In a world in which fraud and deception have become the order of the day - a world in which the highest placed public officials corruptly accept bribes of every sort, in which scandal after scandal erupts, merely to be brushed aside as the norm - every segment of society has suffered. The persons to whom the distraught individual has traditionally turned - the clergy, the members of the teaching profession and those of the medical as well have lost the confidence of the average person. Like everyone else in this less than perfect world, they too have become objects of deep suspicion and distrust.
In many cases, this suspicion is completely unwarranted. The majority of the men of the cloth are decent and dedicated. The world is full of inspired and inspiring teachers. The medical profession abounds with those who truly abide by the Hippocratic oath. But inevitably there are the "few rotten apples who spoil the barrel!"
It is just such a person whom Peter Rheingold has chosen to describe in his brilliant new novel The Doctor Cometh. Dr. John Parker is by no means the protagonist of this fascinating book. He is, rather, the catalyst, the agent which sets the events in action and which lead to the terrifying denouement.
Mr. Rheingold writes with skill and objectivity. A less competent, a less sensitive writer, might well have turned John Parker into a caricature and made of the Barton family - Brad, Donna and Alice, whose very existence is threatened by the machinations of Parker - an equally absurd and distorted picture. It is to his credit that he has seen all of the characters with his own deep sympathy - Parker in his evil, the others in their innocence - and has described them as they are. He has told it, as the current saying goes "like it is."
As a result, all emerge from the printed pages as live and believable human beings, whose problems are universal, whose facing up to them awakens a responsive chord in the hea'rt of every reader. And such a chord will be set in motion by everyone who has faced the terrifying threat of mental illness in someone close to them.
While depicting the evil acts of Dr. John Parker, Mr. Rheingold by no means condemns the practice of psychoanalysis, or the many thousands of honest and dedicated psychiatrists who have brought hope and help and happiness to many more thousands. Rather, he vents his anger against those squalid few who abuse their profession and exposes them in all their malfeasance to the rest of the world.
For this reason, we, the publishers, feel that Mr. Rheingold has done a service to the public. We believe that his book is not only a fascinating
novel, but a true and shocking story which must inevitably have a great impact on the American public.
It is the fervent hope of the publishers that this is so, and that, as a result, the effort needed to rid the world of both the inept and the dishonest who hide behind the caduceus and the Hippocratic oath will be promptly made.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Donna Barton scuffed the toe of her patent leather pump nervously back and forth across the deep pile of the wall-to-wall carpeting. Occasionally, she glanced up to look at her husband, Brad, sitting opposite her. But the pain in. his eyes cut into her heart like a dagger and she looked away, scanning the walls hung with the two excellent paintings she and Brad had invested in, taking in the rest of the well - even luxuriously - furnished living room. They had given Alice a good home, she thought. As lovely a home as any in the neighborhood. And now this!
"Why?" she asked quietly, speaking as much to herself as to Brad. "Why?"
He stared at his wife, shaking his head numbly. Dear God, he thought, but she was gorgeous. Even with her lovely brow furrowed with worry, her wide brown eyes glazed with her own pain and heartache, she was beautiful. She still had the voluptuous figure she'd had when they were married: her breasts round and firm and high, her waist so small he could almost span it with his two hands. Her hips were full, her legs long and slender. It was no wonder that men turned- to stare when she passed by - that others whistled lecherously at his blonde-headed wife. It had taken him a long time to get used to that. There were times when he'd felt like giving those bastards a punch in the nose. Hell, he still felt that way.
And Alice, he thought, their daughter Alice was just as lovely. Why shouldn't she be? She and her mother looked enough alike to be twins. Or almost. Sure, the girl was obviously younger. But at fifteen she was the spitting image of her mother at the time she'd been married, when she wasn't yet eighteen. The spitting image!
And now men turned to look at Alice, to leer at her, just the way they always had with her mother. But that was where the difference was. Donna ignored them, always had ignored them. She'd seemed so goddamned innocent - she hardly knew what a sensation she created every time she walked down the street.
Alice, though, knew. And she reveled in it.
She was damned well aware that her thighs were rich and full, her breasts young and plump and ripe. The clothes she wore, Brad knew, were chosen to show off her voluptuousness. See-through blouses, no brassiere at all, the tightest possible pants. And then she walked along in the most sensuous way she could, the two half-melons of her buttocks swaying provocatively, an open invitation to every man who passed. Brad wondered if that invitation had been accepted - and if so, how many times.
Suddenly his fist smashed into his hands.
"Goddamn it!" he thundered. And as Donna looked at him in half-surprise, half-fear, he said almost apologetically, "Guess I'm all wound up tonight, honey. Get me a drink, would you?"
"Of course," Donna said, getting up at once. She walked slowly to the liquor cabinet, got out a bottle of scotch and found a bottle of soda. "Ice?" she asked.
"Do you mind?"
"Of course not." She went out to the kitchen and came back with a small bowl of cubes. She mixed a drink for Brad and then one for herself. As she lifted her glass to his, she gave him a feeble smile. His was equally feeble and Donna asked, "Worried?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you are."
"That's right," Brad said. "I am."
Donna sat down again, fidgeting with a cigarette now, trying to light it, not succeeding, striking a nratch again. When it went out a second time Brad darted across the room to help her. "That better?" he asked as she finally inhaled and he saw the tiny red dot at the end of the cigarette glow red.
"That's better." She inhaled, held the smoke a long time in her lungs before she finally blew it out. And then she said, "Brad?"
"Yes?"
"What are you so worried about?"
"Oh God!" he held his hand to his forehead, pausing a long time before he answered. "Alice," he said at last. "I'm worried about Alice."
"Yes, I know," Donna said. "I'm worried, too. You know that, Brad." Her wide eyes searched his face, looking for evidence that he did. "But don't you think things will work out somehow? I mean ..."
"Just what do you mean?"
"We haven't been such rotten parents, Brad. Have we?" She looked at him again, her tiny pointed chin quivering, her lips trembling. She shook her head, answering her own question. "No," she said at last, "we haven't been."
"But something's gone wrong."
"Alice's gone wrong," Donna said flippantly, hating herself for not being more serious at a time like this. Quickly she added, "I'm sorry, darling."
Brad shrugged, grinning sardonically. "Sorry she's gone wrong?" he asked. "Or sorry you said that?"
Donna looked at the floor sheepishly. "Both," she said. And then, almost on the point of tears, she added, "It's been a hard day, Brad. It really has."
He nodded sympathetically. "I know it has," he said. "Any day with Alice would try the patience of a saint."
"And I'm not really a saint," she said.
"You must be," Brad told her. "Otherwise you would have blown your top tonight."
Donna stared vacantly at one of the pictures on the wall. "Alice's like that most of the time now," she said at last. "Moody, I mean. You know, sitting there at dinner and not saying a word. And the way she tossed her head and pretended not to hear anything anyone said to her. And sort of looked out the window and didn't notice us, like a ... like a ... "
Donna couldn't think of the word she meant and Brad helped her out. "Like a ham actress," he said.
"Oh no! Not that. I'm sure that Alice is unhappy ..."
"Well, she certainly pretends to be," Brad said vehemently. He shrugged his broad shoulders. "What the hell has she got to be unhappy about?" he asked suddenly. "She's got what's practically a palace to live in, compared to the place I grew up in. Yes, and you too, Donna."
His wife nodded. Maybe that was the problem, though. Alice had simply been given too much. Brad had spoiled her, she thought, with a moment's bitterness. But her rancor disappeared; they had both spoiled their daughter, she admitted to herself. Her mind roved back over the Teddy bears and stuffed bunnies that had almost filled the infant's crib. Over the dolls and doll clothes and carriages that had come later. After that there had been bicycles and roller skates and even skis. And now it was clothes. Sometimes Donna wondered how the girl could stuff all of them into her closet. And once again a feeble smile crossed her lips. She didn't, of course. She just left them all on the floor for her mother to pick up. She felt Brad's eyes boring into her and knew that he was waiting for her to speak. "We've given her everything we could, honey," she said. ''Everything."
"And then some!" Again Brad smacked his fist into his hand. "And she still acts like a four year old brat."
"Oh, no Brad! There's something wrong. I mean Alice must have been hurt or something, to act the way she does."
Brad laughed cynically. "She'll be hurt, all right, if she goes on the way she has been," he said. "Like throwing temper tantrums the way she did." His lips twitched in anger. "By God, if she does that again, I'm just going to take her across my"knee. I'll pull that little mini-skirt of hers up to her elbows and then I'll wallop that ass of hers until it looks like a boiled lobster. Oh, sure, she can scream and squirm and wriggle around all she wants to, but it's not going to stop me. That kid is going to get the spanking of her life if she doesn't stop this nonsense," He rubbed his hands together almost gleefully at the thought of what he would do to his daughter.
But Donna brought him up short. "Spanking won't do any good," she said. "It's too late for that."
"I should have done it long ago," Brad said grimly.
She nodded. "Yes. But you didn't, and now it's too late." Suddenly she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Brad," she said. "What are we going to do?"
Something in his wife's tone of voice alarmed him. "Is there something else?" he asked. "Something you haven't told me? Something I don't know about?"
He stared at his wife, waiting. She sighed heavily. "I'm not sure," she said. "But ..."
"But what?"
A shudder ran through her. "I think that Alice's taking drugs," she said at last.
"Oh, my God!" and now Brad shuddered. He got up, walked around, poured himself another drink, and offered another to his wife who shook her head. When he sat down again he asked, "Why, Donna? Why do you think that?"
"Oh, I'm not sure," she said, forcing a smile and trying to ease the pain of the inevitable blow. "But... "
"You suspect it though? Right?" Donna nodded miserably. "I suspect it," she admitted.
"Why?"
"Well..." she shrugged, looked at the picture on the wall again as if that would tell her what to say. "Because," she blurted out at last, "because! Alice is behaving differently. And she looks different, too. Have you noticed her eyes lately, Brad? Have you?"
He shook his head. "No, I guess I haven't."
"Well, look at them, Brad. Look closely some time. They're kind of glazed, if you know what I mean. And there's something wrong with the pupils. They seem to be dilated.- I guess that's the word. Anyway, she looks as if she can't focus on anything."
"Does that mean she's taking drugs, honey?"
"It could," Donna said. "It could."
"Are you sure? "
"Practically. I mean, I read that article about how to tell if your child is on them in that magazine the other day. And ... and ..." Donna choked back a sob. "And Brad," she went on at last, "they could have been writing about Alice. About how she's changed."
He looked thoughtful and then said, "She's changed, all right. That's for sure."
"Of course-it is," Donna said. "Remember how sweet she used to be. And happy, too. Always smiling, always cheerful. And now she bites your head off if you even talk to her."
"You don't think it's just that she's rebelling against us or something, do you? Sometimes kids are just awful at home, but are okay with others."
"Oh, no, Brad. She's like this at school, too. You know that."
He nodded miserably. "Hear anything more from her teachers?" he asked.
She dabbed at her eyes, brimming with unshed tears. "I had another letter from Miss Murphy today," she said. "She says that Alice's way behind in her schoolwork."
"She said that last month," Brad pointed out.
"Well, she's even further behind now." Donna clasped her hands together in a pathetic little gesture. "Oh, Brad, what are we going to do?"
He shook his head. "I wish I knew," he said, "I wish I knew."
He lit a cigarette and smoked it almost to the filter tip before he spoke again. "I don't like the kids she's running around with," he said at last.
"I don't either!" Donna's voice rose angrily at the thought of them. "A lot of them are on drugs. I know that."
"Is Alice getting hers from them? // she's taking them?"
Donna shrugged her lovely shoulders. "I suppose so," she said, "but I guess it doesn't matter where she's getting them, does it? I mean, if she wants to take them, she'll find a way." Again she clasped her hands, staring pensively off into space. Suddenly she broke the silence. "I don't like that boy she's going with, either," she announced. "That Pete Haller."
"He's not exactly my idea of a charmer either," Brad said. "I wonder what she sees in him."
He thought briefly of the boy, remembering him as unutterably rude and equally unkempt. His hair was shoulder length which, Brad admitted to himself, wouldn't be too bad if it were at least clean. But it looked as if it were never washed.
His clothes looked the same way - dirty blue jeans, faded and torn. Brad wondered what rubbish, heap he had picked them up from. And why? The boy seemed to have plenty of money to spend on other things - cars, hi-fi sets, a motorcycle too. Why not on clothes? Well, that was the way kids acted these days. And there wasn't much he could do about it. But he wished to hell Alice wouldn't go out with him, or bring him around the house so much.
He realized that his wife was staring at him again, her eyes searching his face as she tried to read his thoughts. "Well'?" he asked.
"Pete!" she blurted out. "Brad. I think there's ... there's ... " she had difficulty finding the word she wanted. "... there's something going on between them. Alice and Pete, I mean."
Brad felt a little chill settle in the pit of his stomach. Goddamn, if that bastard ever laid a hand on his daughter he would ... and then he tried to laugh. Wasn't he being ridiculous, reacting that way to what his wife had said? He wasn't even sure what she meant, was he? He tried to brush away his own uneasiness while comforting Donna at the same time. "Oh, now honey," he said, "don't jump to conclusions."
"There is Brad!" she insisted. "I'm sure of it!"
"She probably necks with him a little bit," he said. "I mean most kids do these days." The thought of his daughter's loveliness passed fleetingly through his mind. God, he couldn't blame Pete for trying. He could remember how he'd felt about Donna when they were dating, when she wasn't much older than Alice. Christ, there were some nights he'd thought he would go out of his mind, he wanted her so much.
His virile young cock had lurched and grown hard beneath his pants, and he'd been embarrassed at the bulge there between his legs. There was even one night when he'd damn near lost control - and so had she - and he'd slid his hand under her tight little blouse and then under the flimsy lace and nylon of her brassiere, and his fingers had closed around the firm upright mounds of her full young breasts, kneading and squeezing them. He'd taken the tiny buds other nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, teasing them into little erections. He'd even trailed one hand down over the flat plane of her belly, toward the little triangle of down that nestled between her legs.
God, there had been raging tires shooting flames through him while his whole body tingled and ached and burned in turn. He had slipped his other hand under her skirt then and had begun caressing her between her creamy white thighs. Donna has gasped, sucking in her breath and then "No!"
But he'd gone on stroking her, his hands roving over her flat white stomach and then down to the little "vee" shaped patch of pubic hair modestly covered by her soft nylon panties. He'd even slipped his middle finger under their elastic legband, insinuating it slowly into the moist virginal slit of her pussy.
He didn't know what would have happened if Donna hadn't uttered a little scream of horror and twisted away from him, squirming and pushing at his hands. She'd been crying, he remembered, and had made him take her home at once. She'd refused to see him for days after too, and when she had at last relented she'd made him promise never never to try any such thing again if he wanted to date her.
And Christ! He'd been so ashamed of what he'd done! Donna was a sweet, wonderful girl, and he'd been treating her like some kind of tramp. And even later, when they were engaged - and Jesus, but it had been hell, keeping his hands off her - even then he'd never pawed at her in that lewd way again.
And Alice, he thought, just had to be like her mother, not allowing any man to take liberties with her. They had brought the girl up properly, had taught her right from wrong from the time she'd been a tiny tot. Oh, Christ! She couldn't let that damn Haller kid touch her. She wouldn't!
But looking at Donna's face he wasn't so sure. "How do you know, honey?" he asked. "I mean that Alice and Pete are ... " he swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence. He couldn't hurt his wife by saying what was on his mind. God, she was suffering enough already.
Donna wiped a wisp of hair back off her brow with the back of her hand. "I just know," she said miserably. "I just feel it in my bones."
Brad couldn't help but grin. "A woman's intuition, is that it?"
"Yes, if you want to call it that."
"Well, I wouldn't count too much on intuition," Brad said. "It isn't really the kind of evidence that would stand up in court, now is it?"
Donna shook her head and brushed a tear from her eye. "Maybe not," she said. "But you can't tell me there isn't something ... something terrible, Brad ... going on between those two."
He stood up, picking up his now empty glass. "Can I get you another drink?" he asked. "Might do you good. Perk you up a bit, you know."
"No. No, thanks. I think it would just depress me."
"Sure?"
"Well, maybe," Donna agreed. "Just a short one,though."
"Just a short one," he echoed as he went out. He brought the highball back, along with another for himself and then sat watching his lovely wife sip it. Christ, he thought again, she's so damned beautiful. And he wished to hell he could do something to comfort her. But he couldn't think of anything except to pat her shoulder gently on his way upstairs to bed, after he'd smothered a yawn and said, "I think I'll turn in. You coming up?"
"Not just yet. But soon, though."
"Well, I'm pretty tired. I guess I'll turn in now." He patted her shoulder again. "Try not to worry, darling," he said. "Things will work out. They always do."
Donna listened to his footsteps on the stairs, wishing she could be as optimistic as he was. But the agonizing doubts about her daughter continued to gnaw at her until she shook with fear. What on earth could they do? How could they help the girl? And if they didn't do something what would become of her? Dear, dear God! Was there no answer?
Donna had no idea how long she sat in the dimly lit living room alone with her thoughts. When at last she dragged herself upstairs to the room she and Brad shared, she heard the sound of his gentle snoring. He's so tired, she thought, I wouldn't want to wake him!
She crept stealthily into the room, found a short nylon nightgown, a matching robe and a pair of rabbit fur scuffs, and carried them into the bathroom. She undressed slowly, pulling her dress over her head, reaching around to unfasten her brassiere, letting the straps slide from her creamy-white shoulders and freeing the rounded peaks of her firm breasts. She sighed as the cool air wafted over them, then eased her white nylon panties over her lovely curved hips and her long, full-swelling thighs. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, scarcely seeing her slender waist, the sparse growth of pubic hair at the base of her gently curving belly. With a gesture that was half annoyance, half despair, she wriggled into the thin, delicately trimmed nightgown, then slipped her arms into the sleeves of the negligee. She was glad she had chosen the pink outfit that Brad had given her for her birthday; it seemed to help her morale.
She creamed her face, then lathered it with soap and rinsed it off. After she had patted another cream across her cheeks and brushed her teeth, she brushed her hair. Ready for bed at last, she slid her feet into the scuffs and went back to the bedroom.
She crawled into the king-size bed next to Brad and lay beside him quietly. His heavy, regular breathing told her he was sound asleep and she burrowed into the pillow, closing her own eyes. But she had trouble dropping off. Thoughts of Alice churning through her brain and then suddenly ... "Oh my God!" she said, sitting bolt upright. She hadn't seen Alice come in tonight! Was she still out? She'd had a date with Pete, she remembered. Had he brought her back at ten-thirty the way he was supposed to?
If he had, why hadn't she seen them - or Alice, at least - as she came in? Had she perhaps dozed there in the living room?
Oh, that must be it! Certainly Alice was in her own bed now and sound asleep, just like her father. Once again Donna closed her eyes, once again she found it impossible, to relax. Where was Alice? Knowing that she would lie awake, until she knew for sure, she slipped from beneath the covers, pulled her robe around her and stepped into her slippers, then padded down the carpeted hall to her daughter's room.
There was a dim light creeping from beneath the closed door and Donna gave a sigh of relief. It was all right! Alice was home.
She turned, starting back along the hallway, when a strange noise stopped her in her tracks. It was Alice's voice all right, but she was moaning, groaning even, as if she were sick.
Suddenly Donna was overwhelmed by a feeling of infinite tenderness for the girl. Alice was sick! She needed help! Oh, the poor child!
She hurried back to the girl's room and turned the door knob. There was another moan, and then Donna's heart leapt to her mouth, her daughter's voice. "Ooohh! Oooohh, my God! It feels so good. Soooo gooood."
She heard a man's lewd laugh then, and her hand trembled on the doorknob. Oh, dear God! A man, there in the girl's room. It had to be Pete Haller, she thought. It just had to be! A slight moan escaped her. own lips. She had suspected the worst, the very worst. But nothing .. . nothing so terrible as this. The two of them in the girl's own bedroom!
She took a deep breath to steady herself, maybe she was wrong, she thought. Maybe Alice was sick, really was sick, and maybe Pete had just brought her home and helped her to her room.
Maybe! But it wasn't likely. She wondered if she should go back and awaken Brad and ask him to come here with her. If it was Pete in there and if he and Alice were ... oh, God! She didn't dare even think of what they were doing.
She didn't want to see it either. She wanted to turn and run away, to hide her head beneath the covers of her own bed like an ostrich in the sand. But something held her there at the still-closed door. She had to find out what was going on! She had to learn the truth!
Stealthily, silently, she turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack. By the light of the moon streaming through the open window she made out the naked form of Alice stretched out on the bed. A long-haired boy, his quivering buttocks white in the moonlight, knelt above her and as Donna watched, the girl tangled her hands in his thick curly locks and pulled his head forward. "Oooh," she moaned. "Do it, Pete. Do it! Like that! Like you did before. DO IT!"
Alice had actually said "Pete!" Oh, no! Donna could never - would never - permit this evil thing to happen in her own house. She opened her mouth to scream, to order the boy to leave, to insist that Alice dress immediately. But no sound, no words came. She stood, her mouth slack with shock, unable to move a muscle.
Alice moaned again, pulling Pete's head down toward the snowy mound of one full young breast. As Donna watched he fastened his mouth over the rosy nipple and began to suck on it as though it were a sweet ripe cherry.
The young girl squirmed against him, mewling with pleasure as she ran her hands through his tangled hair. Then she took his hand in hers and guided it to the other milk-white mound. He continued to suck at the tender taut nipple, his tongue flicking out from time to time to swirl around the tiny quivering button while he cupped and massaged her breast in a teasing circular motion.
"Oh, my God! It feels so good! So good!" Alice moaned. And then she uttered a sharp gasp as Pete nipped cruelly at her soft sensitive flesh. Once again an answering cry rose in Donna's throat, to remain strangled there. She had to stop this obscenity somehow! And yet the shock of seeing the lewd ravishment of her own daughter left her paralyzed. For the life of her she could not lift a finger, could not utter a sound, could step neither forward nor backward.
Instead she stood glued to the spot as if mesmerized, watching in horror as Pete's lips began crawling down Alice's writhing body spread before him on the lacy coverlet of her own bed. Slowly they worked their way along the girl's smooth resilient flesh, pausing now and then as he flicked his tongue out rapidly to run it across a particularly sensitive spot.
He licked tantalizingly at the small indentation of her navel while Alice gasped and groaned, then threw her own arms around his lithe naked body, pulling him closer to her arching loins. Her nails clawed across his buttocks, leaving red welts in their wake. He cried out with the momentary pain that further roused his lust, then trailed his lips further along, her flat white belly until they hovered above the sparse little patch of hair at its base.
Once again Alice moaned, once again she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling the boy's searching lips back up her recumbent body, now soaked with sweat. Once again he fastened them over a tiny throbbing nipple while his fingers circled and stroked and cupped, her lovely rounded breasts. And then his hands left the trembling mounds to trace the soft curves of her naked body, to slip down the narrow crevice between the two pink-capped peaks and then across her soft, unresisting belly. As it slipped to the little "vee" between her creamy thighs, Alice sucked in her breath.
He teased thrillingly at the hidden treasure there and then his fingers began to play with the moist narrow pussy-slit, searching out and finding the tiny bud of her clitoris. They caressed it gently until it sprang into quivering life, then slipped down further to part the excitedly moistening lips of her vagina. His middle finger snaked enticingly between them, twisting and turning inside the warm clasping cuntal walls. He plunged his finger farther into her widespread cunt as a sweet moisture seeped from it, the viscous juices drenching his hand.
Donna, still watching from the half-open door, felt a chill of horrow sweep through her once more. And then her head began to whirl, her body to sway. I'm going to faint, she thought and reached out to steady herself while another low moan escaped her lips. The sound of her voice shocked and frightened her. What if the lewdly copulating young couple heard her, turned to find her standing there and spying on them? What would they do? And what would she do if she were discovered?
Once again she willed herself to flee from the spot, to close her eyes and shut out this obscene exhibition; once again she found herself incapable of moving.
Her heart flailed against her ribs, thumping out a wild savage rhythm as Pete's finger continued to fuck deep into her daughter's narrow velvety vaginal channel, impaling the girl on the tip of it. Alice writhed ecstatically now, her head rolling from side to side, her long blonde hair thrashing about on the bedclothes. And then, as he withdrew his finger with a sudden twist of his wrist, she gasped and reached for his hand.
"Oh, God! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Alice pleaded, struggling fruitlessly to pull his fingers back to the fleshy lips of her throbbing cunt.
"Like that?" Pete leered above her, his eyes roving lewdly up and down her slim trembling body.
"Oh, my God! Yes. Yes, I do!"
"What else do you want me to do to you?" he asked, a cruel sneer twisting his lips.
"That's all," Alice moaned. "Just what you're doing. That's all."
"Like hell it is," he said brusquely. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to ... to put your ... your ..."
"What do you want me to do?"
With a little moan that signaled her complete submission to him Alice said, "Oh my God, Pete. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before."
"That's more like it," Pete gloated triumphantly. "What do you want me to fuck you with?"
"Your cock," she begged. "Your lovely big cock!"
"Okay, baby! What you ask for, you get!" He turned suddenly and from the doorway Donna saw his thick young penis jutting out from his loins, stiff and straight as a pole.
Her hands flew to her face and she covered her eyes at the sight. Oh dear God! It was so big . . so big. She had never imagined that anyone could have such an enormous member. And now he was going to force this huge ... huge ... weapon - yes, that was what it was, a weapon - into the tiny moist passage there between Alice's legs. Oh, dear God! He mustn't! He mustn't! He would kill the girl, he would split her in two. She could never take such a mass of flesh into her quivering little belly.
No, she pleaded silently. No, don't. For God's sake, don't. But when she opened her eyes she saw that Pete had grasped his rock-hard cock between thumb and forefinger and was already guiding it straight toward the glistening, half-hidden hole in Alice's pink little pussy. It grazed the softly curling pubic hair and parted the long narrow slit. As he pressed the rubbery scarlet head insistently against the elastic opening, it popped open and seemed to swallow the rigidly throbbing penis.
Alice thrashed beneath him, taking the thick pulsing length deep up between her wetly sucking walls until it had almost disappeared. As her young lover thrust deep into her, she moved back and forth on his impaling cock, rotating her hips and grinding her buttocks into the mattress while she whimpered with pleasure.
He fucked in and out while Alice mewled and purred, crushing her lips against his, writhing her belly to his belly until the two smacked against one another. Slowly but implacably, Pete worked his hands beneath the girl's undulating buttocks, encompassing them in his palms, lifting them to press her loins against his own. She began a more and more frantic rotation of ass-cheeks as he sent his long aching cock pounding and driving into her warm tight cunt, until finally the bloated head brushed against her cervix while his balls slapped hard against the smooth rounded half-moons of her buttocks.
The young blonde strained against him, throwing her legs around his hips, tightening and then releasing them, as his heavy cock probed the very depths of her soft clutching belly. Her low moans of passionate abandon sent now an even more exciting wave of lust crashing through him. Suddenly his middle finger reached into the widespread furrow between her buttocks, searching along the smooth wet crevice for the tiny puckered hole of her anus. He poked and probed at it, then pressed hard until, like her little vagina, the hairless nether ring popped open and his finger slid in to the first knuckle joint.
Alice screamed at the pain, and then relaxed as it ebbed, turning to a new and ecstatic joy. Now she screwed her buttocks back down onto his finger as he twisted and turned it insanely inside the soft fleshy depths of her rectum. She began a low and constant moaning as Pete continued this double ravishment of her defenseless loins, his iron-like penis moving in and out of her clasping vagina like some motorized piston gone wild.
She opened her legs to their fullest as Pete thrust into her with longer, harder strokes. Her daughter's teeth, Donna now saw," were clenched, her eyes shut tight, her whole face contorted with lust as she suddenly cried, "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming! Oh, my God!"
Her eyes were glazed as she writhed and twisted beneath the boy. At almost the same moment he arched back, then thrust forward in a final desperate lunge, gasping out his own climax. "Ooooh! Oh, my God! I'm cumming, too! I'm cumming!"
Their moans seemed to mingle as Pete shot his white-hot sperm deep into her belly, as her own orgasmic juice gushed forth to seep down between her creamy-white thighs, running in tiny rivulets over her supple skin. The hot wet walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped desperately, milking at the jerking organ until the young girl was drained of all strength, her legs collapsing on the bed to splay out obscenely over the sides. Pete groaned one more time, then rolled over, withdrawing his now deflated penis, to lay quietly beside her.
There was no sound anywhere except for the astonished mother's loud groan of utter horror, before she turned and raced back to her own room.
Neither Alice nor Pete heard it!
CHAPTER TWO
"I don't know what to do," Donna said again. She sat wringing her hands and looking at Brad .with the same air of despair she had shown the night before. "I just don't know what to do."
Brad shook his head, his own despair matching that of his wife. "You're sure, honey?" he asked. "Absolutely sure?"
"Of course," Donna said. "Oh, God, Brad! You don't think I'd make up something like that, do you?"
"No. No, of course not. But it just doesn't seem possible. Alice and Pete doing that. And right here in the house, too. In her own bedroom." Every detail of what his wife had seen and described passed through his own tortured mind. Alice ... lovely, innocent Alice lying there on her own bed, her legs splayed out obscenely to the sides, her little pink pussy exposed to the lewd gaze of that long-maned hippie. And then ... and then the way the son of a bitch had fucked the kid, had fucked her almost silly, while Donria watched from the doorway too shocked, too horrified to say a word. No wonder she was wound up like the springs of a clock today, ready to explode at a strange sound, the slightest touch. Jesus, he'd practically been walking on eggs all day himself, trying to keep her calm, to keep things quiet.
His own nerves too were frayed as an old lamp cord as he wondered what to do. And what could he do? Nothing, he told himself. Not one single, solitary goddamned thing.
Talk to Alice? That was a laugh. As if she would ever listen to him. As if she ever had.
Once again he wished that he'd made her toe the line before. The kid hadn't been spanked since she was a tiny tot. And now it was too late. Even so, he longed to haul her across his knee, flip that little skirt of hers up and bring his hand down on her quivering white ass until it glowed like a red neon light beneath those flimsy nylon panties she wore. He wouldn't have cared how she kicked and screamed as he rained blow after blow on her defenseless buttocks. Jesus, no! Her cries would have been music to his ears. He clenched his fists angrily. He would do it yet one of these days, he would give her the spanking she deserved, the spanking of her life. Only, he thought sadly, it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. Alice would run away or something. Still ...
He looked up to catch Donna's eye again. She had been crying once more ... her red swollen lids showed that she'd been crying, off and on, all day - and now there was a catch in her throat as she repeated, for perhaps the hundredth time, "I just don't know what to do."
Brad got up and paced back and forth across the room. Perhaps, he thought ... but no, he discarded that idea. Or maybe ..."Oh. God. No. Then what?"
"Honey," he said with a sudden flash of inspiration, "do you think we ought to talk to that woman at the school?"
"What woman?" Donna asked morosely.
"You know what woman. The counselor. The guidance counselor or whatever they call her."
"And tell her?'" Donna asked with a trace of bitterness in her voice, "And let her know that Alice ... that Alice ... " her voice failed her momentarily. "... that Alice is no better than a common tramp? That she's just a ... a ... whore!"
There was a touch of hysteria in her voice now and Brad did his best to soothe his wife. "There are lots of kids like Alice around," he said.
"That's no excuse for what she's done. It doesn't make it any better."
"No, of course not. But don't you think Mrs ... Mrs ... what's her name?"
"Who?" *
"The counselor. The guidance counselor at the school," Brad said patiently.
"Oh. Mrs. Sebring, you mean."
"Yes. That's the one. Don't you think Mrs. Sebring has seen lots of kids like Alice?"
"No," Donna said perversely. "I don't think so."
"Well, I do. Sure ... that's her job, handling kids like that. And I think we ought to give it a try, don't you?"
Donna sighed and wiped her eyes. "I'm willing to try anything once," she said. "But, Brad! I'd just hate it if she told anyone else about Alice. I mean. I could never walk down the streets of this town again if word got out about what happened. You know that. You know how everyone will talk ... you know ..." her words trailed off into sobs. "Oh, Brad," she said, her words half stifled by the handkerchief she held to her mouth. "Oh, Brad, what are we going to do?"
Donna Barton sat opposite Mrs. Sebring in her small office at Benson High. The old oak desk between the two women was heaped with papers arranged in neat piles, along with a trayful of pencils, ball-point pens and erasers. A couple of paper clips were scattered on the otherwise bare surface of the center of the desk, alongside the small scratch pad on which Mrs. Sebring occasionally noted something that seemed important to her.
"I'm glad you came to see me, Mrs. Barton," she said pleasantly. "Although I'm sorry it's such a worrisome problem that brought you here."
Donna smiled back at the woman, a little diffidently. "It's quite a problem," she admitted. "I really don't know quite how to explain it."
"Drugs?" Mrs. Sebring asked helpfully.
"That's part of it," Donna said, nodding. "That's part of it."
"Have you actually caught your daughter ..." Mrs. Sebring paused and consulted her notes, "... your daughter, Alice," she went on, "... taking drugs?"
This time Donna shook her head. "Not actually taking them, Mrs. Sebring," she said. "But we thought, from the way she's been acting, that she might be."
"I see," Mrs. Sebring said, nibbling at the end of a pencil. "And what made you think that?"
Oh, God, Donna thought. Do I have to go through all this again? A play-by-play description of the way Alice's been acting. And if I have to go into all the sordid details about the drugs, what will she want to know about the rest of it? Will I have to tell her everything I saw that night when she was lying naked on her bed with Pete Haller running his filthy hands all over her? Will I? Will I? .
She looked up to see that Mrs. Sebring was still smiling pleasantly as she waited for her to speak. She cleared her throat. "Well," she said, "it's that she seems so different. She used to be just the sweetest little thing you could imagine, you know. Always smiling, always easy to get along with. And now ... " Donna spread her hands wide in a gesture of dismay.
"Flies off the handle at the slightest thing? Does she do that?" Mrs. Sebring, clucking sympathetically.
The woman had a warmth about her, a feeling of motherliness that made Donna trust her, "Yes," she said. "That's the way she acts."
"Anything else?"
"Well, just the way she looks. I mean, her eyes. Have you looked into her eyes, Mrs. Sebring?" .
The woman shook her head. "No, I haven't," she said. "But the nurse saw her the other day."
"Yes?" Donna's voice was frightened.
"I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Barton. We think, too, that Alice is taking drugs." She riffled through the papers on her desk and pulled out a couple of typewritten sheets.
Donna strained forward, trying desperately to read the small type, but the words on the page were a blur. "Yes?" she asked.
"She's been going with a wild gang, as you probably know."
"Pete Haller," Donna said bitterly.
"He's one of the members of it," Mrs. Sebring agreed. "And certainly one of the wildest, too."
"I might have known that," Donna said, biting her lip, Mrs. Sebring leaned forward across the desk now, resting her elbows on the smooth hard surface, her chin in her hands. "I know how difficult this must be for you, Mrs. Barton," she said in a low, almost confidential, voice. "But in many ways, you know, you're lucky."
Donna's eyes widened in surprise. "Lucky?" she asked. "Lucky? A daughter on drugs and God knows what else. And you tell me I'm lucky?"
"It could be worse, you know."
"Oh, sure!" Donna snapped.
"Alice has never been arrested," Mrs. Sebring said.
Donna sat bolt upright. "Why should she be?" she asked.
"She would have been if she'd been caught smoking marijuana, you know. A lot of the others were. And Alice was with them. It was just chance that she wasn't arrested, too. Just pure luck." Once again she smiled sympathetically, as if she could somehow soften the blow.
Donna could say nothing but "Oh?"
"Or she might have become pregnant," Mrs. Sebring went on.
"Pregnant?"
"Why yes, of course. Several girls in her class have." .
"I didn't know you knew," Donna mumbled.
"I don't, really," Mrs. Sebring said. "But I'm sure that Alice has been having some sort of, shall we say 'sexual relations' with at least one boy in the group. All the others have," she added, smiling knowingly.
"With Pete Haller?" Donna asked.
"Some of them with Pete Haller," Mrs. Sebring said.
Once again the memory of the other night when she had watched the young couple in all their lewd revolting acts passed through Donna's mind. She seemed to see the young girl's naked body stretched out on the bed beneath Pete, offered up to him for sacrifice as though he were some pagan god, perhaps. She remembered that terrible moment when his thick rigid cock had entered her tiny vaginal passage, pushing aside the pink fleshy folds of her cuntal lips to disappear as if it had been swallowed. She felt herself growing dizzy ... faint ... and heard herself asking, "Please, could I have a glass of water."
She wasn't quite sure of what happened later. Mrs. Sebring had brought her the water and she had sipped at it, feeling a little stronger. But her mind had been dazed, her brain spinning, and she seemed to have difficulty concentrating on what was said.
She knew though that Mrs. Sebring had suggested that Alice should see a psychiatrist. "It's the only hope for the girl," she had said.
She remembered, too, protesting, "But Alice isn't mad!"
"No, of course not. But she's a troubled child."
"She isn't really a child," Donna had snapped thinking again of Alice lying beneath Pete Haller as he had fucked lewdly into her.
"She's an adolescent," Mrs. Sebring had amended her statement. "And she's headed for disaster, Mrs. Barton, disaster, if she doesn't get professional help."
Donna had sat nodding her head, speechless, and had finally accepted the list of psychiatrists that Mrs. Sebring had handed her, along with the list - much shorter - of clinics where the girl might be treated. She had probably thanked her for her help as well as for her interest - she couldn't remember that at all - and then had risen, brushing nervously at her skirt, smoothing it down, and shaken hands with the woman and left.
Still dazed, she had driven home, wondering how she should tell Brad of Mrs. Sebring's advice.. Once there, though, her head seemed to clear considerably. She wouldn't tell Brad anything, she decided, until she had done something about it.
She went to her room at once, dropping her coat at the foot of the bed, then settled herself on the pink satin chaise lounge with the telephone beside her and the list of psychiatrists in her hand. She dialed the number of the first one and heard a recorded announcement: "Dr. Levine's office. This is a recorded announcement. Dr. Levine is with a patient. Would you leave your name and telephone number, please? Dr. Levine will return your call."
She dialed the second number on the list. Again there was a recorded announcement. This time, however, she was admonished to "call at five minutes before the hour, please. Dr. Meyer can only accept calls at that time."
She tried a third number, but there was no answer at all. On her fourth call the line was busy. Donna put the telephone down, went downstairs and fixed herself a stiff gin and tonic. When she went back upstairs and tried the fourth number again, the line was still busy.
She looked at her watch, saw that it was five minutes to three and remembered she was to dial one of the other psychiatrists at five minutes to the hour. She couldn't quite remember which psychiatrist, though, and by the time she had made up her mind as to which number to call it was five minutes past the hour.
She tried the number which had been busy and found that it still was. When she tried it again, fifteen minutes later, she still got a busy signal. She decided the telphone was off the hook and angrily cradled her own telephone.
She spent the next hour or so wandering around the house twisting her wedding ring nervously, wondering whether or not to call Brad at his office. She didn't want to tell him what Mrs. Sebring had said - at least not over the telephone. But when he called her later "I've been trying to reach you practically" all afternoon," he said. "The line's been busy all the time." Donna covered her mouth to stifle her sob.
"What the hell has happened?" Brad asked, alarmed by her reaction.
She was on the verge of tears as she told him. Oh, God! She'd had enough - enough of everything! Alice, and then the interview with Mrs. Sebring, and now the sheer annoyance, the sheer frustration of trying to reach one doctor after another - all were driving her to the edge of a breakdown herself.
She heard Brad's reassuring laugh and it perked her up. "Look, honey," he said. "Don't go off the deep end on this. Maybe Alice needs a shrink; maybe she doesn't. But don't you think we ought to talk it over together before we make any arrangements? And anyway, in the end it's going to be up to Alice. What if she decides she doesn't want to see a wig-picker?"
"We'll just have to persuade her," Donna said, her voice harsh.
"We haven't had much luck in persuading her about other things," Brad reminded Donna. "We might not with this, either."
"But what shall I do?" Donna wailed. "Really, Brad, I'm climbing walls here alone."
"Don't do anything until I get there," Brad said. "And I'm practically on my way."
Susan heard the click of the telephone as Brad hung up and then the hum of the empty wire. She replaced the receiver then began to wander aimlessly around the house once more, waiting impatiently for him.
She was watching for him from the window when he drove up at last. It seemed to her that it took him ages to park the car, get out and come up the short flagstone path to the house. She had the door open before he had climbed the steps to the front porch.
"Oh, Brad," she said. "I'm so glad you're back."
"Everyone giving you a hard time, that it?"
She nodded. "Everyone," she said.
"Tell me about it."
"Well ..." she hardly knew where to start.
"Suppose you tell me what Mrs. Sebring said first."
"I told you. I told you on the telephone."
Brad sat down, folding his hands, his face solemn and thoughtful. "How do you feel about it?" he asked. "Sending Alice to a shrink?"
Donna considered the question carefully. "Is there anything else that we can do?" she asked at last.
"Not that I know of," Brad said.
"But what if she won't go? I mean, what you said before?"
"We'll have to face that when the time comes. But the first thing to do, it seems to me, is to make an appointment with one of these characters. Then we figure out how to get Alice to him."
"Well, you try then, Brad," Donna said. "I've been phoning practically all afternoon."
"Okay." He got up and went to the telephone in the hall. It seemed a long time later that he came back.
"Well?" Donna asked.
Brad shrugged. "No luck," he said.
"Couldn't you reach anyone?" Donna asked with a sigh. "No one at all?"
"Just that guy you call at five minutes before the hour."
"Yes?" There was a spark of hope in Donna's wide brown eyes.
Brad extinguished it quickly. "He has no time," he said. "Has a waiting list as long as your arm. It would be months before he could even see Alice."
"Did he have any suggestions?" Donna asked haltingly.
"I told him the names of the others that Mrs. Sebring gave you. He said they were all good and to keep trying them."
Donna wrinkled her brow. "What do you intend to do?" she asked taking a cigarette and lighting it.
"Keep trying," Brad told her.
He called a second psychiatrist an hour later and finally reached him. His answer, however, was the same. He had no time. "Not for a couple of months anyway."
"How many months?" Brad asked.
"I don't know. Four or five, maybe. Maybe more. You understand, Mr ... Mr ... "
"Barton," Brad said. "Brad Barton."
"You understand, Mr. Barton, it's always hard to be precise about these things."
"I understand," Brad said, slamming down the receiver. "God damn!" he muttered. "Why the hell. .. "
"What is it?" Donna called from the other room.
"He doesn't have time, either."
"Do you think you should try one of the others?" Donna asked.
"One is supposed to call us back, isn't he? I thought you left a message."
"I did. But we've been on the telephone practically all afternoon. Maybe he's tried to reach us. Maybe He tried but couldn't."
"Could be," Brad said. He dialed the first number on the list and got the same recorded message. "Please leave your, name and number ..."
"Same thing," Brad reported with a sigh. "Leave your name and number."
"There's one other to call, isn't there?"
"I'm dialing the number now." A few minutes later Brad slouched back into the living room. Donna looked up expectantly. "He said to get in touch with the local office of the Bureau for Mental Health."
"Did he give you the number?"
"Yes."
"Well, why don't you call, Brad?"
Barton looked at his wrist watch. Christ! He'd had no idea the time had passed so quickly. "It's too late," he said. "I'll call tomorrow."
Donna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Yes, tomorrow," she said impatiently.
"Now, look, Donna..." there was a note of anger in Brad's voice. And then it softened.
"Honey," he said, "I'm doing all I can."
Donna melted. "I know," she said softly, eternally grateful that he was beside her, that she could depend on him. "Oh, Brad!" But she wondered if as much as he could do would ever be enough.
She had the same doubts the next day when he came home from work to report that he had called the various clinics that Mrs. Sebring had recommended. "They just told me to call those shrinks we'd already called."
Donna sat huddled in a corner of the sofa. "Did you tell them?" she asked. "Did you tell them that we'd already called them all?"
"You can't say much to a recorded announcement," he said glumly.
Despondent though she was, Donna laughed. "No, I guess not," she said. "And that reminds me! The other recorded announcement never called back. Do you think; we should try him again?"
Brad shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt," he said. He went out, bringing the telephone back with him, then sat down again to dial the number. After a moment he made a face. "Not even a recorded announcement this time around," he said.
"Then what?"
"The telephone's been disconnected!"
Donna said, "Oh, no!" and then sat staring disconsolately into space.
"Don't worry, Donna," he soothed. "Well find someone."
"How?"
"I don't know for sure. But maybe if we asked around ..."
Donna looked at him dubiously and he hastened to add, "Well, we can't be the only ones in this pickle. And other people have found psychiatrists. They must have."
"But how?"
"I don't know. But I'll ask."
"Whom will you ask?" Donna said, losing her patience.
Brad thought a while. "Rick Elman's wife was in a hospital for a while, I think. I'll ask him."
"Tonight?"
"Tomorrow."
"You won't forget?"
Brad winked at his wife. "How could I?" he asked. "With you around to remind me?"
It was late afternoon the next day before Brad finally tracked down Dr. Parker. It had taken a long time, with a call first to Elman, then a call, at his suggestion, to a psychiatrist in a nearby city. "Only he's not really a psychiatrist," Elman had insisted. "He's an analyst."
"But isn't he a doctor?"
"No. He's a lay analyst," Elman said.
"If you ask me, they're all lay analysts," Brad said. "Isn't that what that couch is for?"
"Could be," Elman laughed. "Could well be."
Brad was serious again. "But you think this man is okay?" he asked. "We don't want Alice going to any crackpot, you know."
"Well," Elman hedged. "I don't know him, myself. But someone told me about him when we were looking for a shrink ourselves, a while back. And I guess he's as good as any."
"Well, I'll take your word for it," Brad said. Christ! The man had to be reasonably good, didn't he? Otherwise he would never have been allowed to practice. Suppressing whatever misgivings he had, the distraught father called the number he had been given.
A woman answered who said she was Dr. Curtis' secretary. No, she was sorry, but Dr. Curtis was not taking any more patients. However, there was another analyst, in another town, at a place called Miramar. Perhaps Mr. Barton would like to give him a call?
"Yes, yes, of course," Brad said, adding, "I suppose he's a lay analyst too?"
"Yes," the secretary said. "And he's been engaged in some very interesting experiments lately."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Brad asked.
"Well, he's not a Freudian, of course," she explained. "And he really doesn't belong to any of the other schools that you must have certainly heard of."
"Such as.. .?"
"He's not a Jungian, either , . . "
Oh Christ! She was going highbrow, technical even, on him. "Does he get results?" Brad asked, cutting off the flow of names - Horney, Alder, Fromm, Sullivan that spewed forth.
"He seems to," the woman said.
That was enough for Barton. "Give me his number," he demanded. "I'll call him now."
Dr. John Parker himself answered the telephone. His voice was soft and gentle with just the faintest hint of an accent. German? Viennese, perhaps? Or even Russian? It was hard to tell, but Brad couldn't have cared less. All that mattered was that Dr. Parker said, pleasantly, "But of course, Mr. Barton. I would be glad to try to help your daughter."
"When can we see you? "
"Whenever you like."
Brad breathed a sigh of relief. "This week sometime?" he asked.
"But of course."
"Tomorrow? No, we can't make it then. Friday, maybe?"
"But of course."
"What time?" Brad asked.
"Whatever time is best for you, Mr. Barton."
"The morning," Brad said. "Eleven o'clock. Okay?"
"Okay?" The word had a certain charm, spoken as it was with the soft Central European accent that Parker affected for just that reason.
Brad was taken in completely. "We'll be there," he said. "You can bet on that." After he had cradled the telephone he called Donna. ""Honey," he said, "I've got great news for you." Then he told her.
"Oh, Brad!" she said. "Oh, Brad! That's wonderful. It just goes to show what happens if you keep trying!"
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Parker glanced at the notes on the pad of paper on his desk, then at the date book beside it. He had an appointment at eleven o'clock, he noted, with Mr. and Mrs. Brad Barton of Balkely. They were coming to arrange for treatment for their daughter.
Dr. Parker teetered his pencil between his thumb and middle finger. This, he thought, could be interesting. Very interesting, in fact. Of course he hadn't learned too much about Alice over the telephone, from her father. The man was distraught - most fathers in that situation were, he reflected. And he admitted to himself that he could hardly blame them. He would have felt the same way if he had a daughter of fifteen.
He licked his lips lasciviously. God! Fifteen! and from what Barton had said - although he hadn't said much - the kid was worth waiting for. He had a picture in his mind of a slim little thing with a voluptuous body. A regular junior-sized Venus. Full hips and thighs and breasts that were plump little mounds of soft sensuous flesh, tipped with tiny budding nipples that quivered an invitation. Jesus! Here he was, drooling over them already. Literally drooling! He could hardly wait to take one of those rose-tinted tips between his own lips and suck it, swirling, his tongue around the tender mound. And run his hand over the snowy flesh and along the narrow furrow of youthful cleavage. Oh God! Wait until she got his treatment! She'd never forget it! And neither would he!
He wiped his brow, annoyed to find it was wet with cold sweat. Take it easy, he cautioned himself. At least until this dish gets to Miramar.
He wiped his forehead again and picked up his pen. He should really finish the article he was writing for one of the small journals on psychiatry before the Bartons arrived. He chewed the end of the pen, wondering what more he could say. "Absolute freedom," his article began, "is the sine qua non of therapy." He paused, wondering if he had used the phrase correctly. Latin, he thought dourly, was never his forte, and then he smiled a little at the idea of using another foreign word. Oh, well, if he didn't know what it meant, neither would his readers. So ... ? He shrugged.
"Absolute freedom, especially sexual freedom," he wrote, "is essential if the individual is to develop normally. We have all seen those constrained, pathetic neurotics who have been denied the right to the greatest of all freedoms, that of sexual freedom.
"The repressed man or woman is a sick man or woman. His life is miserable and he makes living for others equally miserable. Yet such suffering is unneeded and unnecessary. Even those whose lives have been warped -irreparably, it would seem - by an unfortunate and moralistic upbringing, can lift their heads and turn, like flowers to the sun, to joy and happiness. The secret for such a restoration to the full life Nature intended for each of her children is a full, vital and varied sex life.
"Away with guilty feelings. What could be more pure, more natural, more normal than a man and woman reaching climax together? What could be more charming, more enchanting than two small children playing together - playing with each other, as the world would express it -running their hands over each others' naked bodies, the small girl exploring her young friend's penis, stroking it, perhaps bringing it to an erection, the little boy discovering the marvels of the other's vagina, caressing the warm flesh there between her legs, going so far, even, as to insert a tiny finger deep up inside it?"
"Away with guilt!" he repeated, reading over the scrawled paragraphs. Christ! That was good! Even he was getting excited by it. His penis lurched and his loins began to ache. He wondered if there was a patient around, waiting and ready for his own special brand of therapy.
Therapy! That was as good a name for it as any. One thing about it, no one ever forgot it. And damned few resisted it, after he got them over their initial inhibitions. Once they did, they just never got enough of it.
Once again he read over what he had written. "Full, vital and varied sex life," he said aloud. He liked that phrase. And by Jesus, he meant it, too. Especially that part about variety. There wasn't anything that the patients around here didn't try. "Whatever you want, whenever you want!" That was the motto at Miramar.
He looked up, glancing out the window at a young girl standing on the path that wound through a bed of flowers. God, but she was gorgeous! He sucked in his breath, then let it out in a low lewd whistle. He wouldn't mind sampling the girl now, he thought. And why shouldn't he? Wouldn't it be just a matter of "practice what you preach?"
The sight of her long slim legs, her fully rounded breasts, her tiny waist sent little bolts of lightning flashing through his loins, making his cock jerk into semi-hardness beneath his pants. And the outfit the kid was wearing didn't do a damn thing to cool the fire that now raged in his balls. Her skintight blouse was open to the waist - my God! practically to her navel - and her midriff was bare. And her mini-skirt was so short it just managed to cover her hips, swinging back and forth over the tops of her thighs.
He leaned back in his desk chair, following the girl with his lecherous eyes. No doubt about it, he told himself. He really went for young girls. And then he burst out laughing. He went for older ones too, he reminded himself. He went for practically anything in skirts, or in hotpants, for that matter.
Parker licked his lips, remembering with lascivious pleasure the particular joy that recent fad - hotpants - had given him. Too bad so few women were wearing those tight-fitting shorts that outlined the undulating curves of their ass-cheeks and clung to the narrow crevice between them.
He got up from the desk and walked to the window. Why not, he asked himself again. Why not screw around a little with this dish, standing there in the bright sunlight as if she were on stage or something, with all her charms illuminated, the way they would be by spotlights? It was therapy, wasn't it? And it would do her good. Once again he licked his lips. As for him, it would do him good, too. It would do him a world of good. Relieve his inhibitions as if he had any, he thought, laughing to himself - relieve his inhibitions so that he could function at top speed.
His eyes roamed around the room, stopping for a moment at the couch, he thought. A sign of Dr. Freud's genius, making his patients lie down on a couch.
Of course, Freud had stopped there. Like every other analyst Parker had ever heard of, the great Viennese man of medicine had merely sat behind the couch while the patient, stretched out on it babbled on ... and on ... and on ... about whatever it was that troubled him. But he, Parker, had gone way beyond that. Everyone knew these days that what worried people who went to wig-pickers was sex. So instead of letting them talk about it -. a long and sometimes useless process - he preferred to give them a sample. Let them learn by doing, that was his method for curing madness. He'd even invented a little maxim about it, one he didn't care to have publicized but one that expressed his sentiments precisely. "Screw the silly silly and they won't be silly any more." So why not do that and do it right now? The little girl out there in the flower bed was just asking for it, begging for it, in fact. You owe it to her, he reminded himself, to do everything in your power for your patients. So why not call her in and give her an extra session of his own brand of therapy here on his own couch? He'd been leaving too many cases like this one in the hands of his assistants. It was time to take a personal interest in them.
He looked out the window again, watching the girl as she turned and walked along the flower-lined path, the firm spheres of her ass-cheeks quivering provocatively. A few feet from him she stopped and leaned over to pick a zinnia nodding up to her, fully exposing her excitingly rounded buttocks beneath her flimsy nylon panties. The tiny strip of fabric up between her thighs tightened firmly, slipping enticingly into the crevice there, even outlining the little puckered opening of her anus. Christ! This kid was sexy! He ought to grab her right now, pull her into his "consultation room" and rip her clothes right off her. Strip her naked and run his hands over her trembling white flesh . . .
He opened the window to call her name when the telephone rang. Goddamn it, he thought. Now, of all times! Goddamn you, Alexander Graham Bell.
He sighed his disappointment, turned and walked quickly back to the desk to pick up the telephone. "Dr. Parker is in conference right now," he said in a falsetto voice, imitating one of his young secretaries. "He cannot be disturbed."
There was a host of derisive laughter from the other end of the line and then the receptionist said with heavy sarcasm, "Well, when Dr. Parker's conference is over, you might tell him that Mr. and Mrs. Barton are waiting for him."
He did a startled doubletake, then laughed himself. "Okay, Dorothy," he said. "Send them in in about ten minutes, will you?" "
Oh, Lord! Dorothy thought, banging down the telephone. The old goat is probably sitting in there playing with himself again. She turned and smiled pleasantly at Brad and Donna. "Dr. Parker is in conference," she said politely. "He'll be with you in about ten minutes. Will you have a seat, please?"
The two of them waited impatiently. Donna picked up a magazine and riffled through its pages. It was going to be so difficult, she thought - so damned difficult - telling Dr. Parker why they had come here. She wondered if he would expect her to describe what she had seen that awful night when she had caught her daughter and Pete together in her room. Or could she just sort of suggest what had gone on? And what if he questioned her? What would she say then?
She blushed a little, just thinking of it, and" then brushed aside her qualms. The man was a psychiatrist, wasn't he? She shook her head, remembering what Rick had told Brad. He wasn't a psychiatrist, not an M.D. But he was an analyst. And wasn't that almost the same?
Of course it was. So he must be used to all sorts of weird and perverted things. Nothing could shock him. Nothing ever shocked men like that. There would be nothing she could tell him that he hadn't heard a hundred times. Still, she hoped she wouldn't have to say too much about what she'd seen, that he wouldn't ask too many questions. Even under the best of circumstances, it would be difficult for her and Brad.
She heard the telephone on the desk give its short peal and then the receptionist was smiling and saying, "Mrs. Barton, Mr. Barton. Dr. Parker will see you now."
Donna stood up, waiting for the woman to lead them to the director's office. The worried mother shifted, a little impatiently, from one foot to the other, waiting for the receptionist to rise too. And then the door opened and Dr. Parker himself came in, smiling graciously and holding out his hand to Donna.
"Mrs. Barton?" he asked. He turned to Brad. "And Mr. Barton?" They nodded and he said, "Now you were sent to me by ... ? Oh, but let's go into my office where we can talk."
There he motioned the two of them to easy chairs, then sat down behind his desk. "Yes, now," he said, repeating his earlier questions, "You were sent to me by ... ?"
"It was Dr. Irwin," Brad said. "Dr. Henry Irwin."
"Oh, yes." Parker had only vaguely heard of Irwin and hadn't the faintest notion of how Irwin had heard of .him. It didn't matter, though. The important thing was that the two of them were sitting here in his office right now. He ran his eye up and down Donna's voluptuous figure. He wouldn't mind giving her some of his special therapy, he though. Not in the least.
"Oh, yes," Parker said again. "Dr. Henry Irwin. A very fine specialist. I've known him for many years. And I've admired the work he's been doing. Admired it very much, I must say, Now were you a patient of his, Mr. Barton? Mrs. Barton?"
The two of them shook their heads. "I don't really know him," Brad explained. "And neither of us has ever been to see a psychiatrist before." He remembered that Parker was an analyst. "Or a psychoanalyst or anything," he added. "No, it was our daughter we called about. And it was a friend of mine, Rick Elman, who sent me to Dr. Irwin." He smiled, feeling a little like a schoolboy caught cheating on an exam and trying to explain the reason.
"Yes, yes," Parker said hurriedly. It would be better to drop the subject, he thought. "And your daughter?" He stared again at Donna hoping that the kid took after her mother.
She twisted her wedding ring nervously. How much would she have to explain? She cast a quick glance at Brad, nodding and urging him to speak up. He nodded, too. "Yes," he said. "It's our daughter, Alice. She's fifteen. Cute kid, too!" He thought he detected a lecherous grin playing around Dr. Parker's lips for just a moment. But when he turned to stare at him, the man was busy writing on a pad of paper on his desk.
Without looking up Parker said, "And just what seems to have been the problem with Alice?" He scribbled something else, looked up briefly, then bent over his desk again.
"We think she's been on drugs," Donna said.
Parker remembered his Viennese accent. "Ach, zo!"
"Yes," Brad put in quickly. "We're almost sure of it."
"Und how can you tell?"
It was Donna who spoke up. "The way she looks," she said. "Her eyes, I mean. They seem to be sort of glazed. You know?"
"Ach, zo!"
Donna shot Brad a quick glance. So the man was Viennese, after all! Hadn't she told her husband that? She had been certain that she had heard of him had read of him on one of those learned medical journals she had picked up at the library. She thought that one magazine had identified him as an associate of Dr. Freud himself. But she knew that couldn't be true. He was far too young. And he's attractive, she admitted to herself. Terribly attractive. And then she blushed a little and put thoughts of that nature out other mind.
"Zo," Dr. Parker said, "you think your daughter iss on drugs. And vat else?" He hastily pulled on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses which made him look, so he had been told, both mature and dignified. "Anything else?"
"Well, yes," Donna said hesitantly.
"Yes?" Dr. Parker stared, owl-like, waiting for her to go on.
She looked at Brad with desperation and saw that he was staring at the floor. There wasn't a damn thing for her to do, she thought disconsolately, but to plunge in herself and try to explain what "else", as he called it. She looked up and saw his gentle smile - "kind old Doctor Jenkins"' she thought fleetingly, remembering a soap opera she had heard on the radio when she had been a small child. Oh, God! She was being unfair to this man! He was trying to help her. Her and Brad and Alice, too.
She smiled back at him, cleared her throat and spoke slowly and quietly. "We think . . she said, and then paused.
"Yes?" Parker prodded her.
"We think that she's been ... been having ... having ..."
"Yes?"
"... having sexual relations." Parker tapped his pencil authoritatively on the desk. "Sexual relations," he said. "Would you care to be more precise, Mrs. Barton? Please?"
She looked up at him, feeling her face go scarlet. "I'll try," she said helplessly. She cleared her throat, searching for words, but could find none. She spread her hands wide, shaking her head. "It's very difficult," she said.
"But Mrs. Barton," Parker said sternly, "how can I help you ... help you to help your daughter ... if you won't speak frankly to me?"
"I don't know," she said in a frightened voice. Her whole body trembled and tears had risen to her eyes. What on earth was the matter with her? She knew how important it was... .how terribly important it was ... for her to face reality. And she made up her mind that she would. "She was having sexual relations," she repeated and then realized that that was just what she had said before.
Once again Parker tapped his pencil on the desk. "Yes," he said. "But with a man? Or with a woman?"
Donna's mouth gaped open. Oh, dear God! Did he really mean that? He was talking about perversions. . And what Alice had been doing ... God knows it was bad enough ... but what she had been doing had been nothing like that! Nothing at all! "Why," she said, "It was with a man - a boy, that is..- of course."
"Ah, yes, I see, Mrs. Barton. And can you tell me something more?" He watched her closely as she squirmed uncomfortably. This interview was going to be a lot more fun than he had anticipated.
"Well..."
"Yes?"
"Well, they were ..."
"Yes, I understand what you are trying to say. But," he fell back on the Viennese accent, "could you pleeze be a little more precise?"
"Yes, of course, Dr. Parker. I'll try." But again she sat, silent as the Sphinx, twisting her handkerchief now instead of her wedding ring.
"Well?"
"Well.... they were both naked ..."
Parker bent over his scratch pad, scribbling furiously. "Both naked," he repeated. He looked up. "And then?"
"And then . . .well, they were both naked ..."
"You said that, Mrs. Barton."
"And he was sort of... sort of ... "
"Yes?"
"Well, he was sort of on top of her."
"And then?"
Something seemed to snap in Donna. She sat up straight, her hands, folded in front of her, staring directly into Parker's eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"Vat I mean," he said, remembering his accent: again, "is vat happens next? Does she . ,. Mrs. Barton, you understand, we must be absolutely frank here. Iss that not zo?"
She nodded miserably. "Yes," she said.. "That's so."
"Very well. Vat happens next?"
Donna shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I... I just can't."
Parker rose in pretended anger. "How do you expect me to help you?" he asked. "Yes, and to help your daughter, your little girl Alice ... that is her name, yes? ... if you do not help me?"
"I'll try," she said. She opened her handbag, took a handkerchief from it and Wiped her eyes. "They were having intercourse," she said at last.
Parker put down the pencil with a gesture of annoyance, a look of exasperation. "Vat kind?" he asked.
Donna looked up in dismay. "Why, intercourse," she said. "You know ..."
"Mrs. Barton, there are many kinds of intercourse. There is genital, which most of us tend to think of as normal. That's the kind in which the penis of the man is inserted into the vagina of the woman ..."
"Yes, that was it," Donna said, blushing scarlet now trying to stop the flow of words. "That was what I saw."
But Parker was enjoying her discomfiture too much to stop. "Of course," he said, continuing to lecture her as if she were in some class on sex education meant for the most innocent of adolescents, if not children, "of course, there are other kinds of sexual intercourse."
"I know ... I know."
"There is, for example, that in which the male licks, or sucks, if you wish, the woman's vagina. Or that in which the woman takes the penis into her own mouth, sucking on it until the man ejaculates. You understand the term, Mrs. Barton?" He wondered just how far he could go in his discourse, how obscene he could be. He would love to see the expression on Donna's face, he thought, if he threw in some of the more vulgar terms used to describe sex. How would a phrase like "he rammed his cock deep into her cunt" affect her? Or what would she say if he talked to her about sodomy? Probably faint dead away, he decided.
He glanced at Brad Barton and decided to drop the subject. His face was red, too, either from embarrassment or the first faint flush of anger. It would even be a good idea to offer some sort of half-apology. He smiled disarmingly at him. "I hope you are not offended," he said. "But it is very important ..." again the slight trace of the foreign accent, "... very important that I understand exactly. That is the scientific method."
Brad nodded, mollified. "Yes," he said. "I see."
"Now as for Alice," Parker said, "what other things have you noticed.. Her schoolwork, for example? Problems?"
"Terrible problems," Barton admitted. "Can't keep up with the others, that sort of thing. You know."
"Yes, I know. Now tell me. Is it that she can't keep up, or that she won't?"
"She won't," Brad said. "She's bright enough. Isn't she, honey?" he asked Donna. She nodded and he went on, "She's really very bright. But she refuses to work."
Parker duly noted that information. "Temper tantrums?" he asked. Barton and his wife nodded. "Moody? Yes." He wrote that down, too. After a few more questions he looked up with a smile, then folded his hands again. "Well, I think I have the picture now," he said.
Donna looked at him anxiously. "Tell me, Dr. Parker," she implored, "do you think you can help our little girl?"
He nodded vigorously. "I'm sure I can," he said. "Yes, certain of it."
Donna breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm so glad," she said. "So glad."
Brad chimed in with, "It sure would be great if you could, Dr. Parker. You have no idea how worried we've been these past months."
"Ah, but I do," Parker said. "I do. I haf had zo many parents coming to me, just like you. Distraught, almost mad themselves with worry. And I haf helped their children. Yes, I haf!"
"I only hope you can help Alice," Donna said.
"Now," Parker made his final pitch. "Of course, she will have to stay here at Miramar for a while."
"How long, Doctor?"
"Three or four months, maybe. I do not know yet. It depends on Alice, of course. You understand?"
"Oh, yes. Yes."
"And then, of course, we must discuss the other arrangements. Miramar, I'm afraid, is very expensive,"
"Doctor," Brad Barton said, with tears in his eyes. "We'll pay anything ... anything... to see Alice well and happy again."
"I am sure you will," Parker said. "And I am sure you will not be disappointed in her transformation here. Now if you will just come with me, one of my secretaries will explain about the financial arrangements. This way, please."
In an office down the corridor, Parker shook hands with them, then turned them over to a secretary who presented them with two or three forms to fill out. When they had finished, she handed them a couple of illustrated brochures - they recognized the gardens of Miramar on the front and the main building on the back - and suggested they read them carefully. "It will explain everything," she told them. "What Alice is to bring with her, what she is forbidden to have here, visiting hours. Everything."
"And we're to bring her here on Wednesday? Is that right?"
"That's right, Mr. Barton."
"We'll be here," Donna said.
"Yes," the secretary said. "I'm sure you will." She picked up the papers they had filled in and slid them into a drawer as they closed the door behind them. Once outside, a momentary pang of doubt assailed Donna. "Oh, Brad," she said.
"You do think we're doing the right thing, don't you?"
"I'm sure of it."
"I was just a little "worried there for a while. I mean when Dr. Parker started talking that way ... you know." She thought about it for a long time. And then she said, "But he must have been right. I mean, he's the doctor, isn't he? And maybe that's where we went wrong with Alice. Maybe we just weren't frank enough."
CHAPTER FOUR
Alice Barton walked slowly up the path to Miramar, following her parents curiously. The idea of spending a few weeks, as she had been told she would at Miramar, intrigued her. She didn't quite know what it was or what to expect. But the idea of escaping school pleased her. She thought she would miss Pete Haller and she was certain that he would miss her. And that too pleased her. He was taking her too much for granted these days and this would be a good way to teach him a lesson. Besides, if she didn't like it here she could split, couldn't she?
She went into the office where Brad spoke to the secretary. "This is my daughter, Alice," he said, introducing her.
The young woman gave the girl a friendly smile. "Hello, Alice," she said. "I'm Miss Allison. I'll show you to your room. And then I'll tell Mr. Parker that you're here."
Alice shrugged. "Okay," she said.
Miss Allison picked up one of Alice's suitcases and said, "This way." She turned to see Brad and Donna step forward, as if to accompany him as he got up and came around it to take her hand. Man, she thought, he's groovy! Why, he didn't look like a doctor at all, and certainly not like a shrink! Holy cow! He looked more like a movie star. Boy, if all the doctors around here looked like that, this might be fun!
"Vel, Alice," Parker said, taking her hand now, "I am glad to see you here. Very glad to see you." He noticed the look of pleasure on the girl's face and decided suddenly to dispense with the accent. Now he pointed to the chair drawn up before the desk. "Why don't you just sit down and tell me all about it?"
"About what?" Alice asked.
"About what's troubling you."
Alice shrugged. "Nothing's troubling me," she said. "It's mom and dad/who are troubled."
"Oh?" Parker sat down staring at her in turn. He licked his lips lasciviously. Jesus! This kid was built! And she didn't-do anything to hide the fact, either. Her tight little see-through blouse showed off the sweet pink mounds of her firmly plump young breasts, outlining the twin buds of her nipples pressing hard against the sheer fabric. Her waist was tiny and her hips were marvelously curved. God! Just looking at her made his loins ache, his cock lurch beneath his pants. It wouldn't be long, he thought, before she was benefiting from his personal treatment, one that would do them both a world of good.
He took his eyes off her lovely body and glanced up at her face. It was charmingly heart-shaped, and framed by long silken hair that caught the beams of sunlight slanting through the window to shine like burnished gold. She smiled at him, her warm moist lips curling back slightly over her pearl-like teeth. Oh, Jesus! He hadn't had a patient like this in years! He licked his lips again at the thought of that lovely little mouth closing around his own stiff cock, the moist pink tongue swirling around it until it would nearly drive him out of his mind.
Suddenly he realized that she was staring at him, waiting for some comment. He cleared his-throat and drew his face into a solemn, even stern, expression, wiping away his lecherous smirk. "Tell me, Alice my dear, do you know why they are toubled? That is, do you think they're worried about you? Is that the problem?"
There was a glint of anger in her eyes as she answered. "They're just a couple of squares," she said. "I mean, like you know ... they're real cubes! They're so darned uptight you couldn't believe ..."
Parker nodded sympathetically. "I can believe, my dear," he said. "This is a frequent problem between parents and children, you know."
Alice took an interest in what he was saying for the first time. Man! He was talking sort of as if he was on her side! Well, that was something new! She gave him a puzzled look and then said "Yeah?"
"Frequent," Parker assured her. "A very frequent problem. But it's not an insoluble one, you know."
"What can I do about it?" Alice asked. "Man, they're on my neck all the time. It's 'Alice, are you out with that Haller boy again? You know we disapprove of him?' or 'We expect you back at ten-thirty, Alice. Don't forget'!" She sighed, then made a face. "I suppose it'll be just the same here," she said. "I'll have to do whatever you say!"
The lovely young face grew sullen and Parker hastened to reassure the girl. "Not at all," he said. "That isn't the principle "on which we run Miramar."
"No?"
"No. You see. Alice, we're interested in freeing you - freeing your psyche, one might say, from all these false notions which inhibit you and prevent you from functioning to the best of your ability. And we feel that the way to do that is to let you do ... in fact, to encourage you . ..to do whatever you want. And whenever you want to, too, I might add."
"Yeah?" Alice's eyes opened wide with surprise, "I thought you were supposed to be a shrink?" she said.
Parker smiled approvingly at her, letting her know that he was secretly pleased - even delighted - at the way she spoke. "I am a ... a shrink, as you express it." He smiled again, then suddenly asked, "Have you ever been to a psychiatrist before?"
She shook her head. "No." .
"Do you understand the principles of psychotherapy?"
This time Alice nodded. "Sure," she said. "I know lots of people who go to wig-pickers, and they tell me what it's like. You just lie on a couch and talk and talk and talk."
"That's part of therapy," Parker said, agreeing with her. "That's part of it. And when you do talk, it's very important for you to say whatever comes into your head. No matter how shameful it might seem to you, you must say it. And you must say it in your own words. Some people, you know, try to ... well, to phrase things, shall we say, so as not to offend the therapist. For example, they .might say 'sexual intercourse' or 'sexual relations' when the word they really want to use is 'fuck'." He looked up to see if he had shocked the girl and was pleased to see that he hadn't. She was less inhibited than he had feared and that, he thought, was a good sign. A very good sign indeed. She would be more amenable to therapy under the circumstances.
His mind roved back to some of his other "patients" - those who had been reluctant to submit to him at first. There had been some who actually fought off his advances, scratching and kicking at him the moment he trailed his hand over their curvaceous flesh, slipping his fingers inside their dresses to caress and stroke their ripe breasts, or up under their dresses to crawl teasingly along the smooth skin of their inner thighs. He had fucked them all eventually, of course, screwed them silly as he remembered with pleasure. But he had been forced to give many of them drugs first; a quick but-shrewd appraisal of Alice convinced him that that would hardly be necessary in her case.
He cleared his throat. "You understand?" he asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Now, Alice, I must test your reactions to various scenes before I can go ahead with your own treatment."
She nodded. She had read in a psychology book about the tests many psychologists performed, showing patients ink blobs on a piece of paper and asking them to tell the doctor what they were reminded of. "You mean a Rorschach test?" she asked brightly.
Parker shook his head. "Not quite," he said. "But you're pretty close. Now I want you to sit here, Alice, while I prepare the tests. It will only take me a few minutes. You just sit down and make yourself comfortable until I get back."
He went out, closing the door behind him while Alice settled herself in the chair. She waited patiently for a few moments, and then her eyes strayed to the desk and to a large book lying on it. Curious, she picked it up and opened it. And then she sucked in her breath! Oh, dear God! The book was filled with photographs -photographs of men and women making- love! She had never seen such a thing before, and the very idea sent little shivers of wicked excitement coursing through her body.
She glanced at the door, afraid of being caught - how soon would Dr. Parker be back? Should she put the book down, pretending she hadn't noticed it? - but her curiosity got the better of her, and she stared shamelessly at the page in front of her. On it she saw a woman's face, her mouth strained in a tight circle around a man's hardened penis. She seemed to be sucking on it and, as the idea registered on her brain, Alice gasped. She had never really believed people did this, and yet she had heard some of the girls joking about it in the toilet at school. And now she was seeing it! Oh, dear God!
Once again a little thrill of excitement surged through her body as she saw how wide the woman's mouth was stretched and wondered how she kept from choking on the enormous shaft. It was huge, and her lips were locked on it as though they would never let go. A ripple of aroused pleasure coursed through the young girl as she pondered its size. It was much bigger than Pete's, even, and Alice clasped her legs tight together as she wondered what it would be like to have something that big shoved up between her thighs.
She flipped guiltily to the next page and stared in shocked surprise as the picture proved, to be the opposite of that she had just seen. The same woman was sitting on a couch with her feet flat on the floor and her legs spread wide apart. A man was kneeling between her thighs, and Alice could see clearly his tongue curling into the spread lips of her open vagina.
The young blonde's mouth gaped at the obscene sight. She had also heard about men doing this to women but had never thought the sight of such a depraved act could arouse her against her will, as this photograph was doing,. She could feel a slight moistness between her tightly pressed thighs, and she involuntarily moved her buttocks against the seat to quiet the lascivious tingle.
She heard a sound outside and gave a start of fear, terrified to be caught looking at the book.
She closed it quickly and put it back on the desk, then sat waiting for Dr. Parker. But the door remained closed and she picked up the book again. This time she opened it to a photograph of a girl on a bed with her legs wide apart and a man between them, his enormous cock sunk all the way up between her uplifted legs. The camera angle showed clearly his hard thick member disappearing into the soft, hair-fringed folds of her vagina. It was almost to the hilt; only, a tiny stretch of it was left showing, wet and glistening. The girl's face was contorted into the most depraved ecstasy Alice had ever seen.
The excited fifteen year old had never come across such a picture before and she wondered if this was the way she and Pete looked when they made love. The thought made her squirm slightly and press her thighs more firmly together to hold down the fire mounting deep in her loins.
The aching hunger inside her was beginning to grow and spread upward from her stomach to the tingling nipples of her hardening breasts. She could feel her breath coming in short labored gasps now and she twisted again down into the seat in an attempt to extinguish the fire that again grew mercilessly between her legs.
Once again a sudden noise distracted her and she closed the book, dropping it on the desk as she turned in the direction from which the sound had come. At first she saw nothing but the large mirror at the end of the room. Gradually, though, it seemed to light up, becoming opaque and showing shadowy figures on the other side. Alice stared in disbelief, then got up and walked over to examine the mirror more closely. She saw then that it was a window, through which she could see clearly, that opened into the next room.
The figures seemed to come closer and closer, and now she made out a couple stretched out on a large double bed. And ... oh, dear God! It was a man and a woman and the two of them were completely naked. Her heart skipped a beat! Why, she could almost reach out and touch the woman lying spread-eagled on the bed!
The man kneeling above her was running his lips and tongue moistly up and down her body. He had sucked her heaving breasts into a quivering hardness, and then he traced a wet hot path down the flat plane of her stomach and on to her inner thighs, while she writhed beneath his flicking caresses like a woman possessed.
He had worked her up to a fever pitch and her mouth hung open wide in ecstatic rapture while her glassy, lust-smoked eyes stared up into nothingness. Now the man placed himself in position over her rapidly rising and falling belly, his face hanging within inches of the hair-covered pubic mound below. His hands were pressed down on the smooth flat plane of her stomach and his thumbs lay pressed into the fleshy outer flanges other cuntlips. Alice sucked in her breath with a loud gasp as his thumbs massaged for a moment and then pulled slowly outward, parting the soft pubic hair and exposing the moist red slit of her vagina. The dainty bud of her clitoris was clearly visible, throbbing into hardness just above the stretched elastic opening of her cuntal entrance.
The man's head dropped, his long wet tongue snaking out to flick teasingly at the quivering little nub of raw nerves at the top of the slit. The woman's body jerked as the electric contact was made and her legs, clamped tightly together around his head, the soft inner thighs imprisoning his ears in a vise-like grip. Her hips began a slow up and down movement in rhythm to the probings of his slavering tongue. Soft mewls of animal pleasure came from between her clenched teeth as she was caught up in a mindless fit of uncontrolled lust, her upper torso writhing spasmodically against the mattress.
Alice's body ached and tingled in response to the lewd scene she was witnessing. Moisture seeped slowly from her tensed cuntal passage, creeping down her firm young thighs. They were tightly clamped together, pressuring the small tufted "vee" between her legs so that the tiny bud of her clitoris was rubbed up against the soft moist pillows of pussy flesh that surrounded it. The excited teenager felt the blood draining from her head and swirling downward as her own iewd desires built within her. Oh God! She .ouldn't stand much more of this, she thought dizzily. Before she even realized it, her hand had slipped up beneath her skirt, and along her thighs, then under the elastic leg band of her white nylon panties. And then her fingers were touching her own moist cleft, parting the pale gold pubic hairs and grazing teasingly inside the quivering outer lips. An electric shock ran through her and she shook her head, "Oh no!" she thought. "What am I doing? What am I doing?" She felt a moment's panic once more at the sudden realization that Dr. Parker might come in and catch her as she stroked and caressed her own pussy.
But she couldn't stop now. Her entire body was in the grip of the wild desire that had been awakened by the obscene coupling of the pair in the room beyond. Lewd sounds now reached her ears, and with each grunt of the man's voice, her hands moved swiftly among the hotly palpitating folds of her burning cuntal lips. Oh God! It felt good! It felt so good!
She rubbed slowly at the tormented little patch of her femaleness between her now widespread legs, while thrills raced up and down her body. Her breasts were tensed and aching, the nipples taut against the lacy fabric of the little brassiere she wore. The moisture of her secret flesh rolled beneath the fingers of her still rubbing hand - the tiny red bud of her clitoris was now enlarged beneath her frantic manipulations and stuck up from the silky folds of her blonde triangle like a little mountain of pure joy nestled cozily there. And then she parted the pink, wetly glistening edges and an exploratory finger wormed slowly up into her throbbing cuntal passage. She slipped another finger into the hotly burning cavern, then a third, and the moist, tender flesh up between her legs closed greedily around them, sucking and swallowing them eagerly up inside. She was totally lost, sunk in a abyss of delight.
And then she sensed someone standing behind her! At almost the same time she heard Dr. Parker asking, "Iss good, yah?"
The startled young blonde stopped her shameless abuse of her own body, but before she could whirl around, before she could think, she felt the supple firmness of the doctor's body pressed into her back. His arms slipped around her and he began to massage and cup her ripe young breasts in a teasing circular motion that caused her to squirm her buttocks back hard against his loins. She could feel a stiffness growing there under his pants and, when he pressed forward, she could feel the full thickness of it pressing against her dress into the crevice of her buttocks. The thin folds of bunched material grated against her tiny sensitive anus, sending small warning spasms of pleasure rippling through her belly and up to the rising nipples of her breasts.
And then she felt a hand leave her breast and gently lower the zipper that ran down the back of her dress to her upper buttocks. His hands slipped into the opening between the parted material from behind, curling around her bare mid-section and rising to push the tight restricting brassiere up and away from her swollen ripe breasts. His hands cupped the youthfully resilient mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened sensitive nipples between thumb and forefinger, squeezing until a tiny excruciating sensation brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from her open lips. He pushed forward with his pelvis, sinking his covered hardness deeper into the split of her involuntarily contracting buttocks.
She gasped, then jerked, as one of Parker's hands left her breast to trail a slow teasing path down her soft belly and insert itself into the elastic waistband of her panties, teasing thrillingly at the sparse patch of pubic hair. Alice jerked forward slightly as the hand curled farther down to snake its teasing way up inside the tight little opening of her cunt, sending wild shocks of pleasure stabbing hotly through her. The rigid thickness of his pants-covered cock was now pressed deep in the perspiration-moistened crevice of her buttocks and throbbing as if it had a life of its own. She ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between its pulsing hardness and the thrusting finger skewering deep into her vagina. And then he began a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded.
Through the glass she saw the man in the room beyond slither up along the woman's naked body until he was poised above her lips. The lewdly incited young blonde gasped as she saw his thick cock slide deep up into her open mouth, while she felt Parker's cock jerking under his pants against her in uncontrolled excitement. He leaned forward slightly, pressing his moist lips against her ear and whispering, "Bend downward --I want to fuck you from behind!"
"Oh, my God!" Alice gasped. Her body seemed to be consumed by fire now and she longed to take his hard grown-up penis deep inside her. But the suddenness of his approach, the surprise she had felt, held her back. "Oh, my God!" she said again. He couldn't, she thought. She couldn't let him!
"Yes," he soothed. "Yes. It's all right. This is good for you, Alice. Don't forget that. It's going to help you free yourself of all those inhibitions which make a slave of you."
"No!" she said again. "Oh, God, no!"
"I'm your doctor, Alice. You must do what I say. I know what is best for you. I, Dr. John Parker, know what you must do."
The scene in the next room, where the young man labored above the woman, his lust-bloated penis spearing far up into her mouth, withdrawing then spearing in again, excited Alice beyond endurance, and she groaned in surrender as Parker lifted her dress above her hips to bunch it around her waist, and then drew her flimsy white panties down over the firmly rounded cheeks of her buttocks. A cool rush of air hit her ripe half-moons and then she heard the metallic sound of a zipper, as her analyst opened his fly and liberated his rigidly thick cock. A moment later he had dropped to his knees to lick moistly down the entire length of the perspiring crevice of her buttocks, then stopped abruptly to flick the tip of his tongue into the tightly puckered ring of her anus.
She groaned again as the tantalizing licking roused new and more thrilling sensations, teasing insanely at her. She quivered back against the probing tongue, screwing her buttocks in helpless circles around and around in response to the incredibly exciting rape of her helpless loins. There was nothing in the world like this feeling that seemed to consume the whole of her being. As she reveled in wild abandon against the tongue obscenely lashing at her rectal orifice from behind, she thought that her entire body was going to explode from the lewd tingling joy.
Abruptly it stopped, and Dr. Parker stood to press the obscenely swollen head of his penis into the split between her widespread buttocks. And then Alice screamed. "Oh, God! Oh dear God!" He was too big, she thought with a sudden panic. He would split her open!
Her ass-cheeks involuntarily cringed forward, drawing away from the rubbery-tipped cock pressing into her from behind, but it followed, and she realized that she was trapped between the mirror on the wall and the self-proclaimed doctor behind her. She felt his hands close around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, his fingers digging harshly into her supple white flesh. "I'm going to put it in," he whispered evilly, and then she felt the blunt throbbing head against the tight elastic opening of her vagina, felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the wetly pouting lips, parting them and forcing its way inside the resisting ring of flesh that jealousy guarded the entrance to her secret passage. Then suddenly she felt her thighs swept apart as Parker's thick pulsing cock slithered deep into the hotly quivering cuntal channel.
Alice gasped as the rampaging penis penetrating her now burning vagina tunneled deep into her belly. She struggled in vain to escape the cruel impalement,, but Parker had skewered into her all the way up to the hilt. Her cunt walls were afire now and she moaned incoherently, as he began to saw in and out.
He rocked rhythmically now, panting with his own excitement as he thrust back and forth in her moistly clasping vagina.-The pain she had felt at first gradually eased and she felt a strange and thrilling pleasure ripple through her as she began to move her buttocks lasciviously in circles in rhythm to the hard swollen cock fucking into her from behind.
Oh God! the helpless teenager thought. This was good... . it was great... it was groovy!
Parker stood over her bent body now, gritting his teeth as he rammed in and out with long hard lunges. Jesus! The kid was great! She was taking it all, and screwing back against him, practically begging for more! And Jesus! He was ready to give it to her. His balls ached and burned and he was sure they would explode any minute, shooting his white-hot sperm deep into her velvety little vagina.
He stretched the quivering moons of her buttocks wide with his fingers, watching the pink folds of wetly glistening fiesh clinging tightly around his pistoning rod.
A wave of wild and abandoned passion spread through Alice's lithe young body as Parker continued to vent his lust in her delightedly clasping cunt. Nothing mattered to her now but the obscene pleasure coursing through her like a fire out of control. Oh my God! She wanted this ... she wanted this! She felt like a slave, bending before him in humiliating shame, and yet she wanted it! She wanted to be subjected to every lewd demand he could make!
And then, briefly, the incredible excitement stopped as Parker ceased his relentless thrusting into her narrow little passage and quickly and expertly ripped her panties completely off, pulled her dress Up and over her head, flinging it hastily to the floor. Her little, brassiere came " next and then she half-stood, half-knelt before this lust-crazed creature who still stood behind her with his thick cock buried deep in her vagina.
Her young . seething body twitched and writhed as she groaned in abandoned welcome to the thrillingly punishing instrument sinking deep into her cunt. Her face contorted with passion, and now cries of ecstasy escaped her tightly-clenched teeth. Sweat was pouring from her body as she began, to strive frantically for the end. And then Pa'rker uttered a long low moan that swelled to a shout as he began, spewing his hot sperm wildly up into her wet slippery vagina.
She moved desperately against him, grinding her buttocks back against his loins, and then she felt her own climax begin. "Oh my God!" she screamed. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming,. ... !" Small gushes of her- orgiastic fluid seeped out hotly around the edges of his thrusting penis in spite of the tightness of her cunt's grip on it, and ran in glistening streams . down the wide-stretched crevice other buttocks. The tiny, puckered anus clenched and unclenched below in the moistness of the crack in tempo with the groans of her expending passion. And then at last her firm young body was drained of everything; as Parker groaned and withdrew his now deflated penis, she slipped forward to lie, spent and exhausted, on the floor in front of him.
Dr. Parker groaned once more, watching the fifteen year old girl with complete approval through his half-closed eyeslids. Oh, Jesus' What a patient she had turned out to be! He couldn't remember a better one along all those who had come to Miramar!
CHAPTER FIVE
Donna Barton, clutched her purse nervously as she walked up the path to the small clinic. There had been no news from Alice since she had arrived at Miramar, and no news of her. She had expected that, but was amazed at her own anxiety as she approached the building. She wished her husband hadn't had to make that business trip and could have come with her today. Oh, surely they had done the right thing in sending the girl here. She and Brad had simply 4]een unable to cope with her at home. They had admitted that to themselves, although it had been almost unbearably difficult to do so. And now Alice was getting the proper treatment, the treatment she required. It would be all right, the young mother told herself. Of course it would.
She knocked and entered the small office where Dr. Parker's secretary sat behind a desk. The young woman looked up and greeted Donna pleasantly. "You've come to see your daughter?" she asked.
"Yes," Donna said. "You said that Wednesday was visiting day,"
"Oh, yes," Miss Allison said, nodding. "But I'm afraid you're a little bit early. I think that Alice may be having one of her therapeutic sessions right now. Will you just sit here until it's over?"
"I ... I . ... " Donna began hesitantly.
"Yes?" Miss Allison had inserted a sheet of paper into her typewriter and begun to tap at the machine. "Yes?" she repeated, stopping and looking up again.
"Perhaps I could see Dr. Parker while I'm waiting," she suggested.
"Oh? Oh, yes. I'll see if Dr. Parker is with a patient." She picked up the telephone and called his office. When he answered, she said, "Mrs. Barton is here in the office, Dr. Parker. Yes, that's right. Little Alice's mother. Yes." She paused and listened. "She's a little early ... yes, she's come to visit Alice ... and she wondered if she might speak to you." She listened again. "Yes, that's right. Yes, now."
She looked up, nodding at Donna. "Yes," she said. ''I'll send her right in." She cradled the phone. "Dr. Parker will see you now," she said. "Will you just follow me, please?"
She got up and led Donna down the hall to Dr. Parker's office, knocked lightly, then opened the door. As Donna entered, she closed it behind her.
Parker had stood behind his desk and now he came forward to take Donna's hand.'"My dear Mrs. Barton," he said. "I'm glad - really glad - that you've come to see me." He smiled and nodded toward a chair. Donna sat down, drawing it up close to the desk while Parker settled back in his own chair.
He picked up a pencil and tapped it against the desk top. "Well," he said, "I have some very good news for you. Very good indeed."
Donna heaved a small sigh of relief and smiled happily. "Oh, I'm so glad," she said.
"Yes, I thought you would be," Parker agreed, tapping with the pencil as he continued. "Yes, I must say that I don't think I've ever had anyone quite so ... so receptive to treatment as your daughter!"
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Donna exclaimed. "Just wonderful!" She pulled off her gloves, crumpling them. "And do you have any idea ... can you suggest, perhaps ... how long Alice will have to stay here? I mean, if she's responding so beautifully she ought, to be able to go home soon, shouldn't she?"
"Oh, not too soon, Mrs. Barton. Not too soon. It's" true that Alice is responding marvelously, but you must realize she was a very disturbed little girl. It will still be some time -quite some time - before she is ready to leave."
"And the treatment? That will continue,' of course?" Donna asked.
"Oh, yes! Yes, indeed. In fact, I'm thinking of adding several sessions to the schedule she already has. And I want you to know, Mrs. Barton, that I intend to treat her myself."
"You do?"
"Yes, I do. I have taken a great interest in your daughter and feel that I should be personally responsible for her therapy."
"That's very good of you, Dr. Parker" . . Donna began.
"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Barton," Parker said, an evil little smile twitching his lips.
"My husband will be so pleased ..." the relieved mother began. But suddenly a slight noise distracted her and she turned toward the two-way mirror on the wall, the one through which Alice had watched the obscenely copulating couple only a few days earlier. Just as it had then, the mirror became opaque-at first and then Donna saw dim shadows behind it.
As it became transparent and the shadows became recognizable human bodies, Donna gasped! Oh, dear God! There was a naked man in that room! And a naked woman, too!
She gasped again, stuttering in confusion. "Wh ... what is that, Dr. Parker?"
Goddamn, he thought. Who the hell flipped the switch at a moment like this? But he struggled to regain his composure and, when he spoke again, his voice was cool and calm. "What is what, Mrs. Barton?" he asked.
"There. Over there on the wall," she said. "That mirror."
Again he cursed the person responsible for lighting up the "treatment" room. But there was nothing to do now but make the best of it. And that meant brazenly admitting just what went on at Miramar. Okay, he thought. Here goes!
"Oh, the mirror," he said. "Very clever, isn't it?"
"Clever!" Donna half-shrieked. "Clever! My God! It's ... it's outrageous, that's what it is."
"Why not at all, Mrs. Barton. It's merely a two-way mirror through which I can watch the progress of certain therapeutic sessions."
Donna's face went white and she felt dizzy. Oh, dear God! Surely she hadn't heard correctly. Surely she was mistaken in what she thought Dr. Parker had said. She struggled to regain control of her trembling body, struggled to find her voice, to ask for - no, to demand - an explanation. But when she spoke, her voice quavered pathetically. "Therapeutic sessions?" she asked weakly.
"Why, yes. Therapeutic sessions," Parker said.
"But ... but... but those people are completely naked," Donna said in a small voice. "My God! They're completely naked!" Her voice rose hysterically. "They're naked," she repeated. "Naked!"
Parker turned around to glance at the mirror himself. "So they are," he said quietly. "So they are."
"But ... but ..." Donna was spluttering helplessly now. What on earth was the matter with this man? Why didn't he do something? These people ... these poor sick wretches who were in his care ... had stripped off their clothes and were naked. And they were doing terrible things, too. Wicked, terrible, evil things!
She stared, speechless with horror now, as the man's hands roamed lewdly over the woman's naked writhing form, trailing the length of her torso, stroking sensuously at her hips and thighs. A shudder ran through Donna and she closed her eyes for a moment against the obscene spectacle. When she reopened them, she saw that the man had cupped the round full spheres of the woman's breasts in his hands and was massaging them, his fingers teasing at the small brown nipples, coaxing them into taut erection.
She shook her head, which seemed to be swimming now, wondering how on earth Parker could let such a wicked act continue.
"But what?" he asked her, staring calmly into her terror-stricken eyes. "But what?"
"Why don't you stop them?" she managed to ask at last, her , voice trembling so that it sounded strange to her own ears. "Why don't you stop them?"
"But why should I?" he asked. "They are expressing themselves in a perfectly normal way, are they not?"
"No!" Donna screamed. "No! They are not! They're disgusting, that's what they are. Disgusting!"
"My dear," Parker said, reaching out and taking her hand. "I think you are over-reacting. Copulation ... or as we prefer to call it here ... fucking ... is the most normal of human acts."
"You mean you don't stop these people when they do ... do ... " Donna searched for a word, refusing to descend to the analyst's level by uttering the foul four-letter word he had used. "You mean you don't stop them from doing what they're doing?"
"Not at all. As a matter of fact, we encourage it. It's the best way we know of to rid these unfortunate people of their inhibitions."
Donna noticed with a shock that Parker was holding her hand. With a brusque gesture she withdrew it. Oh, dear God! This was disgraceful, utterly disgraceful! She had to get out of here!
She thought suddenly of Alice. Surely ... oh, surely ... Parker had never subjected her young daughter to such treatment. She shook her head, trying to convince herself that she was right. But the image of the innocent teenager being violated in this shocking way refused to leave her. She closed her eyes as she felt the tears well up in them, trying desperately to hold them back. But they spilled down her cheeks in spite of all her efforts, and she sobbed openly as she asked, "And Alice? Have you done this to Alice, too?"
"Alice has undergone our standard form of therapy," Parker answered coolly. "You understood the procedure of course, when you brought her here, didn't you?"
Donna sat up stiffly, her anger giving her the courage to speak. "Then the answer is 'yes'," she said bitterly.
Parker, cool and composed as ever, answered her briefly. "The answer is 'yes'."
The words struck Donna like a blow across the face. She stared dumbfounded at the analyst for a long time, hearing his words over and over. Then suddenly she started to scream. "Oh, God! Dear God! No! You can't do that to her! You can't have! I won't let you! No, and Brad won't either. Oh, my God, he'll kill you when he finds out. He'll kill you!"
Parker reached across the desk to take her hand again, to stroke it soothingly. "Please, Mrs. Barton," he said. "You're hysterical. You must stop this self-indulgent performance of yours, and act like a mature and reasonable woman."
"Hysterical! You call me hysterical!" Donna screamed. "Well, I'm not. I'm not. But you know what you are?" Her eyes blazed in fury as she faced him across the desk,. "Do you know what you are, Dr. John Parker? You're an animal, that's what you are. An animal!"
"Mrs. Barton, I must ask you to try to control yourself. I simply cannot tolerate this sort of behavior in my-office!"
"Oh, you can't, can't you?" she shrieked, her voice high and piercing. "Oh, you can't!"
"No, I can't. And if you don't get hold of yourself I shall be forced to give you a sedative."
"You and who else?" Donna spat at him viciously. "You and who else?"
"Several of my colleagues," he answered calmly. "They will help me."
"You're not going to do one thing to me," Donna screamed frantically.. "Not one single solitary thing."
But Parker had reached beneath the desk to push a button and, a moment later, the door opened and two burly young men in white jackets entered the. room. "You called us, Doctor?" one of them asked. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"I'm afraid Mrs/Barton is hysterical," he said, his lips twitching with the slightest sign of contempt. "I'm afraid it will be-necessary to give her a sedative, to calm her. Would you help her over to the couch, Dr. Wfotman, while I prepare a hypodermic? And you, Dr. Bistry, I'm afraid Dr. Wotman will need your help too."
Donna screamed again as the two men approached and seized her, pinning her arms behind her back. She struggled desperately but uselessly to escape them and then felt herself being dragged across the room and forced face down onto the couch. She kicked furiously at her captors and heard one of them scream "Ouch! Goddamn you anyway!" and it gave her a fleeting moment of pleasure. But an instant later her ankles were firmly grasped by two strong hands, the steel-like fingers biting cruelly into her sensitive flesh, while another pair of hands pressed her shoulders into the couch.
She writhed frantically, unable to escape. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dr. Parker filling the hypodermic from a small vial and she sobbed hopelessly at the thought of the pure evil she had encountered here.
Parker approached then, lifting her skirt up to : her waist and then slipping his strong fingers beneath the waistband of her thin nylon panties. One of the other doctors sucked in his breath and then asked lewdly, "Gee, John, you going to give it to her in the ass?"
"You're damned right," Parker said. "It will work faster this way. Besides, it will teach her a lesson."
Donna had stopped crying now, bracing herself for the humiliation of what Parker would yet do. She felt him draw her panties down, exposing the two half-moons of her quivering buttocks to the lust-filled eyes of the white-coated trio. Her shame was almost too much to bear as the cool air brushed across her trembling ass-cheeks. Oh, God! Oh, dear God! She wished suddenly that she were dead. Even that was better than submitting to this complete and utter degradation.
She began to whimper pitifully and then she felt the sharp stab of the needle as Parker jabbed it into her flesh. She let out a tiny scream of pain that trailed off into a shuddering sob. And then she felt the pain gradually subside, to be replaced by a numbing sensation that spread from the small sensitive spot of flesh on her buttocks until it seemed to reach the very center of her being.
She felt an overwhelming peace then, felt a lifting of the terrible cares that burdened -her, felt the horror vanish. She shut her eyes, drifting toward sleep. She was dimly aware that the door had opened and closed, that the men who ^ad come in a short time before and had seized her so brutally were leaving. She wondered if Dr. Parker had gone, too. For an instant she was sure that he had, and told herself that she must rouse herself and take this chance to escape. But she lacked the will, lacked the energy. - She closed her eyes sleepily while the world seemed to whirl around her, closing in gently to cradle her in the sweet bliss of forgetfulness.
She felt something soft against her skin, felt someone fumbling with her clothes. She wondered who it was and what he was doing. But she had no strength to ask, let alone protest. It dawned on her that the person - whoever if might be - was pulling down the zipper -on her dress, was easing her out of it. She felt the soft cool air again as it brushed across her bare back and knew somehow that her dress had been pulled down to her waist and was bunched beneath her. She remembered the humiliating moment when her skirt had been pulled up and now she twisted slightly, groping behind her, touching her buttocks with her own hands -and realizing, with another mo'ivnt of terrible degradation - that they were still bare.
The drugged housewife tried to pull her dress-skirt down over her quivering ass-cheeks, succeeded momentarily, and then felt it -raised again. Once more she made the effort; once again she failed. And then she opened her eyes a little wider and strained her neck around to see that Dr. Parker was standing over her.
His hands slid down over her hips now, and then she knew that he was pulling her dress right off, just as he had pulled the top down. "Lift up," he whispered hoarsely and she did as she was told, too dazed to do more than protest feebly and futilely.
She felt his hands against her sensitive flesh as he pulled her little white panties down over her slim legs, over her ankles, lifting her feet to slip them off. She twisted and turned, trying to protect herself, but in spite of all her maneuvers, she could do nothing to stop him.
She felt a moment's anguish, a moments deep shame and humiliation at submitting to him this way, and then she felt a little thrill of excitement shoot through her. It was wrong, she knew. It was wicked and evil and there was something depraved about her if she could feel this way. But she couldn't help'herself! She just couldn't help herself.
She felt Parker's hands on her again and somehow knew that she was lying naked now while he stared at her. It bothered her enormously - it was wicked, she told herself again - and yet it pleased her. And in any case, she was too tired to resist. She lay serenely on on the couch, not moving. And then she felt herself lifted slightly again, but this time turned over onto her back.
She opened her eyes and saw Dr. Parker bending down over her. "Ah, so now you are calm again?" he asked.
It seemed a foolish question, but Donna tried to answer it. "Yes," she said. "I guess I am." She looked up into his face and a shudder went through her at the evil leer she saw contorting his features. Oh, dear God! How had she come to be trapped here like this, at the mercy of this fiend!
She realized suddenly that Parker, standing by the bed, was stripping off his own clothes. His white jacket came first ... that symbol of his profession of medicine ... and she noticed that he carried it across the room and hung it on a hook on the wall there. She thought for a moment of trying to escape -- it should be easy with him several yards away - but once again she found that she had no energy even to lift herself from . the bed. And then the terrible thought struck her that she really didn't want to escape! She wanted him to ... to fuck her ... oh, dear God! She couldn't even admit to herself what she wanted him to do. But the almost hidden thought of having him run his hands over her naked body again, over her proudly upthrust breasts, over her flat white belly, excited her insanely. What on earth had happened? She had never, never felt the insatiable desire that now suffused her entire being. And then the truth struck her! He had said it was to calm her, and it had actually done that. But it had excited her, too, in a way she had never been excited before. She felt that her body was alive for the first time in her life, alive and burning with a fire that could only be extinguished by her own lewd and wanton submission to this man now approaching her.
She gasped at the sight of him. He was as naked as she was, and his iron-hard cock stood out in front of him like a steel javelin. Oh, dear God! In a moment now he would be slithering it deep up into her hotly waiting vaginal passage. And.there was nothing whatsoever that she could or wanted to do to prevent it.
He leaned down over her naked body, one hand moving from her throat slowly down to her creamy-white breasts, tweaking the nipples hardly between his fingers until he felt them harden. The blood began to stir in' Donna's body. She was helpless now, so weakened by the drug Parker had administered that she was powerless to resist him. But she was aroused by it, too, so that now she welcomed every lewd advance he might make, while her body ached to be touched gently, so that it quivered .with the need for the fulfillment he could give her.
The lovely blonde mother opened her eyes wider to see her daughter's analyst steadily stroking his rigidly throbbing penis. God! It, was huge! At the same time, he let his other hand roam down from her white trembling breast to trail across her belly until it reached at last the soft fleshy folds of her now-inflamed cunt. As his hand stroked her body into a flaming sheet of desire, she began to writhe wantonly beneath him. "Oh,-God!" she moaned. "Oh, dear God!" Parker moved over her now, positioning himself above her lovely body, kneeling while he pushed her unresisting thighs apart. He lowered his head slowly, and then his hot lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her belly. His face disappeared as he planted wet tickling kisses on the tiny aperture there, his tongue flicking lizard-like at the quivering opening.
She groaned now, groaned huskily from deep in her throat as Parker's tongue continued its maddening licking against the straining pink bud of her clitoris. And then he' pulled himself forward and slithered up her gently writhing body until his face was over hers. His head leaned forward and his tongue edged its way between her two trembling, half-parted lips, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm oral cavern.
: And then Donna felt the lips around her throbbing vagina pushed open as Parker thrust forward, forcing his lust-inflated cock up into the narrow velvety passage. He watched her now with a lascivious grin on his face as her face contorted with the pain of his first vicious stab and her lips curled back while she whimpered helplessly. His fleshy rod was buried deep in the pink throbbing furrow that his tongue had licked to a moist receptiveness a moment ago, and now the tight cuntal lips were stretched almost to the bursting point, their rubbery pink outer rim clasped securely around the base of his impaling cock.
Donna squirmed helplessly beneath him as he plowed deeper and deeper into her vainly resisting vaginal passage. The walls of her cringing cunt clasped around the skewering cock-shaft like a glove until she felt every fleshy ridge. As he began a slow rhythmic probing, her head rolled from side to side and her hips began a seductive involuntary grinding motion beneath his impaling rod.
Her body seemed to come to life now, as an electric tingle that began deep within her womb seeped relentlessly through the raw nerve ends of her flesh. She rotated her hips from side to side, her flesh one quaking mass of incredibly exciting sensation. She strained against him, her motions becoming faster by the second, the tempo of her thrusts more urgent.
The incredibly aroused blonde groaned as Parker withdrew his thick throbbing cock with a lewd sucking sound, and then - as suddenly as he had withdrawn - he thrust deep up inside her with all his strength. The full length of his rigid cock-shaft sank cruelly into her helpless defiled vagina, a wet flat smack sounding as his belly thudded against her own soft flesh.
The handsome analyst's body dropped down heavily on hers now, mashing her full ripe breasts against his chest. He locked his mouth over hers, sending his tongue deep up into her throat while she groaned in unwilling ecstasy. He reached beneath her then to the round full cheeks of her buttocks, spreading his fingers to knead the warmly yielding flesh and pull the taut half-moons apart.
He stared down at her lust-contorted face and a feeling of overwhelming, triumph swept through him. She was his, by God! He'd fucked the young girl and now he was fucking her mother too! Jesus! He'd never had it so good!
He threw his head back and a leering grin spread across his face. And then he began making long hard strokes into Donna's now wet and slippery passage, spearing in, then withdrawing the swollen relentless shaft of his penis until just the tip was inside her hotly clinging cunt. He thrust forward hard again with his hips until his balls were once more screwed tightly up into the wide-split crevice of her buttocks.
Donna groaned as her helplessly exposed cunt was plundered almost beyond endurance. Her body was pinned down and there was no way she could resist in the helpless position in which she found herself.
The drugged mother felt the bloated cock-shaft slide up and down inside her warm viscous passage like a tireless piston while his soft, hair-covered balls slapped hotly against her anus with each forward jerk of the downstroke. Her womb flared and the quivering lips of her hair-lined cuntal furrow flowered open to receive his iron-hard pummeling cock. She stretched her fingers out and her lust-guided nails clawed a red streak down across his flexing buttocks. She pulled him deep up into her now, thrusting her fleece-bordered belly up hard to skewer herself thrillingly on his driving flesh.
She began to writhe and twist ecstatically beneath him. The drug he had administered had left her void of all sense of right and wrong; she knew only that she had to have the maddening fucking sensation that coursed through her body. Nothing on earth could make her stop now. And oh, dear God! She was certain she would die unless Parker could fuck her crazy and satisfy her urgent need now.
He arched his back, withdrawing slightly, then plunging his cock deep up into her throbbing cunt with long cruel jabs. He could feel the hot sperm ready to explode now, and with harsh hands he gripped the wide-spread cheeks of her buttocks, lifting them up to push her loins incitingly against his grinding pelvis, then rammed his cock all the way to the hilt in her unresisting vagina.
The lust-driven Donna could feel her insides splitting painfully as the head of his deep-sunk penis seemed to flare into a hugeness that threatened to tear her womb asunder. And then she felt the white-hot liquid that spurted into her like burning fire, filling her dilated stomach like wild hot streams of molten lava. She felt her own cunt juices seep forth as if in answer and she screamed out her delirious joy: "I'm cumming! Oh, my God! I'm cumming... I'm cumming ... !"
Her body tensed and arched in the spasm of ecstasy sweeping through her, and there was a long moment when all was still, all was silent as their orgiastic juices pooled and mixed within her. And then the desperately clasping walls of her hotly jerking cunt sucked hungrily one last time at Parker's hotly ejaculating cock, until it gave one final spasmodic lurch - and stopped.
Parker collapsed across her body, feeling his seemingly endless sperm-load still gushing forth around his now deflating penis, and then he withdrew his cock slowly from Susan's battered cunt and smiled down at her.
He rolled over, sliding from her sweat-soaked body, and began to pull on his clothes. When he had finished dressing and had slipped his white jacket over his shoulders, he went out to the office of his secretary. "Miss Allison," he said.
"Yes, Dr. Parker."
"I'm afraid that Mrs. Barton is very disturbed. She was hysterical a few minutes ago, and I think it will be necessary to keep her here for a while. Will you see that a room is made ready for her?"
"Yes, Dr. Parker."
"Good. I'll help her upstairs myself."
"Help her?" Miss Allison asked.
"Yes," Parker said, staring coolly into the eyes of his secretary. "I will help her." He walked across the room to the desk and glanced at the calendar on it. "Mrs. Barton was very disturbed," he repeated. "It was necessary to give her a very strong sedative in order to calm her. She is still under the influence of it." He turned and smiled disarmingly at his secretary. "I'm sure she will be all- right - it's nothing serious, you know. But I insist that she be kept here at Miramar for a while." He smiled evilly. "She must have treatment, you know."
CHAPTER SIX
Donna sat and stared at the walls of her room. It was pleasant enough, she thought. And somehow that seemed ironical to her. She was a prisoner here in this house of hell, this asylum in which the doctors were far more mad than the patients. And there seemed no possible way for her to escape.
There was a knock on the door and a nurse entered, carrying a tray with Donna's lunch. The unwilling patient shook her head, indicating that the nurse should take it away. But the young woman only smiled and put it on the bedside table.
"I don't want anything," Donna protested weakly.
"You have to eat, Mrs. Barton. You need to keep your strength up."
"What for?" Her voice was sullen and weary, too. She dreaded the day that lay ahead of her, dreaded every moment that she must live in this terrible place. But she dared not protest. New horrors lay in store for her if she did that.
She noticed the little paper cup with three or four pills of different colors nestling within it. Oh, God, no! she thought. Oh God! No! They were surely more of the drugs she had been given constantly since she had arrived here - the sedatives which made her amenable to Parker's will, made her accept anything he cared to do to her without a murmur. She wouldn't take them, she decided. She wouldn 't take them!
But she looked up to see the nurse pouring them out into her hand, saw her approaching with a glass of water in the other. "Time for your pills, Mrs. Barton," she said pleasantly.
"No!" It was almost a scream.
"Yes," the. nurse said in a low calm voice. "Yes. Dr. Parker says you're to have them."
"No!"
"Yes, Mrs. Barton."
"I won't take them. You're not going to keep me drugged. You're not!"
"We are not keeping you drugged, Mrs. Barton. We are merely giving you the medication that Dr. Parker feels is necessary for you."
"Dr. Parker!" she shrieked. "What kind of a doctor is he, anyway? He's not one ... not a real one!" The explanation that he was only a lay analyst and not an M.D. suddenly dawned on her. He had no right to prescribe any medication! None at all! And here he was, practically forcing her to take all sorts of drugs. She threw her shoulders back and stood up, straight and proud. "I'm sorry," she said, "but Dr. Parker had no right to prescribe these pills for me. And I am not going to take them!"
She stared the nurse straight in the eye, pleased at her own courage. And then everything seemed to wilt as the nurse said. "Very well, Mrs. Barton. If you refused to swallow these pills, I'm afraid it will be necessary to give you the medication by injection. Would you rather that we do it that way?"
A shudder of horror shook Donna's body. All the obscenity of her experience with the two doctors a few days earlier came back to her -when they had thrown her down on the couch, pulled her dress up and her panties down, and shot the drugs into her naked buttocks, so painfully, with the use of a hypodermic needle. Oh, dear God! She had never been so ashamed, so humiliated in her life! And they would do just that to her again, she knew. She had no alternative. She would swallow the pills and then she would eat her lunch. And then ... ?
It was better not to think of what would happen later. She would concentrate on the moment, shutting out the future. And when later it was over she would shut that out, too. She took the pills from the nurse, slipped them hesitantly into her mouth and washed them down with the water. At least they would blot out reality and make this sexual horror bearable. She was grateful for that.
She saw the nurse watching her, hawk-like, edging closer. In a state of near panic she picked up her fork and began to feed herself. The broiled chicken was tasteless and the green peas might have been miniscule marbles. But she forced herself to swallow them, trying desperately not to choke. When her plate was cleared at last she pushed it back with a sigh of relief, only to have the nurse come forward with a bowl of custard. "And now let's have our lovely dessert," she simpered, making Donna feel slightly sick. But once again the patient-captive dared not resist, and she opened her mouth obediently to let the other woman spoon the bland pudding in as if she were a helpless invalid.
The drugs she had taken a little earlier were beginning to take effect and Donna felt her head grow light and spin slightly. She was glad of that, glad that things were at ieast made easier this way. She settled back in the chair, knowing what would follow, but accepting it now. She even felt a little chill of excitement chasing itself up and down her spine, felt a tiny tingle of pleasure quiver up between her tightly closed thighs.
She watched as the nurse picked up the tray and left the room. She could feel her anticipation mounting now, spreading through her body until she seemed to burn with desire. She shook her head, wondering what had come over her to turn her into this lewd and wanton creature. Was there some aphrodisiac -' Spanish fly, perhaps, or something similar? - in the drugs that Parker had forced upon her?
Oh, yes, that was it, she thought with a shudder. Her mind raced back to her husband, Brad. Oh, dear God! What if he knew how she had been fucked by other men - what she would yet do? Would he ever forgive her? And even so, had they convinced him she was crazy? Why didn't he come to rescue her from all this? A tear welled up in her eye and spilled down over her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. But another followed it and then still another, and soon she sat there, huddled in the chair, sobbing as if her heart would break.
The hot scalding tears were still flowing unchecked down her trembling cheeks as the door opened and one of the doctor's assistants, white-jacketed and serious, poked his head in the door. He clapped his hands together in an attitude of mock horror. "Oh, dear me!" he said. "What on earth is the matter?"
"Nothing," Donna sobbed. "Nothing at all!" Once again she tried to wipe away the tears, then picked up her handkerchief and blew her nose furiously.
"There must be something," he said coldly. "Oh, no!" Donna denied any such thing. She had a terrible premonition of what would happen if Dr. Parker were to find out she had broken down and cried. "I'm all right," she said, trying desperately to smile. "Yuusure?"
She nodded, still trying to smile. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure."
"You know, if you're not, I'll have to call Dr. Parker!"
A shudder of panic shot through her tensely stiffened body. "Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Please don't!"
The young man stared at her with lust-filled eyes. "I'm supposed to report everything I see," he said. "I'm supposed to report this, you know."
"Oh, please! Please!" Donna begged. I'll do anything .'. . " her mind reeled at the thought of what Parker would do if he learned that she had lost her self-control yet another time.
"Okay," the young man said. "I won't report it this time. But it had better not happen again."
"Okay then." He stood watching her, a lewd expression on his face. Jesus! The boss sure knew how to pick 'em! He continued to stare shamelessly at her voluptuously rounded hips, her flat smooth stomach and firm thighs, at the breathtaking curve of her calves that tapered down to thin, well-formed ankles. Jesus! He licked his lips lasciviously.
Donna uttered a little moan at the man's lecherous expression. Oh, God! He was as bad as the others - as bad as Parker himself. Even though she was fully clothed, she somehow felt naked in front of him - naked and ashamed. She put her hand to her forehead, brushing back her hair in a little gesture of despair. And then she sighed. "What do you want?" she asked, adding to herself as if I didn 't know.
"What I want doesn't have much to do with it, Mrs. Barton," the young doctor said with a wink that implied he was ready and willing to subject her to even more humiliating experiences than Parker had. Donna could only sigh with relief and thank her lucky stars for that. And then she realized that he was waiting for her to go with him. With another deep sigh she rose and followed him out the door and downstairs to the room that adjoined Dr. Parker's office.
She looked around, expecting to see him. But instead she saw several of the other patients sitting on the chairs or wandering around the room. She recognized one as Paul Sander, whom she had already met in one of her occupational therapy classes. She had been weaving baskets -it had seemed to her the easiest thing to do -while he had been making pottery. He had seemed like a nice enough young man then and she had wondered what he was doing in a place like this. But she realized that he was probably wondering the same thing about her.
She crossed the room to where he was standing to greet him. "Hello, Paul," she said. He turned to her. "Hello, Mrs. Barton." "Donna," she said. "Call me Donna." "I'd be happy to," he said. He eyed her closely and for some strange reason it excited her. The drugs were taking their effect and in spite of herself she felt a sudden blaze of fire within her body. Her loins seemed suddenly to burn, and she longed to press them tightly up against Sander s pelvis.
She stepped forward, her quivering body further inflamed by the nearness of Paul. It was incredible, she thought. An hour before, he had been nothing to her. And now. . .now ... he was the most desirable of men.
Her eyes met an answering flash in Paul's dark gray ones, her drug-induced desire triggering a responding need in his equally aroused body. Abruptly he grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging brutally into her milk-white flesh and sending new ripples of excitement coursing through her body. He pulled her close, grinding his pelvis up against her loins. She felt his bulging penis lurch in his excitement, growing bigger as it pressed hard against her throbbing flesh, causing an excruciating pleasure-pain sensation.
Oblivious to the other patients around her, she closed her eyes, overcome by the joy of the moment. And then he slid his fingers into the cleavage of her dress, elicting a thrilled gasp from her throat. She held her breath as he teasingly caressed first one whitely upthrust breast and then the other, cupping and kneading them, rolling the twin buds of her little nipples between his fingertips until they hardened into taut erection.
"Take this off," he whispered hoarsely to her, pulling at her dress now. His arms snaked around her to fumble clumsily with the zipper at the back, pulling it down at last. A cool breath of air blew across Donna's trembling body as Paul repeated, "Take this off!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind Donna knew that a half-dozen pairs of eyes were upon her, excitedly taking in every move, every gesture that she made. Somewhere a little voice of conscience, almost stilled by now, warned her to turn and run, warned her to escape the obscene ravishment of her body that was in store. And yet she was powerless to obey the command. A tingling had begun up between her legs and now it seemed to increase, to spread through her body until she ached to be possessed in the most lewd way possible. She wanted the humiliation of being publicly fucked - yes, publicly fucked, she thought, the word running througii her mind to further increase her excitement - in front of all these people. She wanted to be fucked, to feel Paul's now rigid cock deep up inside her moist slippery cunt.
The drugged blonde housewife sucked in her breath as arrows of burning joy shot through her. "Take this off!" her fellow-patient repeated one more time and now Donna obeyed him almost automatically, slipping her arms out of the sleeves, letting the dress slide down to her full ripe hips. With a tiny wriggling motion she eased it down over her thighs until it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, clad now only in the fragile lace brassiere and thin nylon panties she wore. She felt Paul fumbling at the brassiere hooks behind her back, felt the wisp of fabric fall open while her lustfully swelling breasts sprang free of the tight restricting garment. A moment later he was pulling at her panties, inserting his feverishly working fingers beneath the elastic waistband. With a sudden twist of his wrist he jerked them down until they, too, fell to the floor while Donna stood nakedly before him.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, her body a roaring funnel of fire by now. "Oh, my God!" She was aware of the others staring at her, their eyes boring lecherously into her nakedness, and yet she was helpless to protect herself. All shame, all modesty was gone as her passion overwhelmed her.
She waited for what seemed an eternity, her very flesh crawling with the anticipation of the pleasure yet to come, and then she felt herself being pushed to the floor. She sank to her knees as Paul sat down heavily on the chair before her. Oh, no! This wasn't what she wanted. Not this! She wanted to feel his hands running over her hotly quivering flesh, wanted to feel his fingers probing at her warm'moist cunt, stroking the tiny bud of her clitoris into tense arousal. She wanted to take hiii'i deep inside her, to clasp his throbbing cock-flesh there in her velvety vaginal channel.
She groaned, looking up expectantly into Paul's face, and then she heard the metallic rasp of a zipper as he opened his fly and his thick, rock-like penis burst forth. She stared in wonder at the stiff swollen rod, its head purple and throbbing obscenely. At the same time, she felt Paul tangle his hands in her hair, pulling her forward until her face was directly above its blunt tip.
Excited almost beyond endurance now, Donna scratched her fingernails lightly over the pulsating cock-shaft and began to stroke and massage it, rubbing the skin back and forth, then slipping her hands down to cup Paul's balls lascivously, cradling their softness in her palms. He groaned and thrust his loins forward until his thickly rigid penis grazed teasingly at her moistly parted lips.
With a little gasp of delight Donna puckered them into a hungry oval, while Paul lunged forward, plunging his cock into the warm cavern of her mouth. She almost choked, but continued to stroke the thick heavy shaft until finally the warm moistness of her open lips slid lasciviously down over the pulsating, sensitive head. And then she began to suck tantalizingly on it, her face contorted with pure lust as he sawed rhythmically in and out.
His loins tensed and jerked as he realized that the lovely blonde before him was absorbing almost the full length of his aching cock into her throat. The bulbous head throbbed and jumped with the nerve-tingling licking of her tongue on every outstroke, and the pink flesh of her lips clung to his thick cock as she sucked voraciously, her mind feverish with the salacious delight of the act. And then the pressure began to grow in his balls. It wouldn't be long now before he shot his hotly seething sperm into her mouth - right down into her beautiful little belly!
His rigidly pulsing cock was about to burst and he shoved his loins up hard against her face as she hummed and sucked maddeningly. Once again she cupped his balls in both hands, squeezing and massaging their sperm-swollen heaviness as if to pump their vital hot moisture deep down into her open throat.
Suddenly Paul felt the white-hot fluid begin to churn inside the bloated sac of his testicles and then surge forth along the full length of his impaling cock-shaft in a burning jet-like stream. He gasped as it spurted wildly in long streams from the jerking tip, making Donna's cheeks bloat and hollow as she rapidly swallowed the thick deluging gushes in a frantic effort to keep from choking.
Paul wound his hands in Donna's hair as she continued to suck frantically, clutching at her head as he shot, his hot semen far into her throat. Finally he locked his fingers behind her neck and thrust his squirting penis even farther into her receptive mouth. And then he was empty - he let her free and fell back against the chair as she coughed but gently now, until his penis fell, limp and deflating from her mouth.
There was silence as Donna sank to the floor, curled up in a little heap. She closed her eyes, too exhausted emotionally as well as physically to move. A short while later she was dimly aware that Paul had stood up and^crossed the room. When at last she opened her eyes, she saw that the chair on which he had been sitting had been pushed away.
She realized with a start as she dragged herself to her knees, that she was still naked. Covering her breasts as best she could with her bare hands, she searched for her clothes. When she found them on the floor she picked them up and struggled into them.
A terrible feeling of guilt overwhelmed her. Oh, dear God! What had she done. What had she done! Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of the depths of degradation to which she had fallen. This perverted act - this obscenity! What on earth had prompted her to do it? The thought suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she was insane. Surely no woman in her right mind would have submitted to such an evil perversion in front of all these other people!
As the thought began to nag at her she turned her head and her eyes searched the' room. Suddenly her back stiffened and she blinked back her tears. That was Alice, her own daughter, over there, sitting on a chair against the wall! And that was Paul Sander kneeling at her feet just as she herself had knelt at Paul's feet a short while ago. And ... oh, dear God! Both of them had stripped their clothes off! Both were naked!
Looking again, Donna saw that Alice's slim young legs were spread wide, exposing the soft pink lips of her tliinly hair-lined little pussy. Just then Paul slipped his hands beneath her thighs, drawing the little golden patch of hair that restled at the base of her belly close to his face. Alice smiled down at him, her body trembling with the excitement that pulsed through her. She ran her tongue around her lips, wetting them until they glistened as she waited expectantly, her smile growing more and more provocative.
Paul gazed hungrily at the moist tight vaginal slit as she rotated it sensuously only scant inches from his lips. He placed his palms flat against the inside of her thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy flanges of her cunt. Then, with a slow, torturing outward movement they drew the delicate pink lips apart, exposing the moist coral slit more fully to him.
Alice moaned, then dug her hands in his hair trying to pull his face into her. With a guttural sound like that of an animal, Paul moved forward to bury the full length of his slippery tongue in the hotly throbbing walls of the girl's expectant pussy.
She gasped, her buttocks jerking involuntarily as his warm spiraling tongue rotated wildly in the softly palpitating depths of her already red-hot vagina. "Oooohhh ...'!" She moaned as he withdrew the impaling oral spear to lick upward, its soft tip flicking and circling her quiveringly erect clitoris. And then his lips enclosed it to suck at its bud-like hardness, drawing the warm surrounding pussy folds into the cavern of his hot mouth, his tongue continuing its maddening licking against the straining pink nub.
The lewdly excited fifteen year old groaned in mounting sensual enchantment as the insanely probing tongue-tip worked its way up and down the length of her narrow wet pussy slit.' He lifted her slightly, cupping his hands beneath her flexing buttocks so that his searching tongue could slide past the elastic-rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and on into the narrow valley between her two creamy-white ass-cheeks. Alice mewled with pleasure at the unbelievably thrilling sensation, purring and whimpering like a kitten.
Her soft wet pubic hair grazed Paul's cheeks as he sent his tongue swirling once again into the widespread tightness of her hotly dilating cunt. She clenched her teeth with passion now, moaning through them as her hands clawed at his hair, trying to guide him closer to the hungrily clasping opening of her vagina. And then he slithered his tongue into the pink velvety cuntal flesh, flicking at it tantalizingly before withdrawing to taunt the coral-colored edges again.
As her mother watched in drugged amazement, Alice shifted and raised her body, pushing forward and clamping her hands behind his head to force his mouth directly over the tight little hole of her cunt. He glued his ovaled sucking lips to the viscous aperture and thrust his tongue deep into it. With a sudden shriek of pure ecstasy, Alice closed her youthfully supple thighs about his bobbing head, and now Sander too felt the lewd sucking performance of her inflamed vaginal passage as his tongue flicked deep, deep up into it. Then a tremendous convulsing shudder racked her hot young body and she wailed in wanton abandon as the walls of her wildly climaxing cunt poured forth their orgiastic fluids, to seep down over Paul's still rhythmically flicking tongue.
It seemed a long time before the girl's uncontrollably quivering body had spent all its passion, a long time before her excited trembling had ceased. And then at last it was over, the ecstasy fading away into a blissful euphoria that she had never known before. She seemed to go slack then, her legs and arms as limp as those of a rag doll, her head settling forward on her chin. And then she slipped quietly on the floor, to lie there with her eyes closed, still breathing excitedly while her heart beat heavily against her ribs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brad Barton slid the car into the space in the parking lot behind Miramar, cut the motor, withdrew the keys and slipped them into his pocket, then sat silently staring into space. It wasn't true, he told himself over and over. It just wasn't true! Why, Donna was as strong and healthy mentally as she was physically. And he had often boasted that she had never had a sick day in her life. Then why this? Why this? He shook his head, acknowledging that the whole tangled web was beyond his comprehension.
Alice? That was different. His daughter was disturbed; he had known that for a long time. And he had been more than willing to seek psychiatric treatment for her. Given the circumstances it had been necessary, he assured himself. But his beautiful wife? He shook his head. Why? Why?
He opened the door and climbed from the car at last, then walked slowly across the concrete surface of the parking lot to the front of the building. As he approached the door his heart seemed to beat faster. But at the same time a finger of icy fear seemed to grab at the pit of his stomach, then to shoot through him making him tremble. He stopped briefly, trying to regain control of himself, and then, when he had himself completely in hand, he walked up the steps and through the front door and demanded to see Dr. Parker.
"I'll see if he's free right now," Miss Allison told him, glancing at Brad's grim face, his tight-set mouth.
"He'd better be," Brad muttered between clenched teeth.
His tone frightened the secretary. "Is it anything special you Want to see him about?" she asked.
"You're damned right it is! I want to know why the hell my wife's being kept in this place!" Brad had been about to sit down, but now thought better of it. He moved menacingly toward the desk and Miss Allison, watching him fearfully, hurriedly picked up the telephone~and pressed the button for the director's extension.
She heard his voice on the other end and spoke quietly and quickly to him. "Dr. Parker, Mr. Barton is here," she said. "He wants to see you."
"I want to see him right away," Brad thundered, smashing his fist against the desk.
"He wants to see you right away," Miss Allison added. She listened a moment and then smiled bravely at Brad. "He's busy right now ..." she began feebly.
"The hell he is!" Brad brought his fist down on the desk again, hitting it so hard that the pencils and pens and paper clips danced across the surface.
"I ... I ... " Miss Allison stammered, her face showing fright now, her hand that was hooked around the telephone trembling slightly.
"Tell him I want to see him," Brad said coldly.
"Dr. Parker? Dr. Parker? Mr. Barton insists that you see him." She listened a moment and then asked, "Can you wait a few minutes, Mr. -Barton?"
"How long?"
"How long?" the secretary asked into the mouthpiece. She listened again. "About ten or fifteen minutes," she said. "Dr. Parker says he'll be with you as soon as possible."
"He'd better be with me sooner than that," Brad said. "Or else I'm going to go through this damn place until I find my wife and take her out of here."
Miss Allison's eyes widened and she stammered again as she spoke into the telephone. "Mr. Barton says it's urgent," she informed Parker. "He says he must see you right away."
Her anxious tone alerted Dr. Parker to the trouble that was brewing. "What the hell's going on out there? " he asked.
"Mr. Barton ... " she paused, trying to think of how to tell Parker what was going on without further infuriating, the man in her office.
"Mr. Barton what?" Parker demanded. "He wants to see me. That's it, isn't it?"
"Yes. That's it."
"Well, tell him I'm busy right now. Tell him I'll see him when I'm through here."
"I've already told him that," Miss Allison said.
"Well, tell him again."
"I'm afraid . . .afraid..."
"Afraid of what?" Parker asked with a sigh, wondering why all secretaries had to be so damned inefficient. Unless they were utter dogs, homely enough to curdle your blood, they never seemed to manage things the way they should. "Afraid of what?"
"I just think it would be better ..." she glanced up into Brad's angrily blazing eyes. "It's urgent, Dr. Parker," she said. "It really is."
"Oh, all right then. Tell him I'll see him now. But I really do wish you could handle things better, Julia. I really do." He sighed disgustedly and put down the telephone.
In the small outer office, Miss Allison cradled the phone she held in her own hand. She made an effort at a smile, then stood up saying "Yes, it will be all right. Dr. Parker will see you now. Will you follow me, please?"
Parker was waiting in his large private office, shuffling a pile of papers on his desk. He looked up and nodded at Brad as he entered, then studied the papers in his hand again: "Excuse me just a moment," he said, then bent over his desk again, ignoring Brad.
"Look, Parker ... " Brad began.
"Just a minute, Mr. Barton. Just a minute." Parjcer looked up, a trace of annoyance on his face. "Won't you please sit down?"
Brad still stood, not moving, and Parker looked up again. "Bleez zzit down," he said, trotting out his accent.
Brad gave a mirthless laugh, then pulled a chair up and sat heavily down on it, watching the other man as he made a few notes on the margin of one paper. God, what a phony, he thought. Even the accent was a fake, he realized now.
"You find something funny, Mr. Barton?" Parker said at last, shoving the papers away from him and devoting his attention to Brad.
"Mighty funny," Brad said. "But it's not really a laughing matter."
"What isn't?" Parker's bright blue eyes stared coolly into Brad's.
"Whatever's going on here," Brad said. "It's mighty peculiar and I don't like it."
"Perhaps you would like to explain yourself?" The words were clipped and short, like tiny bullets hurled into the air.
"I think that explanations are up to you," Brad said.
"Oh?"
"Yes. So start at the beginning."
Parker stared at him, seeing the fury on the other man's face. He would have to play it cool, he thought. Otherwise there might be real trouble. You could never tell what a fool like this might do. He was jealous, that was the trouble. Jealous. And that meant he could cause a scandal that would ruin Miramar. Yes, and send the whole damned staff to jail, too. Well, at least he had no intention of going. He sucked in his breath. Others had been suspicious of his methods before, of his treatment, of the general way he operated. But no one had ever been able to pin a charge on him. And they never would, he vowed. They never would!
His thoughts were interrupted by Barton's chillingly cold voice. "I'm waiting," he said.
"Waiting, Mr. Barton?"
"I'm waiting for your explanation."
"But you have it. I told you everyting on the telephone. And I wrote you a letter as well. Surely you received my letter?"
"Yeah, I got it all right. And you know what?" Barton waited, grinning sardonically. "You know, I didn't believe a single solitary word of what you said!"
"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barton. You see, if you don't believe what I say, there's hardly much point in talking to you, is there?"
"Only if you tell the truth, Parker," Brad said. "So why don't you?"
"I have told you the truth, Mr. Barton," Parker insisted. "That is all I have to say."
"The truth? The truth?" Brad's mouth fell open. "You told me that my wife was 'disturbed'. You told me she became hysterical here and had to be kept under constant guard. You told me that she was crackers - bananas -nutty as a fruit-cake ..."
"We don't use such expressions here at Miramar, Mr. Barton," Parker pointed out. "You're imagining all of this, of course."
"Maybe you didn't use those words," Brad admitted. "But that sure as hell was what you meant."
"It's quite true that your wife is emotionally ill, Mr. Barton. I'm sorry to say so, but it's quite true."
"Yeah? She's just as sane as I am ..." [
Parker nodded, giving Brad a patronizing smile. "That may be true, too," he said. "That may be quite true!"
Barton's face turned beet red and he doubled his fists angrily. "You're saying that I'm off my rocker, too. Is that it?"
Parker parried the other's thrust contemptuously. "It would be hard to give a reliable report of your own state of mental health without a thorough examination, of course," he said witheringly. "However ... yes, I should think from your reaction at this moment that that might be a reasonable assumption."
Brad jumped to his feet, swallowing hard, trying to choke back his still-rising fury. Christ! He'd like to punch this bastard in the nose! He'd like to break his jaw! Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He cleared his throat again, then spat out, "You bastard! You goddamned son of a bitch!"
Parker again gave him his superior smile. "You must admit that you are hardly behaving in a rational fashion right now, Mr. Barton," he taunted.
"How the hell do you expect me to act? What am I supposed to do? You tell me my wife's crazy, and then you imply that I am! How do you expect me to take that? "
Parker clucked reprovingly. "I had expected you to be able to discuss your wife's condition calmly," he said. "I had hoped you would be able to face the facts. But apparently that is impossible." He picked up the telephone, signaling the end of the interview.
Oh, Christ! Brad thought. He had to talk to this bastard in spite of everything. He had to find out what was the matter with Donna. Not that there was anything wrong with her. But he had to learn more. And the only one who.could help him out was this smug son of a bitch sitting opposite him.
He sank back onto the chair, burying his face in his hands. Oh, Lord! How did he ever get himself into this mess? And his wife? And his child, too?
With a great effort he pulled himself together. "All right," he said almost inaudibly. "Suppose you level with me. Just what is the matter with
Donna?"
Parker put down the telephone, an evil smile curling his lips. He leaned across the desk and began to speak to Barton in a confidential whisper. "I'm afraid that your wife is a nymphomaniac," he said.
"You're a liar!"
"Mr. Barton, if you want me to discuss your wife's condition, you will have to control yourself!" Parker picked up the telephone again, put it back, then reached for the papers on his desk, watching Brad all the while out of the corner of his eye.
Brad sighed. He felt hopelessly defeated now. But he couldn't believe Parker. Donna? Donna a nymphomaniac? She was a sensuous woman, he admitted to himself and was thankful that she had never shown any false modesty. But a nympho? God, no!
'^Vhat makes you say that, Doctor?" he asked at last.
Parker waited a moment, choosing his words carefully. Then he shrugged. "From what we've observed of her actions," he said.
"You mean...?"
"I mean that your wife made an attempt to seduce me when she arrived here for an interview. An interview about your daughter, I might add."
Brad felt his stomach churning, his backbone getting weak. He shook Ms head. "That can't be, Dr. Parker. It just can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because Donna isn't like that. She isn't like that at all.'"
Parker folded his hands in front of him and spoke earnestly. "Perhaps she's kept it hidden from you, Mr. Barton. But we here saw it almost immediately."
"But you? You?" Brad was incredulous. "Why on earth would .she want to seduce you?"
Parker felt a fleeting moment of anger at the obvious insult, then decided to make a joke of the matter. "I know it seems absurd," he said, "but that's exactly what she did."
Brad shook his head. "She might have said something that you misconstrued, perhaps ... might have... oh, I don't know . . .appeared a little more friendly than some of the other women you see. But she would never ... never ..." he stopped, unable to speak the words.
"She begged me.. . literally begged me, both in words and actions to ... " Parker paused, wondering if he dared use the word 'fuck' to Donna's husband, then decided it would be the better part of wisdom to use a euphemism, "... to have some sort of sexual rapport with her." . " - .
"And what did you do, Dr. Parker?"
"I refused, of course."
"You did?" Brad was highly skeptical.
"Yes, I did."
"And then what happened?"
"She stripped off her clothes ..."
"I don't believe it!"
"She stripped off her clothes and then she ... she approached me. She began to stroke and caress me. The next thing I knew she had thrown her arms around me and had moved very close to me, very close indeed. In fact she seemed to be grinding her pelvis up against me ... And then ..."
"Yes?"
"And then she tried to pull my clothes off too, Mr. Barton. Almost before I knew it she had unzippedrny trousers and was reaching for my ... reaching for my penis ..."
"There's not a word of truth in that!" Brad shouted, springing to his feet and advancing menacingly toward Parker. "Not a word. And I'll break your goddamned neck if you say another word ... " , Parker edged his chair back. "Mrs. Barton has behaved in a similar manner ever since that time," he said levelly. "Would you care to see for yourself?" Before Brad could answer he flipped the switch of the two-way mirror, and the figures of Donna and her daughter Alice appeared in the room beyond.
Donna had sat patiently in her room, too despondent to care much what happened to her. She took the pills the doctor prescribed because she had no choice. She knew now what their effect would be. She would become drowsy at first and utterly complaisant, ready to follow any order - and then she would become aroused. Her body- would tingle with a maddening passion that would have to be satisfied by even the most perverted means. She would be helpless under the influence of the drugs and would perform the most degrading acts, even in the presence of others. The very idea of it made her slightly ill, but there was no resistance possible. She could only sit and wait for one of the young doctors or a nurse or an orderly to comefor her, to lead her downstairs to the "treatment room" at Miramar.
The door opened and she looked up to see an orderly this time, smiling pleasantly at her. "It's time for your therapeutic session, Mrs. Barton," he said. "Come along now."
She rose a little unsteadily and followed him out of the room, along the corridor and down the stairs. He opened the door and she passed into the large room. At first it seemed empty and then she caught sight of the slim figure of a young girl at the other end of it, standing with her back to her. The slender young blonde seemed familiar, and then a shudder ran through Donna as she gasped, "Oh, my God! It's Alice!"
Trembling a little, she crossed over to her daughter, calling her name. "Alice. Alice, darling."
The young girl turned around and smiled as she recognized her mother. "Hi, Mom," she said.
Donna stepped closer, staring at the girl. Her eyes were glazed and the mother shuddered with revulsion, knowing instinctively that she too was drugged. Oh, Dear God! What were they doing to the child here in this wretched'and evil place? Feeling as if her heart would break she put her hands to her forehead in a gesture of despair. It was obvious that Alice had been. led - no, forced - into the same depths of degradation as she had been. In a sudden great surge of maternal loye she reached out to put her arms around her lovely daughter's shoulders and draw her close. "Oh, Alice," she whispered tearfully. "My poor, poor darling."
Alice "let her head drop to her mother's shoulder, let Donna cradle it in the hollow of her neck. The mother ran her hands tenderly, lovingly, through the girl's blonde silken hair. Oh, dear God! How could she bear anymore?
The distraught mother heard the sound of a door opening but paid little attention to it as she gently kissed her daughter's forehead. She would cradle and comfort her; perhaps she could save her from the terrible ordeal that was certainly in store for her. Even though she would suffer herself, she would sacrifice herself willingly.
She was aware of others milling around in the * room now, yet she still ignored them, still thought only of Alice. And then she heard Dr. Wotman, one of the young doctors who had held her down the first day in Dr. Parker's office. "Why, Mrs. Barton," he was saying. "We didn't realize that you had lesbian tendencies!"
The'words struck her with the force of a lash. She raised her head and whirled around to face the man. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
'There, there." Wotman said. "There's no reason to get upset about it. It's just as normal as heterosexuality, you know."
Donna's face went white. "You can't mean that," she said. "You can't . ..you can't... believe that I would ever touch another woman."
"But that's just what you were doing," Wotman pointed out, smiling blandly.
"This is my daughter. My own daughter!" Donna protested shrilly.
"She's another woman, too. A very young one, but a woman all the same."
"Oh, no!" Donna shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
"Of course she is, Mrs. Barton. And it's not all that unusual for an older woman to be attracted to her own daughter. As you know, Dr. Freud pointed out that young boys want to sleep with their mothers, and young girls with their fathers. We here at Miramar have discovered that mothers have this same love - sexual, physical love - for their daughters."
"You at Miramar," Donna remarked bitterly, wishing she had never heard the name.
Dr. Wotman ignored her and went on. "Here at Miramar," he said, "we encourage everyone to do exactly what he or-she feels like doing. And so we believe it is in your best interest, Mrs. Barton, as well as in the interest of your daughter, for you to seduce her."
"What? Oh, my God! What?" Donna shrieked.
"Seduce, Mrs. Barton. Seduce your daughter. Or, if you prefer that we use the vernacular, fuck your daughter."
Donna shook her head, somehow steeling herself to resist the perverted and utterly depraved command. But in spite of herself she felt a wave of lascivious excitement ripple through her. Her blood seemed ignited by the explosion of hundreds of tiny firecrackers going off simultaneously, and she wondered just what it would be like; this terrible thing they had asked.
She looked up to see the others moving closer, their faces evil and ugly. Once again she heard Dr. Wotman's command. "Fuck her! And fuck her good!"
"Oh, no!", she cried out, but even as she refused, she slipped her hand into the cleavage of Alice's blouse and beneath the filmy nylon of her white brassiere. She felt the round smooth mounds of her daughter's tender breasts and another thrill of wicked pleasure swept through her. She had never known that such a forbidden act could be so exciting!
She trailed her finger over one snowy mound, finding the tiny bud of the pink nipple, teasing and taunting it into a quivering hardness. She had a sudden urge to take the tiny throbbing nub into her mouth and swirl her tongue over it. She wanted to fasten her lips on the proudly erect knob and suck the sweetness from it as though it were some small succulent berry.
In the grip of a sudden passion, she grasped at Alice's blouse and tore it from her body, then unhooked the little white brassiere and pulled that off too. The girl stood before her mother now, her small breasts quivering in the cold air while Donna trembled with involuntary pleasure at the sight. Her head seemed to spin and she felt weak and faint, yet at the same time an animal-like lust possessed her.
She tugged at Alice's skirt now, sliding it down over her firm young thighs and hips, and letting it, too, drop to the floor. And then she insinuated her fingers beneath the elastic waistband of the girl's skimpy white panties and drew them off. She sucked in her breath as she stared at the voluptuously naked young figure, at the full rounded spheres of her daughter's throbbing breasts, at the little wasp-waist, at the firmly swelling flare of her hips and the soft curves of her buttocks. With a sudden impulse she ran her hand over the smooth white skin, trailing it down over her belly to the triangle of silken curls nestling up between her thighs. And then she pulled her close to touch and fondle her with ever-growing delight.
From Dr. Parker's office, Brad Barton watched the whole obscene act through the two-way mirror. It wasn't possible, he told himself. It wasn 't possible! This was some visual trick that Parker, in his wicked perversity, had somehow pulled off. But as Donna slowly and quietly began to remove her own clothes, he gasped in agony. How . ... how ... had this fiend managed to corrupt his wife and daughter in this shockingly lewd way?
He groaned and covered his eyes. When he opened them at last he saw that Donna too was naked, looking adoringly at the girl. The lustfully aroused mother trailed her fingers the length of her daughter's slim young body, pausing to rotate the middle one in a circle over the pink flesh of her flat white belly, while her own nipples hardened spontaneously at the electric contact. Her finger traced the flesh farther down, then .paused again at the patch of sparse pubic hair up between her legs, slowly and deftly parting it. And then it dipped between the hair-lined lips of Alice's wetly throbbing pussy to search for the tiny knob of her clitoris. Her probing middle finger touched it at last, then circled the quiveringly erect nub lightly, while Alice jerked in maddened excitement. And then, as the small bit of flesh grew more and more tautly erect, the girl groaned in ecstasy.
The horror of the scene sent waves of disgust shooting through Brad's shuddering body. "Oh, Christ!" He tried to walk away on trembling legs, but found himself almost rooted to the spot, completely mesmerized by the lewd sight of his wife's finger probing in his daughter's pussy. He would kill Parker for this, he vowed. Kill him! He whirled around. "You son of a bitch," he screamed. "You son of a bitch!"
"Come now, Mr. Barton. This is no.time for anger," the other man said pleasantly. "We want to help your wife - help her to overcome these overpowering impulses she has ... " He stepped backward quickly as Brad swung at him, landing a glancing blow on his chin. Then he rubbed his jaw. "I wouldn't do that if 1 were you," the pseudo-analyst admonished.
Brad swung again, missing this time. And then he found his wrists imprisoned . in Parker's steel-like grip. "Now what did you do that for?" Parker asked.
"What the hell do you think?"
"I'm beginning to think that you're as disturbed as 'your wife is, Mr. Barton," he said. "And I strongly advise you to control yourself." He shook his finger at him, then nodded toward the two doctors in the room with Donna. There was no mistaking his meaning; Brad was as much a prisoner as Donna.
The confused husband groaned again, then returned slowly to the mirror. Donna was still stroking the smooth white flesh of her daughter's quivering thighs. Then once more her obscenely searching fingers probed at the pink folds of flesh up between her legs. Abruptly she slid to her knees and flicked her head forward. Just then one of the figures standing behind her stepped forth, stooping down to slide his strong hands beneath her arms, pulling her to her feet.
He whirled her around and Donna, in spite of her daze, realized that she was facing Paul Sander. His eyes were heavy with lust, and his lips curled lasciviously.
Suddenly the excitement within her body that had built from a tiny spark into a burning flame seemed to envelope her. She needed Paul! She needed a man to bring her to fulfillment just as she had been about to bring her own daughter to her trembling climax.
She pressed her naked body up against him, grinding her loins deep into his pelvis and feeling the hardening cock-flesh beneath his pants. Oh dear God! He needed her! It was almost a miracle, almost as if an unspoken prayer had been answered. With a little whimper of pleasure she let Sander lead her across the room to the couch. He nodded at it and Donna, understanding, slipped quickly down onto it, spreading her slim long legs wide, exposing her own moist pussy to his lewd gaze as her daughter watched excitedly.
Almost at once he stripped* off his clothes, causing Donna to gasp at the sight of his virile cock, already thickly swollen and hard. In a quick movement he flung himself to the couch, his legs sinuously straddling her voluptuous body. With another quick movement he positioned himself above her, kneeling, and then shot his hand out to brutally seize one full snowy breast.
He began to knead it, squeezing the swelling tender flesh between his wiry fingers until it stood out in little white-ridges. Donna recoiled at the pain and bit her lips as Paul tweaked mercilessly at a tautly erect nipple, then closed his strong white teeth over the now upright little bud, nipping cruelly at it.
His other hand trailed the length of her body down to the hair-covered "vee" up between her legs until his middle finger wriggled between the moist fleshy folds of pink skin, seeking the tiny opening that glistened there. He felt its spongy wetness beneath his fingertip at last and sucked in his breath as Donna twisted into a provocatively obscene position. Her lips were wet and parted, and her magnificent breasts began to rise and fall in tormented pleasure, her dark red nipples erect and throbbing. She squirmed beneath him now, writhing in passion as his finger ploughed forward deep into her warm velvety cuntal passage.
In the next room Brad groaned with ever-increasing horror. Oh, Christ! Was that his wife - his modest, demure Donna - twisting beneath this stranger's unmerciful ministrations? He had never seen anyone so obsessed with sheer sensual need, never seen any woman respond with the ecstasy with which she welcomed this man's finger-fucking.
Her hand shot out suddenly to seize Paul's thick hard cock and guide it to the quivering little entrance to her cunt. With a sucking sound he withdrew his twisting finger and a moment later sent his iron-stiff penis plunging deep up into her soft moist channel, the blunt rubbery head plowing everything before it until it battered against the cervix.
Suddenly Paul slipped his hands beneath the quivering half-moons of her buttocks lifting the two rounded spheres up from the couch. His middle finger explored the long smooth furrow between them until it touched lightly on the tiny puckered hole of her anus. Cruelly he forced the tip inside the stretching warm flesh, while Donna screamed at the sudden pain, which gradually ebbed away, fading into a pleasure she had never known before as she whimpered ecstatically. Then she skewered her buttocks down on his impaling finger until it was buried in her rubbery flesh all the way up to his palm.
Donna murmured happily at this new double ravishment of her wildly throbbing loins. Paul speared deep inside her now, quickening his rhythm and lengthening his strokes. The hotly swelling penis fucking in and out of her wet clasping vagina was sending maddening thrills exploding through her blood, and she moved her loins ecstatically up and down beneath the thick pounding cock-shaft.
She knew nothing now but the wonderful joy of surrendering completely to the lure of the flesh. In her daze all else was forgotten - her husband, her child, the humiliating degradation of being fucked almost senseless here before this watching group. Her still mounting excitement seemed to flow outward from her moist cuntal channel, to spread like spilling water to every cell of her body, to set on fire every inch of her quivering skin.
For the passion-soaked woman there was nothing at all but this moment of ecstasy as she gave herself in wild abandon to the all-pervading pleasure. It seemed that she had reached heights that had never been scaled before, and yet the bliss and joy continued to mount until at last she was sure she would explode from it.
Crazed with her approaching orgasm, she finally let out a wild, earthy groan. "I'm cumming ..." she gasped. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming ... !" and then as she writhed and twisted insanely, her warm fluids seeped forth from her ravished passage and her body contracted in a convulsive spasm.
At almost the same" moment, the thick milk-white semen gushed from Paul's bloated balls to spurt deep up into her belly and mingle there with her own wetly hot secretions. And then with a shudder so intense that it shook her violently from head to toe, her legs splayed out over the side of the couch and she collapsed, while the exhausted Paul slowly withdrew his now deflated penis. Then, equally satiated, he rolled over to lie beside her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the couple in the next room - Donna and Paul Sander - sank back in exhaustion, Dr. John Parker flipped the switch in his office, shutting out their images. He turned to Brad Barton. "Well," he asked, "do you believe me now?"
At first Brad was too anguished to answer. He clenched his fists in bitter anger, amazed to find that he still trembled from head to foot. Christ! Was there no end to the indecency, the utter and complete evil of this monster who called himself a doctor? He would kill him, he vowed again. Kill him with his bare hands!
He took a step forward toward the still smiling man, then stopped. Oh, God! What good would that do? He would never get Donna out of here if he so much as laid a finger on this lousy bastard. His world seemed to close in on him - he felt like Chicken Little waiting for the sky to fall - and he reeled slightly- as if from a blow. And then he shook his head, trying to clear it. If only ... if only ... !
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Barton?" Parker taunted.
"You shit!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Parker smirked.
"Oh, Jesus!" Brad put his head in his hands, closing his eyes. When he opened them he glanced briefly at the doctor again, then crossed the room and sat down heavily on a straight-backed chair. What now? he wondered. Where the hell did he go from here? -He felt Parker's eyes on him once more and felt also impelled to shout: "You've done everything possible to that poor woman, haven't you, Parker? Every degrading and obscene thing possible?"
Parker's lips twitched slightly in a cruel smile.: "There's one thing no one has done to her yet," he said.
"Impossible!"
"Not at all. I thought we would ... well ... save the best to the last."
"And just what does that mean?" Brad demanded.
Parker lit a cigarette and puffed on it casually. "What's your feeling about sodomy?" he asked, with equal unconcern.
"Sodomy! Oh, my God!"
"Well, what's your opinion?"
"You must be out of your mind!"
"I didn't ask your opinion of my mental state."
"Well, I'm giving it to you," Brad said belligerently. He looked down at the floor and scraped his shoe against the carpet uneasily. "You don't mean you're going to make someone . .. someone ... do that to my wife?"
"Why not? It's a perfectly normal form of intercourse," Parker said blandly.
"Normal! Normal!" Brad shouted. Oh, God! The image came to his mind of Donna's lovely white body lying on the couch in the next room, her quivering buttocks exposed to the view of God only knew how many others, while some depraved animal stuck his thick rigid cock against the tiny puckered hole of her anus. Jesusr He could almost see it disappearing deep up inside while his wife screamed in agony at the perverted invasion. "I won't let you do it to her," he screamed. "I won't let you do it to her."
Once again Parker smiled calmly at the overwrought husband. "I'm not going to," he said.
"You're damn right you're not!" Brad exploded.
Parker shook his head. "You are," he said even more quietly.
It was a long time before the words sank into Brad's consciousness and made sense to him. He sucked in his breath while he stared at the evil man before him. "What do you mean? "he asked at last.
"Just that. You're going to do it to her!"
Brad shook his head as if he still couldn't believe his ears. "I'm not," he said at last, not quite sure what it was he was refusing to do, but determined to oppose this bastard at every turn. "I'm not." . ' .
"You are." "No."
"Do you want your wife to leave here?" Parker asked dramatically. "Do you want us to release her ... not now, of course - she's still far too disturbed for that; But eventually?"
And now Brad grasped the idea in all its horrible enormity. "That's blackmail," he said. "That's the only word for it.".
Parker shook his hand airily. "Call it what you will," he invited. He stared at Brad again. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Have you'decided to cooperate with us, Mr. Barton? Or do you prefer to'have your wife kept here indefinitely?"
Brad stared at the floor again. Jesus, what a choice! Now that his wife had been committed to an institution, who would take his word that she was sane. How could he get her out without this fiend's cooperation? He lifted his head and turned it as if searching for some way out, some escape. But what if he did manage to get away from here, what then? Leave Donna behind, leave her at the mercy of this depraved inhuman monster? What good would that do?
None at all, he thought, shaking his head. None at all. He looked up again, his decision made for him. Knowing that there was no other choice he forced himself to mumble, 'Til do it. I will."
"Good," Parker said. "I knew you would come to your senses."
"But you'll let Donna go?" Brad asked.
"As soon as possible," Parker answered.
To Brad the answer seemed evasive and yet he knew that he had no alternative. Unless he acquiesced his whole situation - and that of Donna and Alice as well - was hopeless. Swallowing hard and speaking with the greatest difficulty he said, "All right. All right. I'll do anything on earth to help my wife."
It was Parker himself who led Brad Barton out of his office and down the hall to the room in which Donna still lay drowsily on the couch. He pushed the door open and said, "Go on in."
Brad hesitated a moment, almost on the point of refusing. And then, with a helpless shrug, he stepped forward.
As he crossed the room he was dimly aware of the others gathered there. He caught sight of Alice, partially clothed now, and his heart lurched- Oh, God! He couldn't do this terrible thing to Donna and hurt both her and his daughter. He couldn't humiliate his family this way. He whirled around to face Parker, his lips trembling. "I can't," he said helplessly. "I just can't."
Parker gave him a look of mixed contempt and hatred. But the look faded and he was almost sympathetic as he said, "Maybe these will help."
Brad looked down to see a couple of capsules in his outstretched hand. He accepted them gratefully, hoping they would somehow deaden the horror in store for him and his wife. 'Thanks," he said, popping them into his mouth and swallowing. "Thanks, Parker."
"You're quite welcome," the man said sardonically. "Quite welcome, I'm sure."
The fear-filled husband's taut nerves seemed, to relax and a feeling of well-being spread through him. Buoyed up. by the. drugs Parker had given him, things didn't seem nearly as bad as they had been. A little thrill of excitement jolted him at the thought of what lay in store, now. He'd never done such a thing before, never even considered it. But now! Now he .actually wanted to!
He walked forward, hearing the door close behind him. He saw Donna, still lying on the couch but now alone, and approached her. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with drugs, recognizing him only with difficulty.
Brad's mouth was set in a tight grim line and she wondered what it was that bothered him so. She smiled languidly at him and managed to murmur "Brad" before she felt herself being deftly flipped over onto her stomach,, belly grinding into the mattress as she v/rithed against it. Then she felt her husband's strong hands around her ankles as he spread her slim curvaceous legs apart. A moment later he hurled himself onto the couch and sank to his knees, his. body hovering above hers and spanning it.
His hands snaked out to caress the quivering cheeks of her buttocks, and then he spread them apart.until the tight little anal aperture nestled in the crevice was clearly visible. It seemed to throb in excited expectancy as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, to her wet, wide-open cunt. And then his head dropped to kiss her smooth rounded ass-cheeks while his tongue trailed down to lick up into the crack between them.
His fingers probed at the puckered little hole while Donna groaned. Suddenly he barked, "Spread your legs," and, as his wife struggled to comply with his order, he seized her by the thighs and pulled^until she was afraid she would be split wide open.
She groaned again, as her legs were splayed achingly wide until her toes were hanging over the edges of the bed at what felt like right angles to her body. Once again Brad probed at the tight little anal hole and then he plunged his middle finger abruptly up into it, while she winced with the unexpected pain.
He moved his finger around, digging it in up to the first knuckle, sawing to expand the tiny anus while Donna strained back against him. She had a sudden surge of passion for her own husband in spite of the pain he was causing her and began to rotate her hips lewdly. Spurred on by her wanton abandon, he dug a second finger up into the rubbery opening to join the first, while each merciless twist of his hand brought a squeal of pain from her, which tapered off eventually into a gasp of delight.
He continued to skewer his fingers up into her obscenely stretched rectum and then, as she became accustomed to the prodding deep up in her impaled anus, the squeals died out completely, to be replaced by little cat-like mewls of pleasure.
Brad plunged his fingers in and out of his wife's rectal passage, possessed by the demons that seemed to have taken hold of his drug-saturated body. And then, with a sucking noise that both surprised and excited him, he pulled his fingers out, the pink, clasping skin clinging to them lewdly.
For a moment he stared wordlessly down at her prone form while waves of pity swept through him. Suddenly he felt a terrible need to humiliate his wife in this obscene fashion. He would do whatever Parker asked him to do, but he would get his own particular kind of vengeance on the doctor by enjoying the moment to the full. He shot a quick triumphant glance back over his shoulder and then ordered, "Kneel up."
Donna lay, still uncomprehending, face down on the couch. Her legs were still spread wide and she turned her head to look back over her shoulder, bewildered by the sudden cessation of what had become so thrillingly exciting to her. It came to her at last that Brad -'her own dear husband, Brad - had for some reason withdrawn the plunging fingers which were carrying her to such a pinnacle of ecstasy, and was speaking to her. "Kneel," she heard him order. "Kneel up." She felt him stroking her buttocks again, awakening a new and different joy in her that she had never known before.
"Kneel up!" Brad ordered once more, and at this she struggled to her knees and presented the rounded white half-moons of her buttocks to him wriggling them lasciviously in the air. "Take my cock!" Brad said suddenly. "Take it and put it in."
His drugged blonde wife hesitated a moment and then groped for the rock-hard length of cock-flesh which now rested against her split crevice. She stroked it, curling her fingers around it. It seemed huge to her, too huge ever. to penetrate the small hole of her tiny anus. Oh, dear God! How could she ever take it, take it deep up inside her rectum as she longed to!
"Put it in!"
"Oh, no," she wailed. "I can't."
She felt Brad's harsh fingers digging fiercely into the tender flesh of her thighs. Urged on by the sharp pain, she placed the blood-engorged tip of his cock against the puckered little anal orifice. Behind her, her husband strained forward, trying to worm his thickly pulsing shaft into the hairless opening. Suddenly the brown nether ring gave way before the relentless prodding and the bloated tip popped inside, while Susan groaned at the sudden surge of pain. "Oh, God, no! No! It hurts! It's too big! It hurts!" But Brad continued to ram forward with all his strength while he pulled her waving hips back against his own pelvis.
As the hard fleshy rod sank deep up into her quaking rubbery rectum, he began to saw back and forth until his pistoning cock was totally buried in the pink inflamed passage. And now -his wife moved backward to meet his forward thrusts, turning her head from side to side while her long blonde hair flailed out around her.
Brad's hugely distended penis sank in to the hilt now, buried almost to the balls in Donna's tight restricting passage. In spite of the pain that still caused her to gasp from time to time, she began to moan with a growing pleasure. The lewdly submissive sound incited him to further assaults upon her voluptuous naked body, and he trailed his hands over her buttocks and back, kneading and squeezing her smooth resilient flesh. It erupted in cruel red welts, and yet Donna continued to moan, finding ecstasy in the purposely inflicted pain.
Brad puffed and gasped now, almost out of breath with his ever-increasing efforts. Then he began to thrust forward with an almost superhuman force that drove his pelvis into her excitedly yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks. His sperm-inflated balls hung down heavily as if the load of boiling semen they carried would explode at any moment.
Donna felt the sweat dripping from her husband's face as it fell in huge wet drops onto her strenuously hollowing back. She shivered a little with pleasure at the measured tingles as she ground back against his pounding hips. She felt him filling her in a way he had never had before, and it gave her a pleasure completely new to her, too. She wanted only one thing now and that was for Brad to cum, to spurt his warm thick semen deep up into her forever expanded rectum.
Almost as if she had willed it, Brad's body jerked convulsively and he began to utter strange, lust-crazed sounds. With a final shriek that was half-scream, half-wail, he surged forward one final time as Ms pounding body sent shattering waves of white hot cum spurting into her anal depths. It ran through her, filling her even more completely, and then she felt her own climax as it mounted to its soul-wrenching explosion. She screamed as she felt Brad's thick white cum trickle out along the length of his depleting cock-shaft to run down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks, drenching them just as her own fluids seeped forth from her open cunt.
As the spasms and convulsions of the two bodies subsided, the others in the room pressed forward. Someone pulled Brad's spent body off his wife's, while another flipped Donna over onto her back as easily as she had been turned over onto her stomach earlier.
As Donna turned her head, her mouth gone slack, she felt a thick fleshy, object against her lips. She swirled her tongue around it and at last recognized it as the hardened cock of still another of the men in the room. As he pushed forward she ovaled her lips in a wide" round circle and took the pulsing rod deep up into her throat, choking a little at first, and then accepting it with pleasure. Her cheeks hollowed and filled as she sucked crazily at the blunt and. swollen head.
She closed her eyes, letting her tongue rove at will over the rigidly hardened penis that filled her mouth. And then she felt someone else's hands sliding down her smooth body, stopping to caress her softly throbbing breasts. A finger circled one little budding nipple, until it swelled into a quivering knob of hardness. She sighed ecstatically as her body seemed to take fire once more. Oh God! She had never been so aroused, so thrilled in all her life! She stretched out her hands to grasp the head of the man stroking her body, tangling them in his hair and trying to pull his face down, his lips to her tingling skin.
He arched back, breaking away from her, but continuing to trail his fingers down her nakedly quivering flesh until they reached the sparsely curling pubic hair at the base of her belly. He paused to tease the tiny clitoris hidden there while Donna sucked in her breath. Oh, dear God! It was wicked but she wanted it. She wanted to be fucked to death by all the men here. She wanted to give herself completely, wanted to be filled and filled again by all the cum in their balls.
As the man hovering over her slid his hands down the firm creamy-white flesh of her inner thighs she let her legs fall open obscenely, displaying the trembling folds of her pussy to his lurid gaze even as she continued to suck hungrily at the thick penis in her mouth. She felt his finger trace the long slit there, felt it pause then slide forward to sink deep up into the hungrily devouring passage.
He twisted and turned his finger tip, bringing little mewls of contentment from deep in Donna's throat. And then he withdrew his finger with a sudden sucking sound and positioned himself above her. Donna waited anxiously, her nether lips trembling in renewed excitement. And then she felt the blunt head of his thickly prodding cock teasing at the entrance to her moist pink vagina. She reached her hands out again, this time letting them descend on his arched and tensing back. She dragged her nails across his skin, leaving long red welts upon it. Suddenly he pressed forward and his relentless, saliva-moistened cock swept deep up into the narrow cuntal channel while a shocked cry of pleasure escaped her lips.
Still sucking avidly at the penis screwing hotly into her mouth, she let her hands fall to her sides and then she felt still another cock shoved against one of them. Her fingers curled lovingly around it as she cradled the rigidly throbbing length in her palm. She massaged it now, pushing the soft, unresisting foreskin back and forth, as the desire deep inside her belly became �a rapid torrent once more. She began, to writhe and grind her cunt up wildly beneath the pummeling cock deep up inside her shuddering cunt, grinding her buttocks lewdly into the couch beneath her in a circling movement, constricting her cunt muscles to clasp the hot impaling pole more securely. She wanted to exploit her situation to the limit, to grovel in the seething sticky cum that would saturate her voracious insides when it sputtered forth to dribble down her thighs.
She ground her buttocks more and more furiously against the couch, lifting her loins to press forward as he sawed in and out of her wetly throbbing pussy, at the same time sucking insatiably at the stiff shaft of penile flesh in her mouth, swirling her tongue-tip to taunt the blood-fattened head that stabbed hotly into her greedy oral aperture. She wanted it to shoot into her mouth, wanted to swallow it and feel it pouring down her throat until her stomach was as filled as her cunt. She wanted it to drench her body both inside and out. As she pumped the jerking cock in her hand, she wondered vaguely if perhaps one of the three demanding rods she was acting as receptacle for belonged to her husband. But what did it matter? All she wanted was cock, cock, and more cock!
And then the cock fucking deep into her ravished vagina bulged and jerked, spurting its creamy hot charge far up into her quaking cunt. As her own climax crescendoed, the surging semen splashed violently against her contracting vaginal walls and drizzled back out of her, dripping from her saturated, hair-covered cunt lips against her loins. The pressure of his spasming pelvis massaged her erect clitoris, making her convulse uncontrollably, taking the cock in her wildly sucking mouth to the very hilt. It tocT burst forth with sudden violence, flooding her mouth and throat with its pungent orgasmic liquid. Her cheeks bloated as she swallowed the hotly spewing gushes excitedly and she clasped her lips like a tight-fitting ring about the spurting cock so as not to lose a single drop of the life-giving sperm which dribbled from the corners of her mouth down to her chin. Then, as he withdrew his collapsed penis, she lashed out her tongue in a sweeping motion to swipe the stringy viscuous fluid trailing from his depleted cock-head back into her mouth.
She felt the cock still in her hand begin its own insistent jerking, felt it pull abruptly from her tiglit grasp, then a moment later felt it sink deep up into her sperm-filled mouth. Again a violent sawing in and out began, a choking thrust that lunged far into the back of her throat, then withdrew as she caught her breath. And then, as she felt still another wild explosion, felt the burgeoning shaft between her tightly ovaled lips shoot forth its cream-like jets of churning white-hot sperm, her own body seemed to fragment in a great burst of showering stars, racking her entire being with an ecstasy that set her brain to whirling madly. She moaned out her joy, and then lay motionless on the couch, enveloped at last in oblivion, mercifully unaware of her husband, who was staring in stark lust-distorted horror at her still quivering body.
He felt his own brain whirl, felt all his strength flow from his body. His stomach churned and his knees buckled. He fought off the attack as long as he could but it overcame him at last and he sank to the floor, unseeing and unknowing.. .
CHAPTER NINE
A fog of gray seemed to enshroud his head as Brad Barton opened his eyes. At first he had no idea where he was; he only knew that his body ached unbearably from the cramped position in which he had spent, most certainly, several hours. But as he looked around, looked at the damp chill of dew still gilding the blades of green grass, at the huge stone building which seemed to press forward as the dark receded, he recognized Miramar. And then he realized that he was doubled up in the back seat of his own car. He had no idea of how lie got there, no memory of anything that had passed after the horror of watching his own wife fucked and, debauched in every shocking and perverted way. possible. It came to him that he had been among those who had worked her over and a fleeting image of his lewd sodomizing of Donna passed through his mind. Then, he pushed it aside to bury it somewhere deep in the. depths of his mind.
As the sun rose higher, illuminating the street ahead, the grounds of Miramar behind, the fog seemed to lift from his brain, too. He began to sort things out, to make decisions. And one of the most important was to push as much distance between himself and this place as possible.
He fished in his pocket for the car keys, found them and inserted one in the ignition lock. He started the car and set it in motion. And then his thoughts returned suddenly to the wife and child he was leaving behind. Jesus! He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He had to go back and rescue them somehow. He turned off the ignition and sat for a moment in the stalled car. And then he sighed. There was no way he could save them - at least not by himself. He would have to get the help of others. But he was uncertain just how he could do that. Still, he would have to! And so he turned the ignition once more, set the car in motion again and rolled slowly forward.
Back in town, he drove to his office, left the car in the garage and went inside the building which housed Garvin, Barber Associates. He was pleased to find that his secretary had not yet come in and he went directly to his own office, sitting down at the desk and sifting through the pile of letters she had placed there. But the words written on them seemed to make no sense whatsoever, and at ten o'clock - long after he had heard his secretary come in and slam the door - he was still looking at the one on the top of the pile. It made no more sense to him now than it had when he had first looked at it, and he had a furious impulse to crumple it up in his fist and hurl it into the wastepaper basket. But something told him not to, and he smoothed it out on his desk one more time, trying to make something out of it.
He made a few notes on a piece of paper, then glanced at the second letter. That, too, was incomprehensible, and he rmshed it aside and looked at the third. He had trouble understanding that, too, and sighed deeply, then lit a cigarette. As he inhaled he wondered what the hell had happened to everybody - they used to write letters that were direct and to the point. But now!
He shoved the papers away and sat staring out the window, still puffing on the cigarette. It was a sunny day, but to Brad it seemed unbearably dark and grim. He snubbed out the cigarette and got up, walking slowly to the window. He peered down in the street below and it suddenly occurred to him that he could end this wretched life, this misery to which he was condemned, by one quick leap. With a resolve born of.despair he flung the window open and then he stopped. Christ! Suicide was the coward's way.
He went back to his desk, sat down and lit another cigarette, and then went through the pile of papers again. But the words on them blurred and danced, seeming always to rearrange themselves in the shape of Donna. Donna, his own wife, being fucked half to death by Dr.
Parker ... surely Dr. Parker had been only the first to get up between her legs! And Donna lying beneath Paul Sander, twisting and writhing in wild, uncontrollable ecstasy while he thrust his cock deep up inside her open vagina. And then finally the awful and sickening spectacle in which he himself had lewdly ass-fucked his wife.. He shuddered and tried to focus his eyes on the words before him. Brushing his hand across his forehead he was surprised to find it covered with cold sweat. His body trembled now and his fingers inexplicably lost their hold on his cigarette. It fell to his desk and he reached frantically for it before the glowing end could set fire to the papers in front of him.
Shaking like a leaf he picked it up, burning his fingers. He said "Goddamn!" and dropped it quickly. This time it fell onto the leather-bound blotter, the red-hot ash devouring a corner before he could extinguish the burning coals. "Oh, goddamn! Goddamn it all!"
He cleaned up the mess he had made as well as he could, noting miserably that the desk beneath the blotter had already been scarred. But at least the fire was out. He was grateful for that.
He got up and walked around the room once more, licking his burnt finger. He wished he had something to put on it - it hurt like hell - but he couldn't think of anything he had in his desk. There was a first-aid kit in the men's room, but he was afraid he might meet someone there and have to explain what had happened. He already felt enough of a fo�l, and once more he wished he were dead.
The jangle of the telephone startled him and he reached for it automatically. His secretary's words sank into his consciousness. "Mr. Coleman is on the line. Will you speak to him?" Hell, he thought. He didn't want to talk to anyone.
"No," he said.
"Will you call him back?"
"No!" In a sudden fit of anger he slammed down the telephone, then resumed his pacing.
Why the hell had he done that? Coleman was an important client. But he couldn't be bothered with anyone today - not even important clients.
He sat down at the desk, lighting another cigarette, warning himself to be careful with il this time. But once again, as he sat staring into space, the cigarette burned his fingers. "Goddamn!" he swore, then crushed out the cigarette in the huge pottery ashtray that Donna had picked up at her favorite artsy-craftsy shop.
Donna!
He began to wonder if he should go to the police. Perhaps they could do something. But what? And would he dare to go, after being involved in that obscene orgy that had taken place at Miramar? Wouldn't Parker have photos of him as he rammed his own thick cock into his wife's tiny puckered anus. Of course he would! And he would use them against Barton in any way he could. Hadn't he tried to blackmail.him before? Certainly he wouldn't'stop-at blackmail now.
With a little shudder of despair Barton remembered something he'd read not. long before. Sodomy was a criminal offense in almost every state of the union. If Parker wanted, to -and he would, Brad knew, he would - he could send him to jail for years. And then what would become of Donna and Alice? Christ, they would rot out there in Miramar!
He got up again, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His mind was dazed with the horror of what had happened and of what was yet to come. He was trapped -.and he knew it. Suddenly the walls of the room threatened to close in on him. He couldn't breathe, he seemed to choke, while his heart flailed wildly against his ribs. Oh, Jesus! He had to get out, get away!
He picked up Ms coat and threw it over his arm, then went out hurriedly. As he passed his secretary's desk she looked up in bewilderment. "Mr. Barton?" she called out. "Mr. Barton, there was another call for you ..."
"I'm in a hurry," he shouted over his shoulder.
She blanched at his strident voice.. "When shall I say you'll be back?"
"God only knows," Brad muttered, then hurried-on.
He, waited impatiently for the elevator, wondering where he was going. But it hardly mattered; nothing did, but getting out of here. But outside, he still felt the same terrifying pressures weighing on him. Almost panic-stricken, he wandered aimlessly through the streets. He had no idea how long he walked and hardly any of where he went.
Once, in a moment of decision, he headed toward the police station and even started up the steps. But he hadn't the courage to go in and he stood hesitantly before the heavy oak door before he turned and fled. He walked around again, then stopped somewhere for a hamburger when he realized that he was hungry. But the sight of food repelled him and he left it untouched. And when the waiter came around to ask, "Whats'a matter, Bud? Something wrong?" he shook his head and ordered a double scotch-on-the-rocks.
The drink helped to ease the tension and he ordered a second. And then, knowing that he could hardly spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on a stool at The King's Crown, he slid from it and headed for the door.
Once outside he was at a loss again as to where to go. The thought of returning to the office was unbearable. But going home to an empty house seemed even worse. And so he wandered around the town again, pausing to looking in shop windows on the main street, turning off, staring at the displays of stills in front of several movie houses, then moving on to cross the park in the center of the city.
When a wind came up and a light misty rain began to fall he pulled his coat collar up around his chin. But when the rain turned into a steady downpour he gave up and went home.
The living room was dark and dismal and he went out to the kitchen switching on the lights as he went. He dropped his sodden coat on the kitchen floor - a little pool of water spread out around it - and, shivering, fixed himself a drink. He gulped it down, shuddering at the taste. Then he fixed himself another and carried it into the living room. He slumped into a chair and drank the scotch. When it was finished he went back to the kitchen and fixed another. This time he brought the bottle back with him to the living room and set it, as well as the drink, on the coffee table.
The house seemed eerie and it frightened him. Shivering a little, he poured himself another drink and then still another. His head was spinning by the time the bottle was empty, but he went to the kitchen anyway, found another pint-bottle and opened it. Then he carried it back to the living room.
The bottle was a quarter empty when at last Brad fell asleep, stretching out on the couch. When he awoke, the sun was streaming in the window. He wondered what time it was, then decided he didn't really give a damn. His head was throbbing and he poured himself another drink, muttering something about "the tail of the dog that bit you." He poured another and another ... and another. The day wore on, but Brad still sat in his own living room, drinking.
Once he heard the telephone ring, but decided not to answer it. The hell with it! It would only be bad news!
He drank again, then stretched out on the couch for a nap. Almost at once he fell asleep.
He was awakened by the sound of the telephone ringing stridently. This time he struggled to his feet, stumbled along the hall to it and picked it up. "Nobody home," he barked. Then he slammed the receiver down.
He went back to the living room and had another drink. The bottle was close to empty now, but he found another one in the kitchen. He began to drink that.
Once again he fell asleep, and awoke with the sun streaming into the room. Instinctively he reached for the bottle and poured a stiff drink. When he had swallowed it he got up and roamed around the house. Upstairs he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were bleary and his chin sported a three-days' growth of stubble. His shirt was ripped open and his tie, still knotted, hung askew. Angrily he tore it off, then went downstairs again.
He tried to remember when he had last eaten. It had been there at The King's Crown. Then he remembered that he had sent the food back untasted. When, then?
He ought-to eat something, he thought. But he didn't feel hungry. Even so he rummaged through the refrigerator and found bacon and a couple of eggs. He plopped them all into a frying pan, then went back to the living room for a quick drink while they cooked. He sat down, his aching head between his hands, until he smelled something burning. Damn it all! The bacon and eggs! He went back to the kitchen and threw the charred remains into the garbage can.
He went back and had another drink. His third, and last, bottle was almost empty by now, and Brad knew he would have to go out and get more. He hated the thought of venturing into the street, but he hated even more the thought of going without any alcohol. He finished off the bottle, put on his coat, and went out.
He avoided his friendly neighborhood liquor dealer and went on to a large cut-price store where he'd never bought anything before. He hesitated a moment before he went in, then demanded two fifths of scotch and one of bourbon.
The owner served him reluctantly - dear God! Did he really look that debauched? - and he took his change and slunk away. He stopped at a small grocery shop to buy more bacon and eggs, as well as a couple of packages of frozen macaroni and cheese and a small steak, and once again he saw the look of contempt mingled with fear on the face of the proprietor. Jesus! What did they take him for? He rubbed his rough chin thoughtfully. What did they take him for? A common thief or something? Muttering a curse, he swept up his package in a huff and left.
The telephone was ringing as he climbed the steps to the house. "Let it ring," he grumbled. He went in, ignoring the still sounding bell, and went into the kitchen. He dumped his packages on the kitchen table and left them there. He pulled out the bottle of bourbon, uncorked it and carried it to the living room. Once again he slumped in a chair and devoted himself to the business of drinking.
Sometime later, in the early evening, the telephone rang again. This time Brad picked it up and left it dangling off the hook, saying nothing at all.
He fell asleep again and awoke during the night. He went out to the kitchen and found the food he had bought sitting in a messy pool of water. Everything had thawed and now seemed completely unappetizing. He thought of throwing it all away, but decided he was too tired. He would do that later. Meanwhile he wanted a drink.
He knew nothing more until the next day. It was almost evening by the time he awakened, and he felt weak. Damn it all! He'd better eat something. But he stared in disgust at the limp and sodden packages he had picked up the day before. He went back to the living room, carrying a bottle of scotch with him this time to replenish his diminishing supply.
He'd had a couple - he wasn't sure how many - when the doorbell rang. He ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the ringing persisted. And when he still ignored it he heard the sound of a shoulder pushing against the door, he heard the sound of splintering wood. Oh, Christ! Now what were they doing that for?
He pulled himself to his feet and advanced unsteadily toward the door. "What the hell do you want?" he called.
"Brad? Brad? Is that you?" "No it isn't!" "Then who is it?" "What the hell is it to you?" There was a silence and then the voice rang out again from the darkness. "Brad, it's me. It's Jim Barber."
"I don't give a damn who you are. Go away."
"I'm not going away, Brad. I want to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk to you, though."
"Look, Brad," Barber said. "I've known you a long time, haven't I? And you've worked for me - for Andy Garvin and me - for a long time, haven't you?"
"Sure have," Brad sneered. "Sure have. And now I've had it up to here."
The words stunned Barber. Brad Barton had been one of their most trusted employees. He seemed to fit in better than the rest, seemed to be more efficient and more conscientious. What on earth had brought about this change?
"Look, Brad, let me in. I want to talk to you."
"To hell with you," Brad shouted.
"If you don't open the door, I'm going to break it down!"
"You and who else?"
"A couple of police officers who are here with me," Barber shot back.
Police!. Oh, Christ! Then Barber knew what had happened, knew what Barton had done to his wife! Suddenly he felt weak. He tried to find his voice, but stuttered at first. And then he called out, "I'll open the door, Jim. But you have to send the police away first."
"Okay."
There was the sound of feet descending the stairs, moving away then dying out, "Okay?" Jim called.
"Okay." Brad slid the bolt back and turned the key in the lock. "Okay, Jim," he said. "What do you want?"
Barber pushed his way into the hall, staring at Brad's face. Christ! He looked like some kind of tramp! What the hell was the matter? "Want to tell me about it?" he asked.
Brad shook his head, then turned and stalked down the hall and into the living room. He sank into a chair and poured himself a drink.
Jim followed him. "What's it all about, Brad?"
He shook his head.
"Is Donna here?" Again Brad shook his head. "Alice?"
"No."
"Well, for God's sake, where are they?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes, I would. And I aim to find out, too."
"How?"
"Put down that drink. Or else offer me one."
"Okay." Brad poured another and held it out.
"Thanks. Now suppose you tell me what's happened."
Brad looked frantically around the room. Jesus! How could he? How could he tell Jim Barber about Donna and Alice? About what was going on at Miramar? He couldn't, that was all. He couldn't. And yet the burden had become too great to bear. "Okay," he said at last, his voice little more than a whisper. "What do you want to know?" He paused, waiting for an answer, then suddenly began to speak again. He began in the hopeless tone of a man completely defeated. "My wife's at Miramar. That's a mental hospital. Or at least it's supposed to be ... " He went on, giving detail after detail without interruption.
When he stopped at last Barber said, "I think I'd better call the D.A."
"God, no!"
"He's a friend of mine," Jim said. "He'll take care of things. And he'll keep everything quiet, too. You don't have to worry about Arnold."
Because there was nothing else to do, Brad agreed. He watched Barber go to the telephone and listened apathetically as he made his telephone call. When he came back his employer said, "He'll take care of things. He's going out there with a police squad right now." Brad could only nod weakly. And then he asked. "Do you want to go along? "
"I can't sit here, for God's sake. Not knowing that my wife and child are out there and in danger of getting shot or something. I can't sit here."
"My car's outside. Come along."
Brad got his coat and went out into the darkness. He climbed into Jim's car and closed his eyes as they drove through the dark and deserted town.
The police had already ringed the building by the time they reached Miramar. There were barricades set up too, and a couple of police were approaching the building, calling to those inside to surrender.
There was a flash of fire as a shot rang out and the officers dived for cover. And then there was the sound of teargas bombs exploding and the air was filled with an acrid smell. Brad gasped for breath, then wiped his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his coat.
A short while later Parker, accompanied by the two young doctors, Wotman and Bistry, came out of the building with their hands above their heads. The secretary, Miss Allison, followed them and then the rest of the staff. When all had been herded into a paddy wagon, the entire squad of police advanced to enter the building.
Brad's head whirled again as he waited out the agonizing moments until Donna, wearing a thin negligee-open to the waist and tied loosely with a sash, stumbled from the doorway. Her eyes were filled with tears, too - both from the joy of being released from the terrors she had undergone and from the effects of the gas released upon the hapless patients. Behind her came Alice, trotting along, apparently unconcerned by the chaos around her.
They got into the car, eyes still streaming, and Jim drove off. Even after they'd left the hospital Donna continued to cry, while Brad held her in his arms and tried to comfort her. "Don't," he said, patting her shoulder. "Don't, darling. It's all right now."
"Are you sure?" Donna whimpered.
"Yes, I'm sure." Drunk as he was, drunk as he'd been, Brad was now able to take full control. "Jim," he said, turning to Barber, "could you drive us back to our house?"
"Sure thing."
No one spoke as the car slid through the darkened streets. It stopped at last in front of the Barton house, and Brad opened the door, slid out and helped his wife out. He opened the back door too, and watched Alice hop from the car. "Thanks," he said to Barber. "Thanks a lot." He stood there, twisting his fingers, wondering if he ought to invite him in. Oh, God, no! He wanted to be alone for awhile, alone with Donna.
He stared at Barber, still trying to think of something to say. But Barber anticipated his feelings. "I'll come around in a day or so, Brad," he said, giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Seems to me you and the Missus here are both tired. And seems to me you've got a lot to talk about."
Brad nodded. "Thanks, Jim," he said again. "Thanks."
He watched the other man go down the steps. When he had reached the bottom one, he turned suddenly. "By the way," he said, "it seems to me that Alice's going to need help more than ever."
"Yes," Brad said, nodding. "I guess she will."
"Mark Cravitz is about the best man in the state," Jim said.
"Yeah? Well I'll get in touch with him." Brad said, wishing the other man would leave.
"Won't do you any good," Jim said matter-of-factly. "The guy's so busy he doesn't even answer his telephone."
That must have been one of those he'd called in the first place. And if he was that busy, why the hell did Jim bother to tell him about Cravitz. "No?" he asked.
"No. But he's a friend of mine. And he'll take Alice as a patient if I ask him to."
"Gee, that's great!" Brad was grateful, but growing more and more impatient. Christ! Hadn't Jim said he knew he wanted to be alone with his wife? Then what the hell was keeping him there?
"So I'll ask him," Jim said. "I'll see that he takes Alice as a patient. And don't you worry. You ask me, that kid's going to be all right."
Brad still wished Jim would leave, but his words cheered him nevertheless. And behind him Donna was smiling for the first time since her rescue. "Sure she is," Brad said. "And I'm sure as hell obliged to you ..." he stopped, feeling foolish. There weren't any words to express his feelings and here he was, mouthing the most obvious cliches. He shrugged. "You know what I mean, I guess," he said.
"I guess I do," Jim said. "Now look. You take it easy for ahwile. Then get in touch with me when you want to come back to work. Okay?"
"Okay!" Brad gave his assent with a wave of his hand, then followed Alice and Donna into the house. The girl headed for the kitchen at once, calling out, "Hey, Mom. Isn't there any more peanut butter?"
"On the shelf," Donna called. "If there isn't any in the refrigerator, look on the kitchen shelf. And have a sandwich, darling, and a glass of milk. Then go right to bed."
When Alice answered, her mouth was full. And then, surprisingly, she made no protest at all, "Okay," she said. "See you in the morning."
They heard her clattering up the steps at last. And it was then that Donna burst into tears. Oh, dear God! What did Brad think of her! He had seen her debauched, degraded, subjected to one outrage after another. How could he ever want to see her again?
She brushed tears from her eyes, then lowered them, afraid to look at her husband. Oh, yes, he too had defiled her, but only at the insistence of that evil man, Dr. John Parker. And even so, he was entitled to his indiscretions. Men strayed and were forgiven ... women were damned for the same thing. And she was eternally damned, of that she was sure.
"Brad?" she said softly.
"Yes, Donna?"
"I guess it's all over for us now, isn't it? I mean ... after what happened."
"Donna!" he exclaimed. "What are you talking about? "
"About ... well, it's so different now. You're different and I'm different and ..."
He pulled her to him, bending his face to hers, covering her mouth with his own moist lips. His tongue shot out to pry them apart and sink deep within the warm moist cavern, almost, it seemed to Donna, as far back as her tonsils. She felt a thrill of sexual excitement run through her, more intense than she had ever experienced.
Brad pulled her closer, grinding his loins against hers. Oh, Jesus, he thought. She was so ... so . . .he couldn't find the word. Jesus! She was hot, that was it. The hottest, most sensual woman he had ever known.
"Yes," he said at last. "You're different."
Under his breath."he muttered, "Thank God." And then he said aloud, "Go on up to bed, Donna. I'll be with you in a minute.'' He watched her as she walked off, her hips swaying gracefully but sensuously, the mere sight of her rounded ass-cheeks more provocative than he had ever imagined.
His excited cock jerked and lurched beneath his pants, and his blood pounded at the sight of. his wife. Christ! Whatever it was that had happened to her, it had somehow stripped away all the inhibitions she had ever had. He knew that he could do anything to her now -anything at all. And. he knew that she would respond, exciting him beyond anything he had ever known. Jesus! Jesus Christ!
He waited until she had started up the stairs, and then he followed, unzipping his fly as he went, struggling out of his clothes. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, he said to himself.
And then he went into the bedroom where she was waiting for him, lying naked on the bed, her lovely thighs spread wide, and .trembling in anticipation of the fucking she longed for - and now, by God, would get, all the way up to her big, unfaithful tits . .. !
