panting and gasping was more than she could bear and she twitched and squirmed alone on her own bed.
"Aaaagggggghbhhh," she heard her father groan and she knew that he was emptying his hot sperm deep into the woman's belly because in a moment they were quiet and only their labored breathing could be heard in the dark stillness of the room. She waited patiently, afraid to move for fear that they would discover that they had not been alone, and in a moment the woman got up from the bed and started to leave.
"I must get back, darling," she told her father, "my husband might have missed me by now. Not that I really care, but it will just make things easier if he doesn't know."
Her father chuckled softly and told her to run along, but he remained lying quietly on the bed. His voice had sounded almost impersonal when the woman left, quite the opposite from what it had been just moments before, but she supposed that these things did happen and even her own father was susceptible to a whim of the flesh. It made her feel better to know that the woman had meant nothing to her father except for that one physical moment and she smiled to herself. Men were so lucky, they could have their casual or even momentary affairs and walk away from them, she was sure that she would never be able to do that, especially with a man as attractive and charming as her father.
When the woman had left the room and closed the door behind her, she heard her father turn on his bed and wait for a second before she heard his feet on the floor. She froze, afraid to even breathe, but she heard the footsteps move nearer and nearer to her bed. She pretended to be asleep, but a hand was on her shoulder and back of her neck, shaking her gently.
"I thought I heard someone in the room," he chuckled. "Did you enjoy the show."
She rolled over and looked into her father's face. The room was so dark that she was not certain whether or not he still had his mask on, but she adjusted hers so that he would not be able to tell who she was even if he didn't have his on.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, doing her best to disguise her voice.
"That's all right," he added, "I rather enjoyed knowing that I had an attentive audience, I found it flattering."
She didn't know what to say as his hand ran over the curve of her naked hip and down her thigh, caressing her smooth, supple flesh gently, sending a shiver through her whole body.
"You're much more beautiful, softer than she was," he continued, moving closer to her on the bed and putting his arms on either side of her body and leaning down to kiss her warmly, deeply.
"Ooooohhhh," she moaned softly as she felt her father's tongue slip between her teeth and dart quickly into her throat. She sucked and nibbled gently at his tongue, drawing him down to her on the bed with a new kind of urgency, her nails scraping the solid, hard muscles of his back.
The space between her legs felt hot, wet and vulnerable and she wanted him inside her more than anything else. It didn't matter anymore that he was her father, she loved him and wanted him and she would deal with her conscience later. If he got up and left her now she would have gone out of her mind.
"Oh baby," he whispered against her hair, "Oh baby."
Her mind was screaming ... DADDY... DADDY ... FUCK ME! and her fingers and hands clung to him desperately as though he were a shadow that would disappear.
His hands were caressing the voluptuousness of her young, full breasts, pinching the nipples into erectness and his mouth closed over them and he began sucking noisily. She could feel his long, thick manhood begin to come to life again as it jerked against the inner part of her thigh and she inched her hips forward so that his massive prick was throbbing just between her legs.
She ran her hands searchingly all over his body, pressing every hollow, exploring, learning everything she could. They were both breathing heavily and rocking together as if in time to music. Neither one wanted to rush, they wanted to take their time, explore every crevice, muscle, curve of each thers bodie ;, It was the most exquisite feeling she had ever had, the gentlest, but, by far, the most passionate and consuming.
His erect and pulsing penis jiggled between her thighs, but he had not yet explored the sensitive area between her loins and he wasn't ready to take her yet. His hands grasped her buttocks and pulled her closer to him, letting his fingers find the hot, moist crease between her loins and began to gently rub them backwards and forwards until she was wriggling uncontrollably under his touch.
"God, you're hot," he moaned, "you're so hot!"
She thought that the heat between her legs would consume her, send her up in a cloud of smoke.
"Hold me," he ordered her gently, and she slowly let her fingers grasp his fiery, thick rod and massage -it softly, feeling the lubricant of his passion on the bulbous, rounded head. She caressed it mechanically, easing the foreskin back and forth over his massive rod and she could feel his hips jerk with each movement of her fingers.
His fingers were toying with the fleshy, pink lips of her vagina, seaprating them, squeezing them and running his finger between them just over her damp opening to her womb.
"Yessssss," she groaned, her voice too choked with passion to be distinguishable.
He let one finger slip inside her, tickling the rub bery walls of her warm, wet pussy, scraping them gently with his nail.
He hurt her a couple of times, but her passion that was building in her body made it a delicious kind of pleasure rather than pain. She wanted him to do anything to her, everything to her, it didn't matter as long as he never stopped.
His hands came back to the flushed bulbs of her breasts, stroking them tenderly at first so that the pores of the skin seemed to open under his fingers and she pushed her body up against his strong hands, urging him to crush her with his fingers.
His already massive penis was growing even thicker in her hand and she didn't want to let go, she wanted to hold it forever, feel its length and thickness in her hand for the rest of her life. She didn't care what the world thought, she just wanted him, had always wanted him and now he was going to make love to her!
She whispered his name to herself, her soul crying out for satisfaction, her body aching to be crushed beneath his weight until she could feel nothing else. She was suffering a semi-sweet agony knowing that what she was doing was not right, but also knowing that she had never loved anyone as much as she loved her father, nor wanted anyone as much. She had never wanted to give herself so freely, so completely before, so unselfishly. She bit the skin at the base of his neck, then kissed it gently, watching his muscles jerk in spasms as her tongue ran along his skin, bring bumps of pleasure to the~surface. She wanted to excite him, make him happy, happier than he had ever been before and she -was going to do it! She was going to make him let her do it!
She eased away from his grip slowly and began to move her head and her mouth down his body, kissing every inch of flesh she could manage to cover.
His arms tightened around her and he could feel her body trembling against him and he was filled with an overwhelming tenderness towards her. He did not know who this beautiful, passionate, giving young woman was beneath him, but he wanted to caress her, love her, love her completely. A special warmth flowed through his being, not the animal lust he had felt with the other woman, but a special kind of glow, a happiness and contentedness that he had not felt in a long time.
She kissed the breadth of his chest, the narrowness of his waist and hips until her lips closed around his throbbing phallus. He gasped as her moist, warm mouth closed over the blood-red head of his excitedly pulsating cock and her tongue caressed its length with a gentleness he had never known.
"Ooohhhh," he groaned, "Yes ... yes."
She smiled to herself, happy in the thought that she was making him happy, making him feel the tenderness that she felt for him.
"Darling," he gasped, his hands tightening around her shoulders and pushing her down farther onto him. She could feel the smooth rubbery head press at the back of her throat and she wanted to devour him, consume him totally, make him completely hers and hers alone.
She continued her voracious mouthing,of his hardened prick for several minutes, but as soon as she could taste the first salty drop of his semen she stopped not wanting to bring him to a climax just yet. He pulled her roughly up on him and kissed her fiercely, passion flaring with tenderness as their bodies locked together, their lips moving of their own will over eyes, cheeks, necks, their breathing so inflamed that it choked into half-uttered words.
It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter ... nothing matters, she told herself, her soul on fire with passion and desire. She opened her thighs slightly to let his hot, jerking rod slip between her legs in an agony of sensation and she buried her face in his shoulder, pressing it hard into the muscular flesh. Between her legs was a pool of aching, needing, straining, with a greater and greater yearning that was totally consuming her.
"Oh how I want you," he murmured, "my beautiful."
Tears of happiness began to stream down her face and onto his body as she felt him move between her thighs, separating her legs with his knees and adjusting his hips so that his giant rod was lying gently throbbing between the moist, hot lips of her vagina.
"Oh yes," she groaned as she felt the first stab of his huge cock ease into her, sending tremors through her entire being.
Her vagina seemed huge and incredibly naked, the boiling fluids rising in a faster and more heated flood until she couldn't bear it any longer.
"Aaaaaggghh," she groaned as he pushed his hard, thick cock further into her, splitting her channel with each thrust, driving her into an ecstatic state of delirium. She was quivering, clinging, gasping in an effort to stay her orgasm, so that she could feel the entire length of his manhood as it surged into her with greater and greater speed.
She convulsed under him, hanging onto him, her nails scraping along his back and hips, pushing and pulling against him and away from him with each of his powerful thrusts. Her gasps became hoarser and hoarser as his thrusts became more and more forceful, until she uttered one long, low exclamation and she could wait no longer.
He buffeted her into the mattress, throwing his entire weight on top of her and she pulled her knees back against her breasts so that he could bury himself into her squirming loins to the very hilt.
"God," he gasped, "Oh god ... yes!"
He could feel her contractions around his screaming prick and he held her fast, his cudgel buried inside her to the very tip of her cervix. When she had finished, she could feel his thickness growing even larger and the first warm spurt of his sperm shot deep into her belly.
"Give it to me, daddy," she murmured as he panted above her, his own breathing making what she had said inaudible. He surged inside her, filling her, consuming her with his passion as the last of his hot sperm flooded into her waiting loins.
When they were both spent, they lay side by side on the bed, touching, fondling tenderly, before he finally got up and walked to the bathroom. Neither one of them spoke, but before he left the room he leaned over and kissed her tear stained cheeks awl touched her soft breast ently
"My secret little beauty," he whispered, then walked back into the main room.
She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she just wanted to be alone, alone in the warmth of her feeling awl not have to face the reality of what she had allowed to happen.
"Oh daddy ... daddy ... help me," she cried out loud, sobs wracking her body.
She didn't know how she would ever be able to face him again, how she would ever be able to look him in the eye and call him "Daddy." She wanted to call him her lover, but he must never know that it was she he had made love to.
She didn't completely understand what had made her do it, but she had needed him so badly, needed his strength, his warmth and there he was. He had consoled her, given her strength, but now she wondered how she would live with the terrible knowledge that what she had done was wrong.
He had been such a gentle lover, so tender, so unlike the others she had known that it wouldn't have been all wrong, but no matter how she tried to rationalize it still came back to the same thing . . She had let her father fuck her as though she had been a whore off the street ... and ... and he knew nothing about it.
"Oh no ... DADDY... DADDY ... Please help me!" she sobbed before she finally staggered out, collected her clothes, and ran stumbling from the house to the long silvery beach, that glowed like gold in the shimmering light of the moon.
