As Kathy sat on the park bench, a decoy for her would-be rapists, the provocative blonde policewoman heard a rustling in the bushes behind her. But Dave was nearby, wasn't he? He would come to her aid if she needed him-Then Kathy felt something being pulled tightly about her neck, and everything went black....
1
Kathy Harper was waiting for a rapist, hopefully for two or three rapists.
Like any cop who has ever been assigned to a stakeout, Kathy was conscious of the irony of a police officer actually hoping someone would attempt to commit a crime. Still, this kind of detail was awfully dull unless you were lucky enough to get a bite. And those contemptible punks who had been roaming City Park, gang-raping any unfortunate girl they caught, deserved to be punished.
Kathy remembered the Bay City coed who had been their most recent victim, a beautiful, fresh young blonde with a gorgeous figure. She didn't think the girl would ever completely recover from the horror of being viciously raped again and again in the balmy privacy of the deserted park.
Deek was thinking of the coed, too, as he watched the lovely young policewoman sitting on the lonely park bench. The girl he was stalking now was also blonde and beautiful, and, like the last girl they'd had, she had a haughtily virginal quality that made you want to break her all the way down. He wondered if Claude was thinking the same thing. Man, would the rest of the gang, blow their minds when they found out what Deek and Claude had to themselves! They'd only have to wait a little longer now, just to be sure everything was cool.
In the meantime, Deek could think back to that last broad.
She had hesitated only for a moment when she saw Deek approaching her on the narrow path. Then she clutched her armful of books more tightly against her plump breasts and started to scurry around him.
"Miss, I wonder if you could help me?" he had said.
"What is it?" Her voice was small and uncertain.
"Let me get a better look at those big tits of yours!" As he said it, Deek shot out one hand and knocked her books to the ground.
She shrieked once, more in surprise than fright; then she turned and ran back down the path. She ran right into the waiting arms of Crazy as he stepped out from behind a tree. This time her scream was one of pure terror. She twisted madly in Crazy's arms, and he laughingly let her break away from him.
Trapped between Deek and Crazy on the narrow path, she started to run off through the surrounding bushes, but had to swerve back to avoid Angie. However, she didn't move quickly enough to prevent him from catching a loose handful of the back of her blouse. Buttons sprayed in every direction as she literally ran right out of the flimsy garment!
She didn't run very far, though. As she passed Nick's hiding place, he stepped out behind her and grabbed a fistful of her honey-blonde hair. The girl shrieked in her sudden agony and stopped dead in her tracks. Instinctively, she reached for the back of her head with both hands, trying to ease Nick's punishing grip. The movement made her large breasts stand out even more prominently.
"Hey, look at those babies!" Nick laughed. He pulled viciously at her hair, forcing her spine to curve back sharply and her breasts to jut out still more. She whimpered in pain.
"The man asked for a better look at your tits, honey," Nick said. "Why don't you be polite and show him?" With his free hand he ripped off her lacy bra in one short, brutal motion.
She screamed in torment as the movement caused her trapped hair to jerk painfully in his hand. The torture was so intense she was helpless to prevent him from assaulting her inviting mounds. Greedily, he lowered his mouth to one taut, red nipple and bit just hard enough to hurt her. She screamed more shrilly and twisted wildly in his arms.
"My God," someone said, "just look at this slut."
She was something to see all right. Without the bra, her bulbous breasts were magnificent, crowned with the perfection of her exquisitely shaped nipples.
"My turn," Claude said, leaving his hiding place and joining the other three boys who were watching Nick toy with their prize. He walked up to the girl and looked at her arrogantly for a moment, as if he were a desert chieftan and she were a slave being offered for sale. Then he reached out and ripped off her skirt.
She was naked now except for her panties, hose and shoes, panting from the running she had done-and the screaming. Her face was contorted in agony. She looked like an animal caught in a trap, something proud and high-strung, like a deer.
Deek found himself concentrating on the plump mound that pushed out against her bikini panties right at the vee of those wonderful long legs. His penis was so hard it hurt, and he could feel the wetness at the end of it squishing against his shorts. Jesus, did he ever want a shot at that tender young cunt!
"Please," she begged them. "Please don't!"
Deek shouldered Claude aside. "It's all right, Miss," he said. "Just calm down. We all got carried away." He smiled at her reassuringly, and, taking his cue, Nick released her.
She looked at Deek as if she wanted to believe him with all her heart but was afraid she couldn't. She took one tentative step and then another, but then Deek leaped after her. He pulled her squirming body tightly against his, feeling his erection grow even harder, if that were possible, as her plush breasts ground against his chest. His hand snaked under the waistband of her panties and forced itself between her thighs. While she struggled desperately and futilely against his embrace, Deek rubbed his fingers back and forth between the lips of her lush young slit, not probing her deeply but merely moistening his fingers in the sweetness of her virginal pussy. Then he pushed her away from him and slowly, deliberately, put his dampened fingers between his lips and sucked on them.
"Honey," he said, "that's what I call good eating."
She made a sound as if she were about to vomit, and, as her disgust momentarily overcame her fear, she looked at him as if he were some kind of insect. "Let's see if her cunt looks as good as it tastes," Deek said to the other boys.
The five sex-crazed hoodlums made short work of pinning the defenseless girl to the ground, and, even as her shoulders touched the damp grass, her panties were being rolled down her smooth thighs. Her bare buttocks slithered from side to side in useless resistance as her panties, hose and shoes were pulled in a single twisted mass from her wriggling feet. Nick and Crazy were standing at her head, each pinning down one of her wrists with a heavy foot.
"No ... please!" she shrieked. "Oh, God ... NO!"
Deek laughed at her pleas for mercy. He untangled her panties from her hose and shoes and stuffed the filmy garment in her mouth. The sounds she made through the obscene gag were like the mewlings of a hurt animal.
"You two grab her legs and hold them down," Deek ordered Claude and Angie.
Ignoring the girl's desperate twisting and kicking, his buddies pinned her ankles to the ground.
"Look at the fur on this bitch," Deek said huskily. His eyes drank up the lush growth of glossy hair at the juncture of the girl's thighs. His helpless victim squirmed under his gaze. "Get those legs up in the air and wide apart," Deek snapped at his henchmen.
Angie and Claude enthusiastically followed his directions, pulling her ankles slowly upward and back until her toes were directly above her soft, white shoulders. Then, just as slowly, they pulled her ankles wide apart, enjoying the whimpering and struggles of their victim.
From his position in front of her, Deek had quite a show as the boys laid the girl out for him. Staring at the lush triangle of the girl's pubic hair, Deek almost had the illusion that her pussy was some kind of weird, furry flower with a life of its own. As Angie and Claude pulled her legs backward and apart, the girl's vulnerable cunt turned itself slowly upward toward Deek's greedy eyes. The fleshy pink inner petals of the flower trembled and tightened, then slowly began to open, like a lotus spreading its petals to catch the rays of the sun. Smoothly, slowly, the flower split open until the petals stretched so far apart that the pink dampness of the girl's succulent inner cunt seemed to be pushing out between them.
Deek's thin summer trousers were soaked through by the hot, moist secretions of his desire. His penis felt like a banana that was three times too large for its skin. He had to have this classy little bitch-now!
Quickly he stripped off his clothing, enjoying the fascinated horror in the girl's eyes. Despite herself, she couldn't keep her gaze off his rigid, threatening penis. He laughed and tapped his rod with his fingers, making it sway gently from side to side. "Take a good look, you dumb cunt!" he snarled.
He stepped up closer to her upturned buttocks. His swaying penis waved back and forth directly above her abdomen now, and the fear in her eyes made Deek feel like the biggest damn stud in the world. Her eyes moved back and forth in time with his swinging cock, as if she were being hypnotized by it.
Just as he was about to come from the delicious sensation of the girl's fear and his own manipulations, Deek stopped toying with himself. His penis swelled for a moment; then the tiny slit at the tip of it opened, glistened wetly and spewed forth a few liquid pearls. They fell on the thick tangle of the girl's pubic hair and sparkled there in the moonlight.
The girl choked through her gag as the drops of semen seeped through the curly hair to the bare skin beneath. Although she knew it was hopeless, she renewed her efforts to struggle free of her tormentors.
"You don't like that nasty stuff in your nice, clean beaver?" Deek asked. "We'll take care of that!" He dropped to his knees before her and began licking at her warm slit.
That really drove her crazy! As she twisted wildly under him, trying to escape his obscene mouthing, Deek lost all restraint. He had meant to feel that tight cunt squeezing his hammering penis, but he couldn't wait for that now. He wrapped one hand around his bloated cock and began pumping it. His tongue left her triangle and attached the hot flesh of her pussy.
Jesus! She just about went out of her mind with disgust! It was all his buddies could do to hold her down. He twisted his free hand solidly in the hair of her triangle and pulled her cunt up firmly against his mouth. His tongue frantically explored her hair-lined vagina, probing deep within her, licking up and down the length of her slit. His teeth nipped sharply at her clitoris. The desperate girl alternated between rolling her hips away from his demanding mouth, which only increased his excitement, and pushing her vagina back into his face as he punished her by twisting and pulling viciously at her pubic hair.
He pumped his swollen penis with jackhammer speed now, sucking loudly on her clitoris and biting her soft, fleshy labia. His four companions were breathing heavily themselves, just watching him. But Angie was too excited to be content with watching! Retaining his grip on the girl's ankle, he opened his fly and pulled her calf up tightly against his naked cock. Her leg squirmed wildly against the rigid member as she struggled to escape Deek's lewd tongue, and the harder she fought, the closer she brought Angie to his own climax.
Suddenly Deek lifted his mouth from the girl's dampened mound, gave one loud gasp and straightened up on his knees. Like some nightmare fire hose, his cock began pumping out its load onto the girl, spewing out a sporadic stream that reached clear to her breasts. Twitch ... twitch ... twitch ... With each spasm, more of the sticky cum gushed onto her naked body, defiling her breasts, her belly, her pubic mound. Angie had reached his peak, too, and was grinding her bare leg urgently against his penis while it gushed forth its hot liquid sperm. It trickled down the length of her leg and soaked into the grass, which cushioned her naked buttocks.
Even though the girl hadn't technically been raped yet, her will to resist was gone. She had already been soiled beyond anything she could ever have imagined, despite the fact that her virginity was still temporarily intact. Tears streaked her face, and she sobbed through her gag. The fight had utterly gone out of her. Of course, no one paid any attention to the breaking of the girl's spirit. The guys all had their minds on the fun that was still in store for them.
"C'mon, Deek, trade places with me," Claude said. Deek responded like a robot, rising mechanically and taking over Claude's hold on the young blonde's ankle. Claude took Deek's place at her buttocks, going down on his knees but keeping his back straight. Hurriedly he pushed his trousers down around his knees; then his rigid penis was bobbing stiffly in the gentle night breezes.
"All right," he said, "life her up in the air and slide her onto this." Lifting the girl by her wrists and ankles so she hung in the air like a giant, limp U, his friends impaled her on Claude's thick pecker. "Ahhhh," he moaned as he forced his swollen penis into the tight sleeve of her virginal cunt. "Jesus, she's tight! If Deek hadn't lubricated her, I don't think I could get it in. You guys start moving her around."
His buddies pulled the girl's slack-limbed body away from him until it seemed his rod would slip entirely out of that sweet young pussy; then they swung her brutally back into him, her buttocks making a meaty, slapping sound as they smacked against Claude's thighs. The punk groaned with the sheer pleasure of feeling his shaft plunged to the hilt between the legs of his innocent victim. He could feel the fleshy lips of her cunt flatten wetly against the coarse mat of his pubic hair.
His friends were sliding the girl rapidly up and down the length of his lust-stiffened penis, and it was a weird, wild sensation, something that fell somewhere between fucking and masturbation. The loss of her virginity was bringing feeble, muffled protests from the girl, but her resistance was more like the half-conscious stirrings of someone being unwillingly wakened from sleep than the struggles of a girl being raped. She was a pretty dead piece of ass, and that made Claude mad.
Brutally, hoping to break through the fog shrouding the girl's mind, Claude rammed a finger deep into her rectum. Probing and twisting with savage joy, he forced the finger into the tender, innermost recesses of her bowels. That woke her up all right! Her anguished screams were audible even through her gag. She twisted her naked buttocks wildly from side to side, trying to escape the tormenting finger, as Claude's buddies continued riding her up and down the length of his pulsing cock. Claude's breathing was labored. His eyes were glazed. Sweat poured from his body.
Then, suddenly, his penis was surging, squeezing his hot white sperm out into the unwilling receptacle of the girl's vagina. "I'm coming!" he cried out, ramming his finger up into the girl's anus with all his strength, so viciously that her body straightened out convulsively despite the restraining hands on her ankles and wrists. The spasm pulled her inner cunt tight around his distended rod, sucking in time with his climax and involuntarily milking his bloated testicles of their load. He felt as if he could fill a quart bottle with his cum, and she was the bottle!
He shot into her until the sticky semen was running out around the hilt of his shaft, escaping the tight seal her cuntlips formed. The cum dripped down onto his hairy scrotum and drenched his inner thighs. Then, with one final, grinding thrust, he was finished with her. As he pulled his thoroughly drained penis from the ravaged socket between her legs, it made a soft, wet, plopping noise that was plainly audible in the strained silence. The guys who hadn't had theirs yet were more than ready.
"Hey, Crazy," Claude said to his feeble-minded buddy, "give it to her in the asshole. She likes it in the asshole."
Crazy took Claude at his word. Sitting on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him, he had the guys lower the girl onto his enormous rod. Her back was to him, and she sagged limply forward in his arms. Shock, and the loosening effect of Claude's finger, saved her from what otherwise would have been unbearable pain as Crazy's rigid organ squeezed through the rubbery ring of her anus. Nick and Angie were holding her by the arms, but it was only to balance her on Crazy's pecker. She wasn't fighting. She didn't even seem aware of what was happening to her.
"Light me a cigarette," Crazy whispered huskily.
Claude handed the lit cigarette to Crazy. Crazy took the cigarette in one hand and reached the other around in front of the girl, gripping her by the ample handle of one soft breast. Squeezing the captured breast viciously, so that the succulent flesh stood out in painful ridges between his splayed fingers, he pulled downward, forcing her mound and buttocks tightly against him. She didn't even whimper!
Smiling cruelly, Crazy touched the glowing end of the cigarette to the girl's vulnerable bare buttocks. The effect was electric! His tortured victim squirmed like an earthworm in a frying pan! Each time he applied the cigarette, every muscle in her body went rigid with pain. Her rectum would contract around Crazy's huge penis like a giant pulpy fist, and she'd wriggle her ass so wildly that his pleasure was almost unbearable. It didn't take him long to finish and push her off him like a broken doll.
It went on like that for hours. Nick made her take it in the mouth. Deek got himself a regular piece of ass. Everyone had plenty of ideas for the girl. Before they had at last finished with her, and after someone had the idea of forcing her to smoke a couple of marijuana cigarettes, she had even begun to respond to her rapists. At least her body responded. Her mind was somewhere else. There must have been an ocean of cum sloshing around in her soft ivory belly, and her eyes were vacant, but she wrapped her legs around each new stud who mounted her and worked her hips up against him in frenzied rhythm.
"After this," Deek had said when they finished with her, "either she'll never want another cock or she'll turn into a regular fucking machine."
The guys had all laughed.
Yeah, that had been some good time, and now Deek was about to have himself another party. The blonde sitting on the park bench looked as if she might ball him and Claude even better than that last one, and this time it wouldn't be so long between turns!
The girl on the bench was looking impatiently at her watch now. She must be waiting for someone. Sure. Why else would a beautiful broad like her be sitting all alone in a deserted park? Well, Deek would give it a few more minutes to make sure her boy friend didn't show up; then he would move in for the kill.
Sitting there with no one to talk to, Kathy was getting bored. She and Halloran had been working this spot for two hours now and still hadn't had a nibble. She might as well give it up and move to another area of the park. Halloran would leave his hiding place in the bushes and follow her on a parallel course, being damned careful to stay out of sight. All she had to worry about was making her move look good, just in case someone was watching her after all. The was the key to a successful trap safely executed; you always had to behave as if the trap were about to be sprung, even though you knew that ninety-nine times out of a hundred your prey never showed.
She spent a few minutes looking up and down the walk that passed in front of her bench, being careful to look like an angry young lady who has been stood up, and she threw in a few impatient glances at her watch for good measure. Then she got to her feet, thankful once again that this job called for her to dress like a coed instead of in the more usual prostitute outfit, and paced back and forth in front of the bench.
Finally, she stamped one foot on the ground, a rather good touch really, and started off down the walk. She knew Halloran was keeping pace with her, but he betrayed no movement even to her trained eye. He was good, really good! She wondered if he appreciated that foot-stamping bit of hers.
If Kathy hadn't let her mind wander to Halloran, she might have been more leery of the dark clump of evergreens just in front of her. The walk curved around it, out of the light into inpenetrable shadows. As she walked into the blackness there, she heard a slight scuffling noise behind her. Too late, she realized her error!
A cord of some kind looped over her neck from behind and was instantly pulled so tight that she saw only blackness, and her knees buckled. The person holding the cord pulled her back toward the evergreens while someone else lifted her legs by the ankles and helped to carry her. Then she was down on her back, and the person at her feet seized the hem of her skirt and, in one quick motion, pushed her skirt and blouse up beneath her breasts. A hand hooked in the waistband of her panties and yanked savagely downward, shredding the sheer material like tissue paper.
Kathy was naked from the breasts down, feeling the cool night air snuffing through her pubic hair, and it had happened so fast she hadn't even managed a wiggle of resistance! The one who had stripped her grabbed her ankles and levered her legs high back in the air and wide apart. A voracious mouth fastened itself on her slit, sucking, licking, nibbling at her clitoris. The shock of the degrading assault was like a bucket of ice water being thrown on the young policewoman. She had to fight back the way they'd taught her at the academy!
But at the academy no one had ever looped a cord around her neck and expertly tightened it until she was too weak to move though still conscious, and certainly no one had ever pinned her with a hold as humiliating or as effective as the grip now on her ankles. There was something else, too. The lascivious lickings of the grunting man whose face was plunged into her crotch was having some sort of strange effect on her! A tingling sensation was racing up through the warm channel of her vagina and spreading to her softly rounded belly. It was as if her will to resist were being sucked out of her body, and she found herself thinking less of her attacker than the sensations his greedy mouth was bringing to her. There was something she should remember. Something nice. Something that was important. Something ... something ... SOMETHING!
"You filthy little punks!" It was Halloran's voice that snapped Kathy back to reality. There was a heavy thud followed by a crunching noise-shoe leather crunching into a face-and the cord around Kathy's neck loosened.
As the fresh air rushed at last into her tortured lungs, her senses began to return. From the scuffling noises and grunts above her head, she knew that Halloran hadn't been satisfied with giving the punk one good kick in the face-he was busting the creep up good.
Her legs were finally released by the other thug as he threw off the paralysis caused by the shock of Halloran's sudden appearance. Kathy could vaguely see the pale outline of his face as the darkness lifted from her eyes. He was crouched between her naked thighs and he was reaching into his-My God! He had a gun! She looked wildly from side to side, and her eyes fell on her purse. Apparently she had instinctively held on to it when they dragged her out here, and if was within reach! Her academy training took over as she twisted sideways, neatly scooping up her purse and opening it in a single, practiced move. Her free hand delved inside and retrieved her Police Special.
Then the muzzle of her gun flashed thunder, and there was just a bloody mask where Deek's insolently handsome face had been. A single shriek escaped the black hole in the center of that red smear, and Deek rolled over limply and was still.
At the sound of the shot, Halloran had swept his jacket open and drawn his own gun. He didn't need to worry about turning his back on the thug he'd been using for a football. That guy was in no shape to be making trouble for anyone. Instantly, the experienced cop took in the sight of Deek's slack body collapsing between his partner's legs. Kathy wasn't moving a muscle. She just stared down at the boy's ruined face, watching the ground under his head soak up his blood.
"Snap out of it, Kathy!" Halloran said brusquely. He was standing beside her now, holding one hand out to help her up. He was having trouble keeping his eyes off her nakedness, and his embarrassment made him speak more sharply than he otherwise might have.
Kathy's father was Halloran's closest friend, and the girl herself was almost like a daughter to him, but his bodily reaction to her exposed womanhood wasn't very fatherly.
His sharp command to Kathy helped her get a grip on herself. She could feel the cold, damp grass beneath her naked buttocks, and Halloran's futile efforts to confine his glances solely to her face made her humiliatingly aware of her exposure. Flustered, and not wanting to make things worse by acting too embarrassed, she got to her feet and straightened her rumpled clothing.
"Let's collect our other little boy scout," Halloran said, breaking the strained silence. He walked over to the groaning, bloodied Claude and hauled the young hoodlum to his feet. When he turned back toward Kathy she was out of sight, and he could hear her being loudly sick behind some bushes.
"C'mon," he said when she reappeared, "we've got a lot to do. We're going to have to call the meat wagon, and this culturally deprived child here has to be tucked in. There'll be questions to answer, too. There always are when you have to fire that gun."
He hesitated for a moment, avoiding her eyes, then added. "When all of that's out of the way, I want to have a serious talk with you."
2
It was quiet at Vic's. The late crowd had thinned out, and the combo was packing it in for the night. In another twenty minutes the place would close.
Halloran had guided Kathy to a booth in the rear when they entered. He was waiting patiently until the booths nearest to them were empty before having his say. Kathy dawdled over her food, wanting him to get to the point, and fearing that she already knew what it was.
Dave Halloran had been a friend of the family for years. Her father had taken him on as a partner when Dave was a green detective in his early twenties. The younger officer had learned just about everything from Sam Harper, and he almost idolized the rugged old cop. He had had a tough time, perhaps even worse than Kathy, in adjusting to the fact that Sam Harper was no longer the man he used to be.
The nightmare started with an almost routine incident, if it's ever routine for a police officer to kill, but ended by bringing tragedy into the lives of three decent people.
Sam had been watching the late show that evening. The movie wasn't very good, but Sam couldn't sleep anyway. He concentrated on looking for familiar faces in the ancient grade Z movie, an old trick of his for bringing some kind of interest to a poor film. During one of the frequent, and seemingly interminable, commercials, he found that the cigarette pack in his shirt pocket was empty.
Well, there was only one thing to do. With the resignation so familiar to any incorrigible smoker who has ever run out of cigarettes at an inconvenient hour, Sam rose wearily from his comfortable chair. He threw on a jacket and, out of long habit, shoved his revolver in his belt.
The gas station was still open when he got there, but he didn't see the attendant. "Hey, Fred!" he yelled, assuming the man was probably in the John. "Hey, Fred! I'm out of smokes!"
The attendant was in the John all right, but he was out cold. A young gunman stood over him. At the sound of Sam's voice, the hood came crashing out of the rest room. His gun, held waist high, pointed toward Sam. What he intended to do with it, Sam would never know.
Before the robber's gun had come fully to bear on the experienced cop, Sam had already started his draw. His Police Special breathed fire and death, and the hood crashed backward, falling on top of the unconscious attendant. Before his criminal education could be completed, the punk flunked out permanently.
Usually, that would have been the end of the whole affair, except for a few days of the inevitable newspaper publicity. This time it was different. The young thug Sam shot had been the brother of Martin Buford, the biggest of several small gangland fish in Bay City.
Buford probably knocked down a couple of hundred big ones a year. He had a few guns working for him, and some influence with City Hall, but he was a long way from being another Al Capone. Still, he wasn't a man you made an enemy of for the fun of it. He had a vicious temper, a passion for squaring accounts, and a reputation for refined sadism that was the envy of every thug in town.
It was a mystery at first why his kid brother would need to knock over a filling station. Hell, Buford had plenty of money; and if he loved anyone, he loved his brother. The story of what had caused the boy to venture into small-time robbery didn't come out until a couple of months after the shooting.
It had been a thoughtless remark by Buford himself! The boy had always lived in his brother's shadow, envying him and idolizing him. There had been one of those unfortunate fights that are typical of fathers and teen-age sons (Buford was much older than his brother, and had raised the boy), and Buford had said some things that stung the young man's pride. The constant refrain of the argument had been: "What do you know about anything! You've never had to do anything for yourself!"
Young Buford had tried to do something for himself, and died in the attempt. Playing with guns is a bad way to salve a bruised ego, and matching the boy with Sam Harper was like sending a mouse to kick hell out of a cat. Maybe this was part of the reason why Buford hated Harper with such intensity, because his brother had died without a chance. Of course, if the boy had been straight, he wouldn't have needed to draw a soft touch in a gunfight.
Buford didn't see it that way, though. Right or wrong, his brother was dead; and Buford hated the man who had killed him. Even then, he might not have gone as far as he did, if it hadn't been for his own sense of guilt. Deep inside himself, he knew who marked out the route that the boy followed to his death. He knew who had put the gun in his brother's hand.
He couldn't face his own terrible responsibility, however; and that was why he needed to blame someone else, someone he could hate with a malice so intense that it blocked out the whispering voice of conscience. If Martin Buford had shot his brother himself, he probably would have blamed the gun. As it was, he wanted Sam Harper's hide; and even that wouldn't be enough to satisfy his lust for revenge. He wanted to destroy the policeman's soul!
Four months after the shooting, and just as Kathy Harper was about to finish her work for the Peace Corps, Buford had acted. Five hoods had taken Sam, and taken him good. It hadn't been cheap for them. One punk died with his larynx smashed in. Another was made so easy to identify that his own "pals" had pumped a slug in his head and dumped him by a country road. That still left three healthy hoods to work on Sam. He had gotten in his licks during the first few seconds of that desperate struggle. His attackers had all night to get even.
The beating Sam took had left him a cripple both in body and mind, and Dave Halloran had had the unpleasant job of breaking the news to Kathy. She'd never forget the look on his face when he met her at the airport, or the way he had talked all around the subject of how badly her father was hurt. He was acting the same way tonight, as if he had to tell her something that would be painful for her.
"Kathy," he said at last, "you made a bad mistake tonight. I had to cover for you with the Captain, and I've never done that before for anyone. I'm not against women being on the Force, and you know how I feel about you; but you're just not cut out for police work. Now listen to me!" he blurted out, seeing she was about to interrupt him. "Just let me have my say!"
He smiled at her, trying to ease the sting of his sharp words. "Kathy, you don't need to tell me that on paper you're a great little cop. I know you passed your tests with flying colors and that you made a big impression at the academy; but, honey, just as sure as your father is a born cop, you'll never be worth a damn. You don't have the instincts, and that's something no test can turn up. If you'd done your job right tonight, those boys would never have got to you, I wouldn't have lost my head, and that kid would still be alive-not that he's any great loss. You blew it in every way possible. If you stay with the Force, I'm afraid you'll get yourself killed."
Kathy quietly heard him out. She liked Dave too well to be angry with him. Besides, he didn't say anything that she hadn't already thought. "Dave," she said, "please don't try to talk me into quitting. You know I didn't major in criminology at college. I've never had any ambition to be a police officer for the rest of my life. I'd quit in a minute if it weren't for what happened to Dad, but don't ask me to give up my chance to square things for him."
"My God, Kathy! Don't tell me you've got some harebrained idea that you'll get Martin Buford for your father," Dave said, "Jesus Christ! He'd have you for breakfast! If you managed to become even a petty nuisance to him, he'd do something to you that would make what happened in the park tonight look like a picnic."
Kathy blushed at the memory of Halloran standing over her in the park, his eyes trying to avoid her revealed womanhood. "You don't understand, Dave," she said. "Let me try to explain. Buford wanted to destroy my father, and everything Dad stands for. But despite what he's done to Dad, there's still a Harper on the Force; and there will be a Harper on the Force when we finally get a conviction on Buford. I won't be the one to break him, I know, but at least I'll be a part of the organization that stops him. That's all I want, just to be a cop when the cops destroy that filthy hood. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?"
"No, honey, it doesn't sound stupid at all," he answered, "but what will it do to your dad if you get yourself killed in this job while you're waiting for us to catch Buford? Have you thought about that?"
"Yes, I've thought about it," Kathy answered. "The way Dad is now, I think you could tell him I went back to the Peace Corps. He's no harder to fool than a six-year-old, you know."
"I'm not so sure of that." There was something odd in Dave's voice, probably just his own doubt about whether loyalty to a friend demanded that harsh truths be ignored. "Well, anyway, I'll hold off doing anything about you for now, Kathy. But if you make another mistake that puts you in danger, and you're lucky enough to survive it, I want you to resign. Fair enough?"
"Yes," Kathy answered, "that is fair enough. Not quitting the Force is one thing; making you cover up for me like you did tonight isn't fair to you. If I blow another big one, I'll quit. Now if that's all, let's shake hands; then you can take me home."
When Dave dropped her at her house, the lights were already out. Since his injury, Sam Harper had given up his old habit of watching the late movies. Kathy rather felt like watching television herself tonight, but the sound might wake her father. She might as well just go to bed, she decided.
She walked quietly upstairs, taking care not to walk on that creaky step that was third from the top, and entered her bedroom. Without bothering to turn on the lights, she stripped to the skin, slipped on a shorty nightgown, and crawled into her bed. After several minutes of trying to sleep, however, she was still frustratingly wide-awake. Something was bothering her, nibbling at the edge of her conscious mind, but not quite getting through. What was it?
Kathy concentrated, trying to force the submerged thought to the surface. It was something about the park; not what Dave had said to her about blowing it; not a delayed realization of how close she had come to being raped; not even the horror of remembering how that boy's handsome, cruel face had shattered when the bullet smashed into it. What was it? It was something she had been thinking as she was about to pass out! The young thug had been licking at her, down there ... Kathy suddenly blushed. She knew now what she had been trying to remember while she was losing consciousness. It was something that the boy's oral assault on her exposed womanhood had reminded her of.
She had been a junior in college, twenty years old. She was dating Ted Starkman, an average-looking senior with a brain and personality that were far above average. In the three months that Kathy had known him, their lovemaking had progressed only to the mild petting stage. He would kiss her tenderly, almost too tenderly on some occasions; then he would stroke her breasts through the material of her blouse or sweater. There was nothing dirty in it. In fact, Kathy was usually less aroused than relaxed by his fondling. It made her feel cozy and secure.
Ted had never tried to go any further with her, though there had been one or two times that he might have. A few boys in Kathy's past had even been allowed to slip their trembling fingers inside the legband of her panties, but she hadn't allowed that kind of thing very often. She hadn't dared to! Each time a boy had stroked her virginal slit, Kathy had teetered on the brink of mindless rapture. If the boys she allowed to caress her had been more knowledgeable, she might have found herself submitting eagerly to their lust. Kathy knew it, and the knowledge made her cautious. But not cautious enough!
Her roommate had been out of town that weekend, and she and Ted had decided to spend Saturday evening watching television together at her apartment. Ted had been worried about graduation and the fact that he would probably be drafted for Viet Nam shortly after he left school. If he did have to go to fight the war ... well, he had a premonition that he wouldn't be coming back. He and Kathy had been talking about marriage, but he didn't think that that would be fair to her, not until the whole Army thing was out of the way.
On the other hand, though Kathy didn't know it, he didn't like the idea of her being single and free while he was thousands of miles away.
He trusted her, but he knew that plenty of guys would be after a girl as lovely as she was. He would feel much safer knowing that she was wearing his ring. After all, even the nicest girl could get tired of sitting at home; and after he had been gone for several months, she might find that she could no longer could picture his face or remember the good times they'd had together. Then Ted would get the inevitable "Dear John" letter, and Kathy would be gone from his life forever.
Of course, Kathy knew only part of what was bother him. She knew that he wanted to marry her but was afraid he would make a widow of her, possibly with a child, before she had even turned twenty-one. She didn't know that he feared he might lose her forever if he didn't marry her. Young lovers, probably wisely, do not discuss their doubts with each other. They're too afraid of spoiling the illusion of a perfect, selfless love.
At last Ted arrived at a "solution" to the problem, or so he thought. It was one of those strange, unreasonable schemes that young men dream up to win girls over, and to hold them once they are won. Like most such schemes, it had overtones of the "magical" in that how it was going to work was easier to believe than to explain.
Because he loved Kathy so much, and because he didn't want to take the chance of offending her, Ted had never tried to get her to sleep with him. Now it was essential to his plan that he do just that. He was sure Kathy was a virgin, though he really had no way of knowing absolutely; and he knew she couldn't simply take an affair in stride. No, if Ted could have intercourse with her, Kathy's conscience would demand that she believe it was because of her deep love for him that she submitted. A girl as sweet and innocent as she would never be able to face the fact that her body might demand lewd pleasures that had nothing to do with love. She'd have to think that she put out for Ted because he was the man she loved and because they were going to be married eventually, which would make it all right. She'd have to wait for him then, or admit to herself that she slept with Ted only because she needed to be laid. He was sure she would never be able to accept that, so she would wait for him.
Naturally, it never occurred to Ted that Kathy might have been screwed by a lot of guys already, that she might be stringing him along with a mere pretense of innocence. On the other hand, he also failed to consider the possibility that, if Kathy were a virgin, she might hate the man who robbed her of her maidenhead. Still another idea that failed to cross his mind was that she might not be able to go without sex for two years if she became accustomed to enjoying it with him. His plan just had to work, so it would work.
When Kathy's roommate went away for the weekend, it gave Ted the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He took a bottle of sloe gin to the apartment that night, and he was careful to be extra tender toward Kathy, knowing the effect that tenderness had on her. All evening he kept his arm protectively around her shoulders, frequently looking away from the TV set to feast his loving eyes on her. He held the gazes long enough for her to "catch" him several times, and he noted with satisfaction that she was responding to the stratagem.
Kathy was a little surprised that he had brought a bottle; but when he explained that it was to celebrate the ninety-eighth day since their first meeting, it made her feel warm inside. It was so like Ted to think of something like that. Although she rarely drank, she responded as Ted had hoped to his manipulation of her sentimental feelings. It was so romantic of him to have the anniversary idea that she didn't want to spoil it by refusing to celebrate with him.
Besides, the sloe gin Ted gave her didn't taste anything like the bourbon or vodka she had drunk on those past occasions when she took liquor. Mixed with soda, it tasted just like cherry pop. It couldn't be too strong. But her second drink was stronger than the first. Ted saw to that. The third drink was needled with vodka from a small flask he had had the foresight to provide.
After he managed to talk her into "just one more," he capped the bottle and put it away. If she passed out or got sick, his plan wouldn't work. "Kathy," he said, "I'm going to turn off the TV now. There's something I want to talk to you about."
She nodded her agreement, and he walked over to the set. Kathy didn't notice when, in addition to turning off the television, he turned the thermostat on the wall to its highest setting.
"Honey," he said, taking her face between his hands and looking into her eyes, "I want you to go with me tomorrow and pick up an engagement ring. I know you told me you didn't have to have one, but it would make it more official somehow. I promise I won't let you spend more than I can afford," he added with a grin.
She answered him by putting one hand behind his head and pulling his lips against hers. It was a long, gentle kiss. When she pulled away from him, her eyes were wet with happiness. "Ted," she whispered, "I love you so much it makes me ache inside sometimes."
"I love you, too, Kathy, with all my heart," he said.
He studied her lovely oval face for a long moment. Her skin was flushed from the alcohol she'd had. In the rising heat of the apartment tiny beads of moisture had begun to form on her forehead, just below the hairline. Her voice had sounded more throaty than usual, and her eyes sparkled with an unnatural brightness. It was time for Ted to make his move.
He kissed her, and she responded with a fierceness she had never shown before, pressing her lips tight against his own and flattening her full breasts against his chest. Ted kissed her eyes, the lobes of her ears, the smooth, long column of her throat, then covered her ripe, warm mouth with his. His hand moved to her breasts and began stroking them with a sure, gentle knowledge that quickened her breathing. When he pushed his squirming tongue between her lips, she accepted it eagerly, sucking and nibbling at the welcome intruder.
He began to massage her breasts more demandingly, kneading the fleshy mounds through the material of her blouse and bra. His thumbs sought her nipples and pressed firmly into the sensitive buds, grinding them back into the soft swells of her breasts. "Mmmmm, Ted," she sighed in his ear, "I do love you. I love you so much."
"And I love you," he said. He kissed her on the throat, just above the top button of her blouse. His hand glided from her breast to that button and unfastened it, exposing more of her sweet young flesh to his searching mouth. His lips burned a line of kisses down her slender body, following a path marked by the buttons that opened one by one beneath his nimble fingers. He kissed her again on the lips, and his hands moved behind her, feeling under her blouse for the snaps of her bra. He eased them open, and Kathy's lacy bra sagged loosely forward, dangling from her shoulders.
"Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... Oh, Ted!" she moaned rapturously.
Ted slipped an eager hand beneath her loosely swaying bra and renewed his lustful fondling of her breasts, devoting special attention to her tender nipples, squeezing and tweaking the pink buds to throbbing erection. His swollen penis bulged painfully against his trousers, the tip of it already growing sticky in anticipation of being plunged into Kathy's virginal channel.
Kathy didn't even notice it when Ted pressed his rigid organ against her, grinding it lewdly into her fabric-covered hip. All of her attention was on the skilled fingers that were sending electric shocks through her nipples. Ted slipped her gaping blouse from her shoulders and covered the exposed flesh above her loosely hanging bra with hot kisses. Gently, so as not to break the spell of her desire, he guided the filmy bra down her arms and dropped it to the floor.
Kathy could feel a tight, tingling sensation spreading from the juncture of her thighs into her soft white belly. This was getting way out of hand! "Ohhhh, Ted ... noooo," she protested, but he wasn't listening.
His tongue flicked out at one inviting nipple, and Kathy caught her breath with a sharp hiss at the pleasurable sensation. Ted sucked the rigid bud into his mouth and teased at it with his wriggling tongue, easing Kathy backward on the sofa as he did so. Now she was stretched out full-length beneath him. He ground his hips into her, crushing his distended penis against the cushiony warmth of her pubic mound in a fully clothed simulation of intercourse. His greedy tongue flipped her tortured nipple back and forth between his lips as he took still more of her satiny breast into his mouth, licking around the smooth-fleshed globe in wide, wet circles. He nipped sharply at her tender skin and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure/pain from Kathy's half-parted lips.
His hand moved to the three buttons that fastened her wrap-around skirt and freed them. Supporting his weight on one elbow, he lifted his hips up from her and carefully spread the two edges of her skirt wide apart, drawing the front of the garment across her legs and then letting it drop. His movements were so deft, and the lips that burned her nipples were so distracting, that Kathy didn't even realize that she was now stretched out beneath him clad only in her panties.
A shock rocketed through her as his fingers began .tickling at her vulva through the thin material of the panties. God, she hadn't intended to let things go this far! She knew she was losing control of the situation. Soon she would be past the point where she would want to stop Ted. "Ted!" she protested. "Ted, no! We can't!"
He covered her lips with his own, silencing her entreaties, and his palm flattened against her pubic mound, pressing and releasing with a firm pressure, making her want him. Persistently, relentlessly, his fingers squeezed against Kathy's cuntal lips until she was panting with involuntary lust and bucking her hips shamelessly up from the sofa in the rhythm of his caresses.
Ted began licking up and down the length of her torso from her breasts to her navel, tasting the saltiness of the thin sheen of perspiration that was very nearly the only thing she had on. Continuing his massage of her eagerly straining mound, he allowed his fingers to spread to either edge of the narrow strip of fabric that covered her virginal slit. He bunched the material together between his fingers and pulled it to one side, exposing her hair-lined cuntal lips.
Kathy gasped suddenly as Ted expertly searched out her tiny slit through the lush mat of her pubic hair. She meant to tell him to stop, but as he began sliding two of his fingers up and down the length of her cleft, she found that her lips couldn't form any words. "Ohhhh ... ah-ah-ahhhh...." were the only sounds she could force from her rebellious mouth.
Ted wanted to raise up and get a good look at her sweet young pussy, but he didn't dare. It would be too easy to lose Kathy if the tempo of his lovemaking were broken. Instead, he fastened his lips on her navel, burying his tongue in the tight little well. His hand left her steaming vagina long enough to quickly pull her panties down her legs and off her ankles. Kathy raised her hips to make it easier for him, her lust-driven body acting independently of her brain.
Ted's mouth moved downward from her navel, his lips tickling her curly triangle as they riffled through the wispy golden hair. He nuzzled his face into her mound while his fingers continued to tease at her quivering vulva.
Without breaking off the sensual contact, Ted slipped off the sofa onto his knees. His free hand found his belt; then his rigid penis was prodding the air. With his trousers and shorts now bunched around his knees, he began to stroke his own giant erection while his lips and fingers continued to arouse the trembling girl.
"Oh, Ted," Kathy gasped between her moans of helpless passion, "I shouldn't let you touch me there; I know I shouldn't ... but it feels so wonderfulll...." Her words trailed off into groans as he began to probe the tight outer ring of her vagina with his middle finger, revolving his palm against her clitoris at the same time.
Slowly, surely, Ted eased his finger into her tight passage. It was in up to the first knuckle, the second; then it was wriggling madly inside her now well-lubricated cunt.
"Aggggh! It hurts! It's too tight!" Kathy protested; but when he removed the finger, she found that she wanted it back. She had to have something up inside her, something that would extinguish the fire which blazed between her legs. She opened her eyes and saw Ted standing over her.
He had stopped his fingering of her hungry vagina not because of her pleas, but because he wanted to strip off the rest of his clothing. He was completely naked. His huge penis-larger even than Kathy had imagined one would be-stood out at an angle from the swaying, hairy pouch that dangled from the juncture of his thighs. The tip glistened wetly with fluid.
"No, Ted! We can't!" she pleaded with him. "I can't!" He was so big that he'd surely split her in two!
Ignoring her protests, Ted climbed back on the couch with her, kneeling between her thighs. Holding his face only inches away from her vagina, he studied her glistening slit for several seconds. Then he touched his tongue to the tiny red knob of her clitoris.
"Ahhhh ... ohhhh ... don't ... AHHHHH...." Kathy moaned as he licked and sucked at her quivering pussy. She couldn't believe that Ted, her Ted, was doing this perverted thing to her, subjugating her by the power of her own obscene lusts. The greedy mouth at her cunt was sending messages of pleasure to her brain, and she could feel the tight tube of her vagina contracting in the rhythm of his lewd caresses.
"Please, Ted, please ... stick it in me!" she cried, not believing the words came from her own mouth. "Oh, God! I need you inside me! PLEASE!"
He raised his mouth from her molten vagina, his lips twisted in a tight smile of satisfaction. The hair bordering Kathy's yearning cunt was plastered to her inner thighs by her own moist secretions, mute testimony to the effectiveness of Ted's lovemaking. She was ready. Jesus, was she ever ready! But Ted wanted her to start it, wanted to be sure that she would know later that she gave herself freely.
He rolled off the sofa and pulled Kathy down on top of him, arranging her so that she was squatting on her heels, her cunt poisted directly above his throbbing cock. Placing one hand under her buttocks and the other on her shoulder, he held her firmly in that position until she understood that he wanted her to remain crouched over him like that. Then he removed his hand from her shoulder and wrapped it firmly around his rigid cock.
He maneuvered the bulbous head of his penis between the pink fleshy lips of her slit. Then, moving his hand and hips in unison, he began brushing the tip of his distended prick up and down the length of her cleft, avoiding penetration of her narrow channel. Gradually, the strokes lengthened. His penis would slide wetly from the top of her slit to the bottom, graze over the thin strip of flesh separating her pussy from her rectum, and glide smoothly along the crevice between her buttocks.
"Ugggh ... ugggh ... ug-ug-UGGGGH!" Kathy grunted, sounding like an animal in heat, for that was what his obscene manipulations had made of her. She was frantic now with her own need. Why didn't he put it in her, drive his prick right up to the hilt in her aching channel? The sensation of his stiff penis sliding along the length of her slit and then between the cheeks of her ass made her feel as if she had one continuous slit down there, a huge vagina that was twelve inches long-and every inch of it was covered with raw nerve endings!
At last Ted stopped his teasing and allowed just the tip of his cock to nudge against the mouth of her vagina. Blindly, Kathy forced her hips downward, squeezing the tight elastic ring of her cunt down over the pulsing head of his penis, engulfing his wet-tipped shaft in a single movement. She'd always thought it would hurt the first time, but it didn't. She felt a sensation of intense pressure down there, but it was good, good! She had never known such sensual pleasure.
She moved her hips rapidly, sliding her hot little pussy up and down the length of his impaling cock. Her eyes were glazed, her breath came in harsh, rhythmic gasps, and sweat rolled off her body and onto his. Faster and faster she moved, trying to put out the raging fire that crackled inside her clinging cunt.
She leaned forward now, bracing her hands on Ted's shoulders, concentrating with grim determination on working out her climax. She could see his penis disappearing and reappearing between the urgently twitching lips of her hair-lined vagina. The copious secretions of her slippery channel oiled his shaft so that it glistened wetly, and his pubic mat was sticky with her lubricants.
"Something's happening to me!" Kathy screamed. "Something's happening!" There was an unbearably pleasurable, tickling sensation in her wildly contracting vagina and a feeling of increasing tension.
Suddenly Ted slipped one finger between the cheeks of her ass and pushed it into her anus up to the first joint. Her steaming pussy tightened reflexively around his pecker, and Ted poured the hot load of his sperm deep into her soft belly.
"That's it! Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!" Kathy screamed, grinding her hips down on his penis with all her desperate strength. Then her climax came with the force of a punch in the stomach. "FUUUUCK!" She cried exultantly, and fell limply forward onto Ted's satiated body.
He rolled her over on her back, kissed her tenderly, and broke the link connecting them. She lay there beside him, her eyes tightly closed, not knowing what to say to Ted after what she had just dons with him. She was so ashamed of the lewd spectacle she had made of herself!
Ted took her hand and confidently guided it to his deflated prick, still sticky with the fruits of Kathy's passion, and let his own hand rest possessively on her pubic mound. "I love you so much, honey," he whispered. He kissed her tenderly on her closed eyelids.
She hesitated before answering him, confused and ashamed; then, realizing that she couldn't just lie there with her eyes closed until Ted left, she looked at him and said, "I love you, too."
A few weeks later the semester had ended. Ted had graduated from college, and Kathy was wearing his engagement ring. He had been drafted and sent to Viet Nam. For a time, he and Kathy exchanged passionate letters, his often so personal that they embarrassed Kathy.
Then the Army sent a letter to Ted's parents. His hunch about never coming back from Viet Nam had been right.
After that, Kathy had concentrated on her studies, dating occasionally,' but never with anyone she was serious about. When she was graduated, she joined the Peace Corps, and for two years she had little time or opportunity to engage in anything but the job at hand. The mess with her father had brought her back to Bay City, but she still had no one special. Ted was the first man, and the last, that she had slept with.
Kathy had been in bed for an hour now, but still hadn't managed to fall asleep. The memory of Ted and of her first time with him in the apartment had aroused a tight, aching sensation in her lower belly. The grief of her loss had ended long before, but the need he had awakened in her young body was like a ghost that haunted her tormented conscience. It would rest quietly for a week, a month, sometimes as long as three months, and then, without warning, it would reappear. Relentless. Demanding. A power too compelling to be resisted.
Kathy would be at a movie and a suggestive scene would suddenly trigger a tingling at the juncture of her thighs. Or she would be reading a book and something in it, an erotic episode, or even a brief, descriptive phrase, would start a reaction that made her feel hot and damp down there. Once awakened, the desire would stay with her, night after night, until she at last gave in to it and relieved herself manually, bringing on feelings of overwhelming guilt.
In time, however, Kathy had adjusted her conscience to the demands of her body. She no longer wasted several nights on frustrating self-denial before the inevitable surrender to her sexual nature. Now she satisfied her need when it first appeared and then forgot about it until it returned. It had returned tonight!
She pulled the hem of her shorty nightgown up past her navel, feeling the cool, early-morning air wash over her warm vulva. With the sureness of long practice, she inserted her thumb deep inside her slippery vagina. The middle finger of the same hand stretched out to press against her puckered anus. Slowly, she began gently revolving her thumb inside her hungry channel. Her finger pressed rhythmically against her little brown starfish.
"Ohhhh," she moaned softly as she felt the mingled sensation of tension and relief her busy fingers were bringing to her eager vagina. Her free hand drifted down to her lush pubic triangle, and two squirming fingers sought out her stiff little clitoris, rubbing feverishly at the sensitive bud.
She was panting now, and soft, mewling cries of pleasure were escaping her half-parted lips. She dug her heels into the bed, pushing her pelvis up to meet the strokes of those glorious fingers, rotating her hips against her expertly loving hands. Lubricating juices seeped from her yearning pussy and warmly trickled down into her anus, easing the penetration of her finger into the dark recess. Sensuously, shamelessly, she wiggled the digit against the walls of her narrow rectum.
Under the lustful ministrations of her own hands, Kathy's climax drew inexorably nearer, like a fuse burning closer and closer to a set charge. Then the fuse was all the way down to the powder, and Kathy's volcanic cunt exploded with the fury of a nitro blast. Boom, boom, BOOM! The force of her climax twisted her cum-spewing vulva around her thrusting fingers.
BOOM! Kathy's bed shook. The picture of a sailing ship that hung on her wall fell down onto the nightstand beneath it. Broken glass from the shattered window of her bedroom tinkled on the carpet.
Good God! There really had been an explosion! Kathy's first thought was to see if her father was all right.
3
"The bastard! The dirty bastard!" Halloran didn't have to tell Kathy the name. She knew he was talking about Martin Buford. "Did you see or hear anything that might help us, Kathy?" Dave asked.
"No," she answered, "I'm afraid I can't help you at all. I was ... asleep when the explosion happened.
If Halloran noticed her slight hesitation when she said she had been asleep, his face didn't betray it.
"I rushed right downstairs and to the back of the house," Kathy continued. "Dad's room was the way you see it, practically nothing left of it. I broke down then, because Dad was in his room when I went to bed, and I thought ... I thought...."
"I know, Kathy. It must have been terrible for you. Do you know why Sam wasn't in his room?"
"He said he couldn't sleep, that his room was stuffy. He was sitting out on the front porch in his wheelchair when the blast came. It was hard to understand what he was trying to tell me after the explosion. As near as I can tell, he panicked at the noise and then tipped his chair over in his hurry to get to me for protection. You know, it's almost as if he were my child now, instead of the other way around. Anyway, after his chair fell over, he managed to get it righted again somehow; but by the time he managed to get back in here, I'd had a few bad minutes thinking he was dead."
The man Kathy was talking about, Sam Harper, might just as well have been in another room, He sat in his wheelchair staring at his blanket-covered knees, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. His body was still that of a powerful man, but his face now too easily mirrored his simple emotions. It was a child's face, reflecting a child's thoughts.
"Sam? Sam!" Halloran's voice intruded on the older man's reverie.
"Huh! What?"
"Did you notice anything, anything at all, before you heard the explosion?" Unconsciously, Dave let his voice slip into the tone he would use in talking to a little boy.
"There was a big noise. I fell down. My room's wrecked, Dave." It didn't sound like a statement; it sounded as if he were asking Dave to explain how his room had been torn apart.
"Yes, Sam, but...." Dave's voice betrayed no impatience, only kindness and sympathy.
"It's wrecked," Sam repeated, interrupting the question Dave had started to ask.
"Do you know anything about who wrecked it, Sam?" Dave asked.
"I didn't do it! Kathy, I didn't! I was out on the porch when it happened! I didn't wreck it!" Kathy and Dave exchanged significant glances. It was hopeless trying to learn anything from Sam. "It's wrecked," Sam said again; then he said no more. He was staring at his knees once more, retreating to his own little world.
"Lieutenant Halloran!" The two uniformed officers who had been checking the yard were back. The one who had spoken was obviously in a state of high excitement. "Lieutenant, there's a stiff in the bushes out behind the house! It's clear at the back edge of the lot, so we didn't find it until just now."
"Recognize him?" Dave asked. The men who worked for Martin Buford were well known to the Bay City police.
"Sure did. He's one of Buford's guns, and what happened to him is the purest case of justice I've ever seen. He's got a piece of wood as big as a tent stake sticking out of his chest. It's the only piece of debris that carried anywhere that far, and it nailed him dead center! He must have stood out there to wait for the big boom and got more than he bargained for."
"Any other marks on him?" Dave asked.
Kathy's eyebrows arched slightly. It seemed that Dave could have asked a better question than that. What difference did it make how many marks the body had on it?
"Well, Lieutenant," the uniformed officer answered, "he did have a cut on the back of his head. There's a sharp rock under him, and he must have cracked his head on it when he fell."
"No doubt." There was a queer, flat quality to Dave's voice.
Kathy was hardly aware of what happened during the next two hours. Dave and the patrolmen finished their search for evidence, the lab man came and went, and an ambulance came for the dead hood; but Kathy's mind was occupied with worrying about tonight's attempt on her father.
"Kathy?" It was Dave Halloran. He had stayed behind after everyone else had left.
"I'm sorry, Dave. What did you say?"
"You're going to have to watch out for Sam, and for yourself, too. After what's happened tonight, there's no doubt that Buford still isn't satisfied. He means to see your father dead, and he may even go through you to get at Sam."
"I know. You'd think what he's already done to Dad would be enough. He's crippled, and his mind is gone. In a way, it would be crueler of Buford to let him go on living the way he is now." Kathy's voice trembled, and she began to cry.
"Kathy, I...." Dave cursed himself inwardly. Why didn't he ever have the right words!
"Never mind, Dave," Kathy said, almost as if she were reading his mind. "I know. Just let me get a Kleenex and I'll be good as new."
She tried to smile for him, but the visible effort it required somehow pained Halloran even more than her tears had. He knew nothing he could say would be as helpful as just saying nothing.
"While you're getting that Kleenex," he said, "I'll put Sam to bed for you."
The older man had fallen asleep where he sat.
"The couch okay?"
"It'll have to do for tonight. I'll fix up a place for him in the den tomorrow. We've got another bedroom upstairs, but getting him up and down would be too much of a problem." Kathy smiled at Dave, this time without any pretense. "To think how Dad was always complaining about how stuffy his bedroom was! That's sure no problem now." They both laughed at the thought.
Dave walked over to Sam Harper. "Come on, Sam. Up and at 'em." He helped his former partner transfer from his wheelchair to the couch.
The old man fell asleep again almost instantly. By that time, Kathy was returning from the next room with a Kleenex. "It's time I was going," Dave said.
"All right, Dave. Thanks for everything. Oh, would you tell them downtown that I won't be in tomorrow?"
"Good idea," Dave said. "After all this, you deserve a day of rest." He turned toward the door. "I'll find my own way out. You start getting some of that rest."
Outside, on the front porch, Dave turned to make sure Kathy hadn't followed him to the door. Then, with the air of a man doing something he doesn't want to be caught at, he walked around to the back of the house. For a quarter of an hour he searched through the grass in the area where the dead thug had been found, seeming to examine it almost blade by blade. At last he seemed to find whatever he had been looking for, but something in his face said he wasn't pleased at the discovery.
He got up from his knees, walked up to the back of the house, and entered it through the gaping hole that now opened into Sam Harper's bedroom. He stood silently in the center of the room for a moment, getting his bearings. Suddenly a door opened to his left! Instantly, he froze, fearing that Kathy had caught him prowling around her father's room. Then, with a flood of relief, he realized that the "door" was only a full-length mirror that Sam had bolted to his closet door. A light that had been turned on in the next room had flashed onto the mirror's surface, creating the illusion of a door being opened.
Reflected in the mirror, Kathy Harper could be seen walking around in the kitchen. She was wearing a shorty nightgown. Dave was sure she wouldn't be able to see his reflection. He was in a darkened room, whereas Kathy stood in the glare of the kitchen's overhead light. He was tempted to try to sneak out of Sam Harper's rubble-strewn bedroom, but there was too much chance of making a sound that would attract Kathy's attention.
The blonde girl walked out of his vision for a moment, apparently going to the opposite side of the kitchen. There was the sound of a refrigerator being opened and closed, followed by the sound of another door and the clinking of glass against glass; then Kathy walked back to the part of the kitchen that Dave could see in the mirror.
She put a glass on the kitchen table and filled it from a pitcher she had brought from the opposite side of the room. Setting the pitcher down, she leaned far out across the table. There was a window behind the table, and a sugar bowl set on the sill. As Kathy stretched the last few inches to reach the sugar, she balanced herself on the ball of one foot. Her other foot rose gracefully off the floor until it was extended straight out behind her.
Part of Dave's mind, the detached-observer element that went with his job, automatically registered the sight: rising pale-blue hemline, flashing white inner thighs, soft globes of buttocks and the shadowed cleft between. These impressions were filed in a back corner of Dave's mind where he could retrieve them at will, but another part of his brain edited these imaged from his conscious perception. Instead, Dave saw only the vision of Kathy's womanhood. It was as if a hidden movie projector had suddenly filled the bedroom mirror with a single gigantic image of golden curls and labia!
Halloran's penis snapped to instant erection, arching into a fatly bowed, inverted U against the front of his trousers when the constricting cloth prevented full extension of the giant organ. The hypnotic, reflected vision of Kathy's fresh young cunt could have been no larger than one or two square inches in actuality and was exposed for only a few seconds. Yet, to Dave's fired imagination and heightened senses, it was as if he viewed it under a microscope and at his leisure.
Each golden filament of pubic hair was so clearly defined that he could have counted them one by one. The pink moistness of her inner slit, peeking through the soft plumpness of her cuntal lips, stood out six inches wide. Her clitoris, standing in cushioned safety within the warm mouth of her labia, was as large as a man's thumb. The vision remained on the mirror even after Kathy had turned out the light and left the kitchen.
When Dave returned at last to reality, he could feel that his penis, now slowly deflating, had pearled out a few drops of semen at its rubbery tip. For the first time since he'd been a teen-ager, he felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tear open the fly of his trousers, grasp his heavy rod tightly in his fist, and hammer out a solitary, relief-giving orgasm. Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the ruined bedroom and into the cooling air of the early morning.
He eased his car quietly out from the curb, still not wanting Kathy to know that he had been poking around the house. He was tired clear through, but there was still one more thing he had to do tonight. He had to pay a visit to Martin Buford!
Driving across town, Dave was only vaguely aware of the road. A white, pink and gold image was burning in his brain. At first, the vision of Kathy's vulva blocked out all else. Then, slowly, as if a television camera that had been in for a close-up picture were zooming back to show a larger scene, the sight of Kathy's cunt was replaced by the picture of Kathy bending out across that table. In his mind's eyes, Dave was back in Sam Harper's bedroom, and this time he didn't just stand there!
He walked purposefully up behind Kathy as she returned her foot to the floor. Without hesitation or doubt, he reached for her waist with both hands and pulled her scantily covered buttocks back into the bulging front of his trousers. Kathy sucked her breath in sharply as she felt someone's hands on her. Before she could make any further protest, Dave snaked one hand around in front of her and up under her shorty nightgown, grasping one large, firm breast. His other hand wormed its way between Kathy's thighs from behind, scrabbling over the lush hair and fleshy lips of her vagina. She struggled desperately against the intimate touch, trying to twist free of his grasp, but he only squeezed her breast more tightly and curled his fingers painfully into the tender flesh of her vulva.
"Kathy. Kathy," he whispered softly in her ear.
"Dave? Is that you? What are you doing? Let me go!" There was no fear nor anger in her voice, but she was still trying to squirm free.
Dave's fingers stopped their painful digging into her cuntal lips and slipped shallowly into the moist slit between them. Urgently, but with unexpected tenderness, he slid his fingers up and down the hot mouth of her cleft.
"Dave! Dave, stop it! I mean it! STOP!" A trace of panic was creeping into her voice.
His only response to her commands was to lean the weight of his chest against her shoulders, forcing her to bend forward until the upper half of her body was pressed firmly down against the table. Her breast was crushed almost flat against the palm of his hand, the marble-sized nipple burning into his flesh. His fingers were working more demandingly now in her slippery slit, stroking feverishly at the moist surfaces.
"Please, Dave. Oh, please ... no!" Completely helpless beneath his brushing weight, Kathy was becoming really alarmed now.
Dave eased his weight off her just enough to allow him to remove his trapped hand from under her satiny breast. Able to move more freely, he shifted his legs so that they were to one side of her defensively clenched buttocks, allowing his plunging hand still greater access to her quivering pussy. He removed his hand from the damp playground of her vulnerable cunt, and pulled the hem of her nightie up to her shoulder blades.
When he returned his hand to her slit, it was no longer to merely caress the borders of her channel. Two fingers searched for the opening of the tight sleeve of her vagina, found it, and plunged deep inside. "OOOOO ... ah-ah-AHHHHH! Dave, this is insane! STOP IT!" There was less conviction in Kathy's protests now. The pistoning fingers that were plunging in and out of her fevered vagina were stealing away her will to resist. Desperately, she twisted and turned under him. Her legs flailed wildly, kicking high off the floor. If she didn't escape those probing fingers soon, she would no longer want to!
Exhausted at last by her own futile struggles, she lay quietly under him, letting his invading fingers work their will in her warmly lathered cunt. Her breathing began to quicken under the sensual ministrations, and her thighs opened a fraction wider, as if inviting his touch. Soon she was panting in rhythm with his movements, inhaling through her teeth with a sharp hiss as his plunging fingers withdrew, exhaling with a soft moan as they smoothly traveled back up the length of her channel. "Ssss ... mmmm ... ssss ... ssss ... SSSSS ... MMMMM."
Carefully, Dave eased his weight off her, watching for any sign that she might again try to break away from him. She didn't even seem to notice that she was no longer being held down! All of her consciousness was centered in the molten core of her greedy vagina. Dave stood directly behind her now, his free hand resting on the table edge beside her squirming hips for greater leverage. In that position he had a straighter angle into the secret darkness of her womb.
He altered the rhythm of his assault now, withdrawing his fingers slowly from her hotly clinging vagina and then ramming them to the very depths of her belly, his palm smacking wetly against her perspiration-drenched ass. SLAP!...."Ugh!"" ... SLAP!...."Ugh!" ... SLAP!...."Uh-uh-uh-UGGGG!" Kathy emitted animal grunts of pleasure as his fingers thrust home, obscene evidence of the sexual frenzy that possessed her.
Dave pulled his fingers from her steaming pussy and quickly ripped off his clothing. Kathy was still bent across the table, soaking the cloth with the sweat of her passion. Her eyes, although wide-open, were glazed and unseeing. Her buttocks swayed eagerly from side to side, seeking to guide her tortured cunt back to those pleasure-giving fingers.
Dave's penis was so hard it seemed as if the skin might burst. He grabbed Kathy's arm and pulled her up and around so that she was facing him. With one hand, he gripped the smooth flesh of her ass, his fingers probing at the cleft between her buttocks for the rubbery brown ring of her anus. His other hand grasped his heavy rod and inserted it just inside the lips of Kathy's cunt. Delicately, tantalizingly, he brushed the engorged head of his cock up and down the length of her slit. The tips of his fingers pressed into her anus in time with the movements of his penis in the moist portals of her vagina.
Without any sign from Dave, Kathy lay back on the kitchen table, her buttocks hanging just over the edge. Soaked with the juices of her passion, Kathy's blond pubic hair looked darker now, plastered to her inner-thighs by her moist secretions. Dave gripped her ankles, levered her legs high in the air, and forced her knees back until they touched her cushiony breasts. His head dropped to the hair-covered apex of her thighs, and his lips pushed against her vulva, twisting from side to side in order to spread the fleshy cuntal lips. He began to lick and suck frantically at the vulnerable pink surfaces of her inner slit. "OooooEEEOOOH! Dave, no more ... please!" Kathy begged. "Fuck me! Fuck me NOW!"
He obeyed willingly. Releasing his tight grip on Kathy's ankles, he moved his hips in close to her widely open crotch and slammed his rigid cock deep into her trembling belly in a single savage stroke. He was so hot that it was all he could do to keep his boiling cum from bubbling out into her narrow passage immediately. He knew it wouldn't be long before his balls pumped their load into Kathy's womb, and it was obvious that she, too, would quickly reach her orgasm.
Her arms were stretched out on either side of her, palms down for better leverage, and her smooth-muscled legs sawed the air frantically, keeping time with Dave's hammering thrusts into her churning cunt. Suddenly she was twisting her fingers into the neckline of her flimsy nightie, as if the loose garment were choking her; then there was the sound of rending cloth as she ripped the pale blue fabric from her heaving breasts. Dave reacted instantly, clutching at the large globes, squeezing them so fiercely that the tender flesh bulged between his splayed fingers.
He rocked frenziedly in and out of her voracious pussy, feeling the puffy lips of her vagina twitching around his cock like a gently nibbling mouth. Faster, harder, faster, harder, he drove his ravaging penis into her with increasing fury. "Fuck it! That's it ... fuck it! Fuck it GOOD!" Kathy babbled lewd encouragement to him. "Oh, Dave! Dave! I'm coming! I'm COMMMMING!" Her cunt rippled convulsively around his rigid cock as her juices spewed forth onto his hairy scrotum.
Dave reached his climax then, injecting his hot white semen into her thirsty womb. His passion fluids mingled with hers, oozing out the vulva that was so tightly gripping the base of his penis, soaking his pubic hair with the sticky secretions.
"Shit!" Dave came back to himself with a start. He was in his car, and he had just had what might be called a "wet daydream." His shorts clung stickily to his thoroughly drained, rapidly deflating, penis. Furious with himself, he pulled over to the curb and cleaned up as well as he could with his handkerchief. When his anger diminished, he checked the front of his trousers for stains. Finding that nothing had soaked through, he pulled his car back onto the road.
As he drove, he thought. He realized with some surprise that he didn't have any feelings of guilt about the way his glimpse of Kathy's nakedness had aroused him. In fact, he even felt a curious feeling of elation. He had learned something important tonight: he didn't love Kathy like a daughter or kid sister; he loved her the way a man loves a woman. Realistically, he had to admit to himself that there was little reason why the discovery should make him so happy, for there wasn't much chance that a girl like Kathy could love a broken-down, middle-aged cop. Still, he made up his mind he was going to have a talk with her when the mess with Buford and her father was finally settled.
The Parrot's Beak had been closed only a little over an hour when Dave arrived. The night club was Buford's legitimate front for his more shady activities. He kept a luxurious apartment above the club, one soundproof room of which was notorious in local underworld legend. Nominally, it was a "game room," but the games Buford was supposedly playing in it were on the rough side.
Halloran walked up the stairs at the back of the club and began to pound on the door of Buford's apartment. The lights were still on, and Dave didn't have to hammer on the door long before someone opened it. The ugly face of Cleon Spivy peered out at him. "Halloran! You stupid bastard! What the fuck do you want here? Someone cross the street against the light? Haul your ass-ACKKK!"
The edge of the door slammed into Spivy's face, cutting him off in mid-sentence. He reeled back into the room, Halloran following close after. The hood put one hand to his broken mouth. When he took it away, his fingers were smeared with his own blood. He stared at the fingers for a moment, rage written large across his homely face; then he smiled grimly. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said. "I hardly ever get to squash a cop."
Moving with surprising speed for a man his size, Cleon faked a punch at Halloran's head and simultaneously shot one huge foot straight at the policeman's crotch. It was a simple strategy, but it had stood him in good stead in many an alley brawl.
This time, however, it didn't work! Halloran eluded the vicious kick with contemptuous ease, drawing his revolver as he sidestepped. The draw flowed smoothly into a short, brutal backhand, and the gun rapped sharply against Cleon's skull. The thug made a choking sound deep in his throat and fell heavily to the floor.
A door opened to Dave's right! He whirled to face it and saw Martin Buford. The gangster's left hand was at his hip, holding the corners of a towel that he had hastily wrapped around his loins. His right hand held a small automatic that pointed lazily toward the floor, but only because Buford recognized his uninvited guest.
"Looks like I missed the party, Officer." The mark was typical of Buford, his mocking politeness, his refusal to be surprised by anything. He looked directly into Dave's eyes, and his own eyes sparkled with what seemed to be an almost friendly amusement. Buford wasn't just another crude hood. He had style, and he knew it.
Of course, Dave wasn't buying the personality routine. He knew exactly what Buford was, even if it didn't show through the man's polished manners. "It might be smart to drop the gun, Buford," he said. "I'm already thinking how easy it would be to shoot you and rig up a good self-defense story. I'd hate myself in the morning, of course, but that wouldn't do you much good."
Buford smiled and let his gun drop to the floor. He was a handsome man and looked several years younger than his actual age of thirty-eight. He was especially handsome when he smiled. "I'd feel even worse about tempting an honest man into committing a sin than I would about getting shot," he said. He brushed a lock of gleaming black hair out of his eyes.
"Let's not waste time with games, Buford," Dave said. "You know damned good and well the smooth act doesn't work with me."
"Didn't I hear that line in a George Raft movie the other night, Lieutenant? I hope you're not going to start talking about 'roscoes' and 'torpedoes'." Buford's voice was mildly chiding.
"Stay away from Kathy and Sam Harper," Dave said.
Buford laughed. "My problem with women is usually getting them to stay away from me. Just in case this Kathy person should turn up here some lonely evening, do you think I'd enjoy her company?"
"You sonovabitch!" Dave shouted. He crossed the room to where Buford stood. "You're counting an awful lot on my being too straight to kick the shit out of you," he said. "Don't bet your elegant ass on it."
"Calm down, Lieutenant. I haven't done anything to your precious Harpers, and I don't intend to." Buford sounded less amused now.
"Sure, Buford. You don't mean them any harm, and your boy Sam Ellis didn't get laid out like Dracula tonight with a stake driven through his chest." Dave was pleased with the last remark.
Even the composed Buford couldn't hide a moment's surprise at the news.
"You didn't know he was dead, Buford? I hope you haven't been waiting up for him."
"Of course not," Buford said, "but I am sorry he's dead. He used to work for me ... or did you already know that?" His voice was heavy with mockery.
"Listen, punk," Dave said, "let me tell you in a way you'll understand. If you try anything else with the Harpers, you'd better be sure you've taken care of me first. If there's even an attempt to hurt them, I'm going to kill you. I'm not talking about proof, and I'm not talking about arrests. I'll kill you. If you're smart, you'll assign one of your spare thugs to protect them. Your life is going to depend on their safety."
"Do you think you can scare me with some cheap threats, Halloran?" For the first time, Buford sounded angry. "All you've accomplished by this is to start me thinking. How come you're so concerned with 'the Harpers' instead of Sam Harper? No one's tried anything with the girl ... not that I have anything to do with Harper's troubles anyway."
"I've said everything I came here to say," Dave replied.
"So you don't want anything to happen to that girl," Buford sneered. "I can understand that. Cleon has just happened to have been by their house a few times, and he says the young lady has many fine qualities. Perhaps if she and I could get friendly, it would take care of this trouble between Harper and me." He leered tauntingly at Dave as he said the word "friendly".
Halloran's face turned a dark, angry red, and he slammed Buford across the side of the face with the hand holding the revolver. The force of the blow knocked the gangster back against the wall and, as he bounced off it, Dave drove his fist deep into his unprotected stomach. Buford jackknifed forward onto the thick carpet, and Dave kicked him in the ribs. Then, his sudden anger cooling, he stepped back from the fallen hood.
"That's to help you remember what I told you," he said.
Buford didn't seem to hear him. He just lay there on the floor, curled into a defensive ball. He was wheezing and retching, but Dave suspected he wasn't as badly hurt as he pretended. In any case, it didn't really matter. Dave turned and walked out of the apartment.
As soon as the door had closed behind Halloran, Buford stopped making the pained noises and pulled himself into a sitting position. Hell blazed out of his eyes. "I'll remember, Halloran!" he said. "I'll remember all right!"
4
"A dollar says I kill him without knocking the bottle over." Bill Winslow's eyes were on a fly that was walking around on the mouth of a freshly emptied Coke bottle.
"Shit, Bill, maybe I'd take some of that if you'd do it blindfolded," Angie said.
Nick and Crazy exchanged knowing smiles. Everyone in the gang had learned from impoverishing experience that smart money didn't bet against Bill and his "lassoo". (That was the name Bill invariably used in referring to his unusual weapon, and the name was the only thing funny about the "Lassoo".)
It was nothing more than a six-foot leather boot lace. The ends had been knotted together with about three inches of thong left over, so that it formed a three-foot loop with a short lash at the knotted end. Bill could do magic with it! With the knotted end, he could demolish a fly or pick the eye out of an enemy's face, and those were only improvised uses. The real business of the "lassoo" was as a garrote, and Bill was an expert with it. He could make child's play of punishing an opponent armed with a club or knife, to the utter disbelief of any onlooker who had never seen him in action before.
If the other boys in the gang had only watched the young hood at work with the garrote, they would have had a healthy respect for it; but each of them had come up against the strangling cord in rough play more than once, and the actual experience of it had filled them with an almost supernatural dread. The terror of the thing was in the absolute inevitability of that choking loop being wound around your neck. One moment you might think you really had Winslow this time, but a split second later that leather cord would be pulled tight across your throat.
Snap! Bill killed the fly anyway, just for the hell of it. As he had boasted, the Coke bottle didn't tip over. It didn't even wobble.
There was a knock at the door. "That'll be Ellen and Terry," Bill said. It was his rule, which even he obeyed, that no member of the gang ever entered the basement room that was their club without first knocking.
"C'mon ahead," Angie called out.
The girls entered. "Well, how's it hanging!" Ellen said to no one in particular. She was a full-breasted girl and had glossy red hair that hung down her back almost to her buttocks. Her admiring friend, Terry, usually let Ellen do the talking for both of them. Today was no exception. While Ellen moved right in on the guys, joking and flirting with them, Terry hung around the edges of the talk.
Bill studied the slender dark-haired girl, taking care not to make his interest too obvious. Comparing the two girls, most men would have picked Ellen as the better lay. She had the big breasts and swelling hips that movies, TV and billboards all hold up as the ideal qualifications for a sex partner. However, a truly knowledgeable man would have seen in Terry's slender energy and nervous vitality the promise of action instead of show. To the man who knew his women, she looked as if she would be pure, sex-charged electricity in bed, one of those thin, quiet girls who change into screaming bitches in heat when a cock is sunk deep between their thighs.
Somehow, though, Terry had never lived up to the promise of testicle-milking pleasure that Bill saw in her. She was more than adequate in the sack, but she never seemed to let herself go completely. Bill, with his usual crisp logic, had considered two possible explanations. The first was that there truly was no secret ember of insatiable lust burning deep in Terry's womb. The second was that no man could fan it into flame.
Bill guessed that the second explanation was the right one, but he was sure that Terry herself had no conscious inkling of any Lesbian tendencies in her sexual make-up. He seemed to be the only person in the gang who had noticed that Terry always seemed to respond better in intercourse when Ellen was getting screwed side by side with her. He was the only one who noticed the tenseness that would build up in Terry when the guys gave a graphic description of how they had raped some girl.
This afternoon he intended to find out for sure if his suspicions were correct. If they were, the gang would have a little extra entertainment. "Everybody listened to me a minute," he said.
The other gang members stopped talking instantly. They were accustomed to obeying him. "Jane Peterson is coming here this afternoon." Bill tried to keep his voice casual, but didn't quite succeed. "She should be getting here any minute."
"Who the fuck is Jane Peterson?" Crazy asked.
"She's Miss Peterson, that student teacher in English," Angie snapped impatiently at his dull-witted friend. "Wowee, Bill! What's she coming here for? ... as if I didn't hope!"
"She's going to learn something from her students," Bill answered, "but she doesn't know it yet."
"How did you ever swing that?" Nick's voice was filled with admiration.
"Oh, you know how I am in school," Bill said. "I get good grades, and the teachers say I have such a fine mind. It wasn't too hard to get Miss Peterson interested in helping me to develop my potential. Shit, teachers are always trying to find someone they can help to realize his potential." Bill paused for effect. He knew the gang was already eager to hear his story, but he wanted to tantalize them.
"Well, go on! Let's hear the rest." Angie put into words that everyone else was thinking.
Bill smiled. "There's not all that much to it. I started talking to her after class, and pretty soon she was recommending books to me. You could tell that she was real proud of herself and thought she was making some kind of convert of me.
Anyway, we started getting together away from school-her talking good books to me and me acting like my mind was expanding with every word. But all the time this was going on, I was keeping up this disturbed-boy routine and getting it across to her that I wasn't quite sure she could be trusted.
"For a long time, I didn't have any particular plan. I was just looking for a way to get into her pants without her screaming to the cops. Then the whole thing fell right in my lap. She wanted to make a big impression on me that she wasn't, you know, like on the side of the authorities, so she admitted to me that she'd smoked grass a couple of times. I acted like I thought that that proved she was really okay, and the next thing you know she was smoking pot with me."
"Have you fucked her?" Angie's voice trembled with anticipation.
"No, but I had a hell of a chance one night. She was so out of it that she'd never have been able to put up a fight, and she sure as hell wouldn't have been able to tell the cops that I raped her while she was stoned on marijuana. But I wanted to save some for you guys, and she wouldn't be coming here if I'd screwed her. I did sneak a look through her window that night, and I saw everything the bitch has. It's as good as you'd imagine."
"Miss Peterson! Jesus! We're going to get to fuck that?" Nick asked.
"You bet," Bill answered. "You guys just follow my lead. Shit, she may even think the whole thing was partly her fault. I looked through her purse once and found some birth control pills, so you know she does some screwing. We get her turned on with drugs, and she'll probably love having it put to her."
"Serve the uppitty bitch right!" Ellen was well aware of how all the boys at school drooled after the young teacher. What Ellen, not normally jealous, resented about Jane Peterson was that a large part of her sexual attraction was based on her inaccessibility, a quality of which Ellen herself had a very short supply.
"I don't know," Terry said. "She seems like a real nice person to me. Maybe you guys shouldn't go through with this."
"Pass up something like her?" Nick's voice was scornful. "Terry, you gotta be crazy!"
Bill was the only one who noticed the tense excitement sparkling in Terry's eyes. She was sure as hell kidding herself. He'd bet she'd be even more disappointed than the guys if this didn't come off. Hell, she was always dragging gang-rape stories out of the guys anyway; she might as well get her cookies off watching the real thing.
There was a soft rapping at the door. At a shouted invitation, Jane Peterson walked into the room. "Hi, everyone," she said.
"Hi, Miss Peterson." Bill had a smile for her, and a covert wink for Nick. "I've told everyone how much you've helped me, and I've told them that I trust you."
Jane blushed. She was a quiet, rather shy, girl for a teacher. To hide her embarrassed pleasure at Bill's flattery, she busied herself with arranging her armload of books on the room's one table. "I've picked out some books that are good, but not as dry as some good books are. I thought I'd tell you about each one. When I'm through, I'll let you borrow the ones you think you might like."
"Hey, this is going to be great!" Angie said.
Jane's back was to him, and he was leaning far sideways in his chair, trying to look up her short skirt. A hard glance from Bill straightened him back up.
"Now, the first book I have is The Hobbit. It's very popular on college campuses, and I think you'd all enjoy it."
Jane warmed to her subject quickly, talking on and on about the virtues of various books. The air of tense expectation that hung over the room seemed to her a sign of rapt interest. She was describing the plot of Lord of the Flies when Bill brought up the true reason for inviting her to the club.
"Miss Peterson, care for a smoke?" There was a trace of challenge in Bill's voice.
"Well ... I'm not sure I want one just now," Jane answered.
Several of the gang members were already lighting up.
"Maybe later, huh?" In that brief question Bill managed to tell her that she was making him look bad in front of his friends. He'd told them that Jane was all right, and now she was copping out on him in front of the gang.
"No need to wait," she said. "I'll take one now."
Her students seemed more interested than ever when she resumed talking about her books. Of course, what she didn't know was that their interest was in the steadily increasing effect the marijuana was having on her. When Bill Winslow offered her a second joint, she accepted without hesitation.
"Let's see now ... where was I?" Jane's lecture had begun to ramble rather badly, though she wasn't aware of it.
Her soft dark eyes were a little too bright, and one damp curl of honey-blonde hair drooped down onto her forehead. She didn't notice when Bill got up and walked to another part of the room. His guess was that she really wasn't seeing much of anything. He took two yellow pills from his pocket and crushed them up in a glass of Coke.
"Miss Peterson, have a drink. You look warm."
Warm! Jane felt as if she were about to melt! She accepted the Coke and drank it down in a few greedy swallows. It didn't have much taste, but it was wet and sweet. She put her hands flat on the table in front of her and stood there silently, swaying gently from side to side.
"Let's quit fooling around and fuck her!" Crazy said. She gave no indication that she had heard him.
Bill winked at the other members of the gang. "Let's get undressed."
The excited boys scrambled out of their clothes while Jane continued staring at something no one else could see.
"Man! Look at all those peckers standing at attention," Ellen laughed.
Watching Jane getting slowly more fuzzed out while they all thought about how good she was going to be had thoroughly aroused the boys.
"You girls shuck, too," Bill said.
"What for?" Terry almost whispered the question.
"We can't all screw her at the same time," Bill answered. "And I don't think everyone will want to wait his turn."
The girls, too, stripped to the skin. Terry, as usual, seemed ill-at-ease about standing around naked in front of the guys. Ellen, on the other hand, was proud of her assets and didn't mind displaying them. When Nick reached out and playfully ran his hand through her auburn bush, she laughed and slapped his hand ... very lightly.
Bill ordered Angie to pull the old Army cot out into the center of the room; then he turned to Terry. "Let's see if you can undress her without her knowing it," he said.
"Why me? Why not one of you guys?" Terry's eyes were saying that she didn't really want to talk Bill out of the idea.
Bill shrugged his shoulders. "Only because you've got a lighter touch than any of the rest of us. It'd be a groove if we could get her standing there with her bare pubes hanging out without her knowing the difference. Look at her ... she's a million miles away."
The object of their discussion was still leaning against the table, her lips moving almost imperceptibly, as if she might be humming a song. "Nick, give Terry your knife," Bill said.
"Well ... all right." Terry's words were reluctant, but her voice was eager. She took the offered knife with a show of hesitation, and Bill noticed that her hand trembled slightly as she touched the weapon.
Terry walked to one side of the table, stopping just barely within Jane's line of vision. She stood there quietly, waiting to see any sign that the other girl was aware of her. When none came, she reached out and delicately unfastened the top button of Jane's blouse. A second button followed and then a third. In a few seconds the young teacher's blouse gaped widely open down to where it was tucked into her skirt. Terry gripped the blouse just above the waistband of Jane's skirt, intending to pull it free, but then thought better of the idea. There was too much chance of disturbing the older girl's drug-induced reverie.
Instead, Terry moved behind her. One thin hand reached out to the small of Jane's back and pinched at the fabric of her blouse. Gently, Terry pulled the material away from Jane's perspiration-soaked body. Then she pushed the point of the knife through the slack and slit the blouse open up to Jane's neck. Gaining confidence, she moved more quickly as she cut through the shoulders and down the sleeves of the blouse.
"Jesus Christ!" Nick hissed through his tightly clenched teeth.
The slender blonde's blouse hung in tatters from the waistband of her skirt. Her breasts swelled softly above the top of her filmy bra.
With increasing sureness, Terry continued to strip her victim. She cut off the three buttons that fastened Jane's skirt in back, catching the garment before it could slide down the girl's legs when the last button was removed. Then the knife flashed quickly down the length of the skirt, parting the flimsy material. Terry grasped one cut edge in each hand and spread her arms, revealing Jane's panty-clad buttocks. She leaned in close to the drugged girl, pushing the remains of the skirt free of Jane's legs, and let the useless garment drop to the floor.
"Goddamn! Hurry up, Terry!" someone said.
The shreds of Jane's blouse still hung from her waist, secured by a single button. Terry cut it free, and the blouse, too, fell to the floor. The room was absolutely quiet now. Jane still sagged against the table, making an incredibly erotic picture. Her body was long, lean, and tanned to a delightful golden brown. She wore only a bra, lacy pants, a garter belt and stockings, and her high heeled shoes. Somehow the shoes seemed to accentuate the scantiness of her clothing.
Terry put one thin arm around Jane, supporting the weight of the other girl's breasts with her forearm. She didn't want to take any chances on the teacher's drugged lethargy being disturbed by the sudden bouncing free of those heavy globes. She cut through the straps of the bra and felt an almost unbearable tingling between her thighs when the weight of Jane's breasts pushed down against her forearm. Eagerly, Terry slashed through the back of the fragile garment and eased the cups free of Jane's breasts.
They were perfect! Exquisitely shaped, with pert brown nipples that begged to be sucked, Jane's satiny mounds had been shielded from the rays of the sun. They offered an almost dazzlingly white contrast to the golden flesh of her torso.
"I'll take it from here, Terry," Bill said.
She didn't seem to hear him.
"Terry! That's enough!"
She moved away from Jane, and Bill took her place behind the young teacher. It seemed incredible that the blonde was still on her feet, as if she could sleep while standing. Well, it didn't matter if Bill roused her from her dreams now. Hell, he wanted her to show some life when he took her. He wrapped both of his arms around her, squeezing her breasts almost flat beneath his bony forearms, and turned her toward the Army cot in the center of the room.
"Huh-uh-uh-uh...." Jane mumbled in incoherent protest, like a person being waked from a sound sleep. While her mind still failed to grasp what was happening to her, her body struggled instinctively against Bill's rough handling. Following a blind, natural impulse, she twisted and turned in his arms, bracing her feet against the floor to resist his efforts to push her across the room. Bill stood still for a long moment, enjoying the sensations her fabric-covered buttocks created as the tensing globes squirmed against his stiff penis. Then he turned her around and began dragging her toward the cot.
The full-length mirror on the door of the room's single closet caught Bill's attention. With sudden inspiration, he abruptly changed his course, forcing Jane over in front of the mirror. The picture before him was excitingly sensual. The drugged blonde sagged heavily in Bill's grasp, her breasts pushed high on her chest by his constricting forearms, her legs splayed lewdly out to either side. Over the shoulder of the half-naked girl, Bill could see his own face leering evilly at him from the mirror.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, he plunged a groping hand down the front of her panties. His fingers riffled quickly through the lush curls of her pubic mound and wedged tightly between her thighs, teasing at her plump vulva until they insinuated themselves into the moist warmth between the fleshy lips. Methodically, rhythmically, he tweaked the succulent bud of her clitoris, smiling to himself as he felt it harden under his sensual touch.
"Oooooh ... ooooh ... ooooh," Jane moaned softly as the automatic stirrings of her sexual responses began to shred the veil of her drugged consciousness.
Bill moved his fingers up and down the length of her slit, moistening the tips in her slowly lubricating channel and returning relentlessly to her now throbbing erect clitoris.
At first Jane thought she was waking from a dream, one of those dreams. She felt wet down there, and her clitoris pulsed with the frustration of unsatisfied desire. Each beat of the pulse sent lines of fire racing up her vagina and into her soft golden belly. The lips of her cunt seemed to be rippling of their own volition, eagerly gaping wide and then pressing back together, sucking greedily at her engorged bud.
As the drug mists gradually lifted from her clouded mind, she became conscious of being touched by someone. Her aching pussy wasn't writhing by itself. It was being pulled at, pinched, caressed! Abruptly, her eyes snapped into focus.
As in a vision, she saw ... herself! Her hair hung in damp disarray; her eyes had a strange, wild look; and she was nearly naked! Someone's arm was around her waist, the hand out of sight beneath her lacy panties. The crotch of the panties bulged obscenely to accommodate the groping hand, and the sheer material shimmered with its movements. Distinctly now, Jane could identify the rhythm of those movements with the pulsebeats of pleasure coursing through her fevered vagina.
Disgusted by the lewd spectacle, she looked up from the juncture of her thighs and saw Bill Winslow smiling cruelly at her over her shoulder. No, it wasn't a dream or a vision. This was really happening! "No! Oh ... please ... NO!" she whimpered, but her arms and legs lacked the strength to move. Horrified, unable to resist, she watched helplessly as Bill removed his hand from her panties.
His fingers, moistened with the juices of Jane's own lust, hooked in the side of her flimsy panties and easily ripped the thin material down through the elastic legband. Bill was so eager that he didn't even bother tearing off the remainder of the torn garment. He just rolled the remaining legband halfway down her thigh, allowing him free access to her fully revealed cunt.
The terrified girl watched powerlessly as her soon-to-be rapist placed the flats of his hands on her smoothly rounded stomach. The hands moved purposefully downward, meeting at the vee' of her loins, and his fingers pulled at her vulva. "Oh, God! ... no ... don't!" she pleaded. The vile image reflected in the mirror made her stomach churn with disgust, but somehow she couldn't force herself to close her eyes or look away.
Now his demanding fingers were stretching the lips of her vulnerable pussy wide apart, revealing a broad expanse of glistening pink flesh. She couldn't believe that he was doing this to her! Bill had seemed like such a nice young man. But it was true! He was not only going to rape her-he was also forcing her to perform in this lascivious drama in front of all the others.
In startling detail the mirror revealed the engorged head of his penis pushing between her splayed thighs. He moved his lower body in even closer to hers, tickling the crease between her buttocks with his wiry pubic hair, and Jane could now see the veined underside of his shaft. The erect organ angled suddenly upward as Bill shifted his legs slightly, and the swollen head bumped against her widely stretched inner tissues. Like a blinded cyclops, the one-eyed member butted again and again into the exposed surfaces of her slit.
"Ohhhh ... ahhhh ... ahhhh...." Bill's earlier attentions to Jane's warm cunt had not been wasted. Despite herself, she could feel the throbbing pulsebeat in her painfully distended clitoris begin to pound more urgently. The combination of the sensual prodding of his penis against her sensitive flesh and the rampant sexuality of the compelling picture reflected by the mirror were doing their work. She could feel an agonizing tension between her thighs, and each touch of his bulbous tool was like an electric shock. All of her consciousness was now centered on the sight and touch of the penis her hungry vagina ached to swallow.
Suddenly, mercifully, the bulky head squeezed itself into the entrance of her tight channel. Though her eyes were open, for an instant she could see only darkness as the intensity of her pleasure threatened to overload her already strained nervous circuits. Then there were flashes of bright light inside her head and a rapturous explosion of sensation through the length of her eager vagina. Even Paul, the boy she was engaged to marry, had never awakened this mindless intensity of lust in her. How was it possible that she could respond so violently to this boy who had betrayed her trust?
"AiiieeEEEE!" It was a scream of primitive triumphant joy. With one sharp, brutal thrust, Bill had driven his rigid penis deep inside her hot, wet vagina, smashing the tip against her cervix. Her greedy pussy closed reflexively around the invading cock, trying to pull it still deeper inside her. She need him now, needed him to fuck her so hard it hurt.
Like a person hypnotized, Jane stared at the mirrored image of her own crotch. Her eyes followed the gradual withdrawal of his giant prick, and her yearning cunt mourned the loss of that beautiful hardness. Slowly, his cock withdrew from her hair-line nest until only the head was inside her. Her fevered pussy, acting on its own and yet paralleling the wishes of her passion-crazed brain, pulled together in a vain attempt to force his pecker back into the depth of her womb. The sight of the exposed, glistening length of his penis was torture to her.
At last he stroked back into her, savagely, viciously, the way she needed it. He sawed back and forth inside her squirming pussy, each thrust increasing her ecstasy and her need for still more raw sensation. The shock of each hammering contact brought her a thrill as intense as a punch in the stomach. The mirror was a powerful aphrodisiac, the erotic image it revealed firing her clinging cunt with desire, just as Paul sometimes excited her by whispering dirty words in her ear while they made love.
by some sixth sense, Bill seemed to realize what watching her own rape was doing to Jane. He moved his arms up under her armpits and locked them behind her neck; then he forced her head downward until she could see the actual sight of his cock rocking in and out of her, instead of the pale, reflected image. She could only watch in helpless fascination while his slippery penis flashed briefly out of her churning vulva and then thrust deeply between her thighs.
"Oh ... oh ... I'm coming ... I'M COOOMMING!" she cried. "Fuck it! Fuck it just as hard as you can!"
Instead, Bill pulled his desperately needed penis almost completely out of her.
"Tell me you want to suck my cock," he said. The effort of withdrawing from her was almost as hard on him as on Jane, but the difference was that his own mind was clear while drugs had subordinated her brain to the dictates of her molten pussy.
"Yes! Oh, yes! I want to suck your cock!" She didn't care what she had to say to him. All she cared about was getting him to finish what he had started.
"Tell me you'll eat another girl's pussy," Bill demanded. She hesitated, not so much through an effort of will as because the question confused her. "Tell me!" he repeated.
"I'll do it. I'll do anything you say ... but ... please ... make me come!"
Bill thrust home inside her lathering cunt. Almost instantly, he could feel his balls begin to ache with the intolerable pressure of their load. Then, like a giant damn bursting, he shot his hot liquid semen into her quivering belly. Jane climaxed at the same time, her twisting vagina seeming to crawl over his pecker like some monstrous centipede, touching him with a thousand writhing feet.
"Oh, Bill," she groaned, "fuck me. Fuck ... fuck ... fuck ... FUUUUCK!" After the final shriek of her orgasm, Jane fell silent. The rapidly shriveling organ between her passion-dampened vulva seemed to transmit its limpness throughout her body, and she sagged heavily in Bill's arms. Disengaging his deflated penis from her still-warm vagina, he lowered her to the floor. She lay there without stirring, her eyes tightly closed as if to shut out the shameful memory of the way she had responded to Bill's lustful attentions.
Winslow turned to face the others. Crazy was on his back on the floor, his legs extended straight out and as rigid as a toy soldier's. Ellen squatted above him, bobbing her buttocks frantically up and down, taking his enormous shaft deep between her thighs. Her long red hair whipped wildly from side to side as she pumped her hips in the same rhythm as Crazy's ragged moans. One white hand was cupped over her pubic mound, the outstretched fingers whipping her stiff clitoris unmercifully. Bill smiled to himself; he was right about not all the guys being able to wait for their turn with Jane. "Looks like Miss Peterson's little demonstration turned a couple of people on," he said.
"It sure as shit turned Nick on," Terry said. Her voice was bitter, her eyes muddy with frustration. "He bent me over before I knew what was happening, gave me four or five good hosts, then squirted cum all over the place when I was just warming up. You'd think it was his first goddamn time!" It wasn't like Terry to talk so crudely. She was really furious about Nick getting her started and not finishing her. Well, if she was frustrated, so much better for Bill's plans for her.
Nick didn't reply to her taunts. He just sat silently on the floor, looking embarrassed. His wet, soft cock dangled between his legs. It was obviously in no condition to be of use to Terry or anyone else.
"Angie," Bill said, "looks like you're next with the new cunt."
Angie didn't need a second invitation. He hurried across the room to the young blonde, his erect penis bobbing crazily with each step. He squatted beside the girl and rolled her onto her back. His eager hands tore at the shredded remains of her panties, which were still rolled up around the middle of her thigh. Her nylons and black garter belt, her only remaining clothing, served to accentuate her nudity rather than conceal it. Framed by the straps of her garter belt, the white band of flesh that centered on her golden-curled triangle stood out breathtakingly from her tanned belly and thighs.
"No more," she pleaded as Angie pried her knees apart. "Please, no more!" Her eyes were still closed, but her lashes fluttered with nervous agitation.
For a long moment the boy studied her fully revealed slit. The soft, plump lips gaped open, exposing the shiny pink flesh between. Without warning, Angie plunged two fingers deep into the exhausted girl's channel.
"OWWWW! You're hurting!" she cried.
Ignoring her protests, he continued stroking his fingers in and out of her already lubricated vagina. After the way Bill's wild fucking had turned her on, it probably wouldn't take too much to start her up again. He twisted his fingers madly inside her slippery tunnel, forcing them as far up as he could reach. His palm flattened against her clitoris and ground into the sensitive bud. That was her trigger all right. Angie smiled as he sensed Jane's growing desire.
"Oh, yes! ... Yes, yes, YES!" she moaned. His ruthless pummeling of her moist tissues had reawakened the fire that still smoldered between her lewdly splayed thighs. Jane hated herself for letting him arouse her this way, but her rhythmically throbbing vagina was in complete control now. God! How she wanted to feel the hardness of him buried to the hilt in her churning cunt!
Without further preliminaries, Angie hoisted her knees high in the air, bending them back until her large breasts flattened beneath them, and stabbed his rigid pecker deep inside her with one brutal thrust. "Aaaaagh!" Pain and joy were mingled in her sudden scream. Her entire body seemed to contract inward on itself with a spasm of pure pleasure, as if an electric shock had been administered to her. Her pussy gripped his rod tighter than he had ever felt a cunt, and blood rushed to the engorged head of his penis, sending a thousand needle points of delightful agony through his pulsing shaft.
It seemed as if hours had passed before her fiercely clinging vagina relaxed enough to allow him to stroke freely in and out of her; then he pounded savagely at her spongy-walled pussy, hammering his swollen glans against her tender cervix. He could feel his testicles swelling like balloons with the pressure of their hot white load.
"Uuuuugh ... uuuugh ... ug-ug-HGH!" She grunted beneath him like a rutting animal, pushing her open crotch up to meet each stroke of his pistoning cock. With surprising strength, she suddenly ripped her knees free of his grip; then her legs were kicking high in the air with each thrust of his penis, her toes pointing at the cracked ceiling. Her insatiable vagina began the automatic contractions of impending orgasm, almost as if it were trying to suck the steaming cum from his balls and into her hungry womb.
"I'm coming!" she shrieked. "I'm coming!" her legs wrapped tightly around Angie's waist, forcing him still deeper so that her thirsty cunt could drink up every last drop of his semen.
His buttocks twitched convulsively and, at last, he was pumping his white sticky fluid into her eager belly, flooding her, cooling the glowing coal of need that burned in her dark womb.
Then, too soon, much too soon, he rolled-off her still-straining body, his own selfish desires thoroughly satisfied. "Jesus," he gasped, "is she ever hot! I'll bet she could take on a horse right now." Allowing for some exaggeration, it was obvious that he was right. Jane lay on the floor beside him, panting and whimpering with need. Every inch of her skin seemed to be squirming with frustrated passion. Her hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them, grinding the nipples under her sweaty palms. She rolled her hips frantically from side to side, the motion rubbing her rippling vulva between her tightly clenched thighs.
"Let's get her on the cot," Bill said.
With Angie's help, he carried her over to the cot and placed her on it. Then he spread her legs wide apart, letting them dangle over the sides. Her bare feet rested on the dirty floor. Bill studied the position in which he had placed her and nodded his head in approval. She'd be nice and easy to get at for the next stage of his plan.
Her hands were still working on her full breasts, her body twisting in the throes of unsatiated lust. Bill smiled. "Poor kid," he said mockingly, "let me show you how to fix it." He grasped one of her hands and guided it to her gaping vulva, forcing her to rub her fingers against her stiff clitoris. After a few seconds of this treatment, he could feel her trying to pull her hand free of his in her eagerness to increase the speed and pressure of the caresses. He forced her fingers down to the mouth of her channel and thrust two of them into her vagina. Then he caught her other hand and guided it to her little red bud. When he released her, both hands began sawing madly back and forth between her thighs.
"Teacher's a quick study," Bill said. "It didn't take her any time at all to learn how to masturbate properly."
He turned to Terry. The brunette's eyes were fastened longingly on the slim white fingers flashing in and out of Jane's vagina. "Why don't you take over for her, Terry?" he asked.
"Me! Why would I want to play with another woman?"
"It's not for you," Bill answered. "It's for us. Nothing turns a guy on like seeing a snooty, cool-type chick like her get so sexed-up she doesn't care what's being done to her. I'll bet she never dreamed in her life that she'd get so hot she'd beg another woman to play with her."
The other members of the gang took in the conversation quietly. Where the hell did Bill come up with this idea?
"Well ... I don't know...." Terry said, but there was something strange in her voice.
Ellen looked at her friend quizzically. She couldn't understand why Terry would make such a fuss about getting her fingers a little wet. Besides, Terry sounded like a person who was trying to get someone to coax her into doing what she had already decided to do anyway.
"Shit, Bill," Ellen said, "I'll take care of the teacher for you."
"No! I will!" Terry said sharply. Then she tried to soften it by adding, "I don't want to be a wet blanket."
Even the slow-witted Crazy could tell that she wasn't being entirely truthful. Everyone was staring at her now, as if they were suddenly seeing her for the first time. Terry looked embarrassedly around the room and said, "I guess I might as well get started." She was trying hard to sound casual.
She walked over to the cot. Slowly, fearfully, she stretched one hand out toward Jane. Her middle finger slipped between the other girl's flailing hands and touched the sensitive pink flesh of the blonde's pussy. Jane groaned at the touch, and Terry pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. Warily, the brunette returned her fingers to the other girl's hair-lined cleft. Again Jane groaned, and this time Terry flinched, but kept her hand in place. She rubbed one finger tenderly back and forth over a small area of Jane's inner slit for a few moments, and then, brushing aside the drugged girl's hands, she began to stroke the blonde's erect bud.
"Oh, that feels so good!" Jane moaned. She opened her eyes to see which of the boys was touching her. Terry felt Jane's muscles suddenly tighten as she realized that she was being fondled by a woman, but the pressure of those gentle fingers that were stimulating her clitoris drained her will to protest. Realizing that the young teacher was totally within her power, Terry felt a sudden, almost painful, tightness at the hair-covered apex of her thighs. Always a quiet and shy person, she learned for the first time the joy of dominating another human being. She was shocked when she heard her own voice asking, "Do you want to feel my fingers in your cunt?"
"Yes," Jane whispered.
The other members of the gang were now completely absorbed by the strange transformation taking place in Terry.
"Put your hands behind your head," Terry commanded, and Jane did as she was told. "If you want me to play with your pussy, you're going to have to ask me." When the blonde girl remained silent, Terry removed her fingers from Jane's throbbing clitoris. "Ask me!" she snapped, and her eyes glittered with malicious pleasure at the desperate need in the other girl's strained expression.
"I ... I want you to play with my pussy," Jane said.
"Please!" Terry's voice cracked like a whip through the passion-heavy air of the small room.
"Yes, please!" Jane answered.
Terry squeezed three of her fingers together, crudely simulating an erect penis, and inserted them in the teacher's steaming cunt. She pounded them unmercifully in and out of the dark tunnel, enjoying the sharp grunts of pleasure/pain that each burrowing thrust brought from her helpless victim. Tiring at last of that amusement, she held her hand absolutely still, forcing Jane to heave her buttocks high off the cot, sliding her insatiable vagina up and down the length of Terry's stiffly extended fingers.
"She said that she'd eat another girl's pussy." Was that Bill, or only a voice in Terry's mind? No matter. It was a great idea either way. She swung one leg across the cot, then stood straddling Jane's head, her cunt centered directly above the young teacher's oval lips. Jane's eyes went wide with terror. She turned her head wildly from side to side, trying to avoid Terry's descending pussy, but it was useless. Terry's wetly open crotch ground into her face, moistening her lips and cheeks with its salty fluids. Her nose brushed ticklishly in the cleft of Terry's sweating buttocks. For a moment the brunette was afraid she would come from the sheer pleasure of feeling the other girl's face twisting desperately between her legs. "Lick it," Terry ordered.
When Jane failed to obey, her tormentor again plunged her fingers into the blonde's sensitive vagina. Terry smiled at the girl's automatic groan of pleasure and quickly withdrew her fingers. "Lick it!" she repeated, but not even the maddening demands of her tortured cunt could force the young teacher to comply with the obscene command.
"Damn you!" Terry screamed. She raised one hand high in the air and slammed the palm down viciously into the tender lips of Jane's pussy. The girl's scream was muffled in the hair-lined folds of Terry's cunt, but her legs went stiff with agony. Terry lifted her buttocks three inches above Jane's face, wanting the teacher to have to stretch in order to reach her.
"Eat me!" SLAP. "Eat me!" SLAP.
Jane craned her neck frantically upward; her lips and tongue came into frenzied contact with Terry's slit. She licked and sucked desperately at the musky cleft, fearing that cruel hand, and Terry felt her vagina begin to twitch in glad response. Indifferent now to what the others would think, the thin brunette leaned forward, her mouth eagerly seeking Jane's cunt. She licked at the hot, wet tissues greedily, and Jane's pussy-muffled groans of pure animal joy soon mingled with her own. Then both girls were coming simultaneously, drenching each other's cheeks with the fruits of their passion. Terry collapsed on top of Jane, exhausted by her lustful excesses.
"Come on, Terry, let someone else have a turn." Bill's voice didn't reveal the triumph he felt at having his hunch about Terry proved right.
The girl stood up, still straddling the cot, and clumsily backed off it. She looked around the room defiantly, waiting for someone to make a wisecrack, and was surprised to find that none of the gang could look her in the eye. Well, fuck 'em all! She knew now what it took to satisfy her, and she wasn't going to apologize to anyone for it.
However, the others quickly forgot her in their eagerness to sample more of Jane. She was really warmed up now! During the next two hours, she screwed as tirelessly as a machine, and all the boys had more than one turn with her. They were almost glad when she at last extinguished the fire that raged in her abused vagina. Even with a four-to-one advantage, they had difficulty keeping pace with her drug-induced desires.
They bundled the raped teacher up in an old raincoat for her trip home, her own clothes being ruined beyond repair. "Say now, Miss Peterson," Bill said to her at the door, "it wouldn't do for you to tell anyone about this. You'd have to tell them how you were smoking marijuana with minors when the whole thing started."
She nodded wearily. "I won't tell. All I want to do is get away from here."
"Sure," Bill said, "the sooner you leave, the sooner you can start making plans for next Saturday's visit."
She looked at him in unbelieving horror. "You must be crazy. I'm never coming back here!"
Bill reached out and cupped her buttocks with his hands, pulling her pelvis in tight against his own. Despite her squirming resistance, he slipped one hand between the buttons of the old coat and rubbed his fingers against her hair-fringed vulva. Soon Jane's breath was coming in short, pained gasps. She moaned softly, her eyes asking him a question she was too proud to ask now that the drugs she had taken had worn off.
Bill laughed and pushed her away from him. "We've got you now, baby. You're not going to be satisfied with any more of that prissy fucking from your boy friend after tonight. Shit, I'll bet if I squeezed those big tits of yours in class tomorrow you'd flop on your back and take on every guy in the room."
Jane was crying when she left the club.
"Jesus, I feel kind of sorry for her now," Ellen said. "What we put her through is awful rough on a chick like her."
"Doll," Bill said, smiling cruelly, "that was nothing compared to what we're going to do that woman cop who killed Deek. She deserves something really special."
5
"Dave! I think they tried to kill Dad again!" Kathy Harper's voice sounded as if she were very upset but, thank God, not hysterical. Though it was early afternoon, her call had wakened Halloran from a sound sleep. He'd pulled some bad duty the night before and had only been in bed a couple of hours when Kathy called.
"I'm sorry, Kathy," he said, "but I'm still half-asleep. What do you mean you think they tried to kill Sam again?" He didn't have to ask her who "they" were; he knew only too well.
"Well ... it could have been an accident," Kathy said.
"Tell me what happened, honey."
"I took Dad to the supermarket with me today. It's a little bother to take him along, but he doesn't get much chance to get out any more. When we were coming out of the store, I was walking behind Dad. I couldn't see very well, because I was carrying two sacks of groceries. All of a sudden I heard a terrific screeching of tires, and Dad's wheelchair tipped over backwards. He came tumbling out of it and knocked me down. Before I realized what was happening, this nineteen sixty-eight Impala whizzed right over the place where Dad and I had been standing. It made splinters out of his wheelchair."
Halloran sighed. "I suppose it could have been just some reckless driver, Kathy, but Martin Buford's enemies have more than their fair share of 'accidents'. I'm afraid this fits the pattern. Of course, they didn't catch the driver, or you wouldn't have any question about whether it was an accident."
"No," Kathy said, "they didn't catch him. I don't think, he will be caught, either. I didn't see enough to give us any kind of lead, and you know how Dad is. We were the only witnesses. I gave a report to a uniformed officer who was at the scene, but probably nothing will come of it." Kathy's voice revealed the strain she had been under during the past few days.
"Look, honey," Halloran said, "you just take it easy. I'll be over right away. You are at home, aren't you?"
"Yes, Dave, but I'm leaving right now. Still, I'd appreciate it if you could come over. I don't like leaving Dad alone any more than I have to."
"Say no more, Kathy. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Thanks, Dave. Good-bye."
"Good-bye." Halloran frowned as he put down the receiver. So Buford had called his bluff already. He'd hoped his threat to kill the gang leader if any further attempts were made on the Harpers might chill Buford's enthusiasm for revenge. He should have known better.
Of course, even when he made the threat, Dave knew that he would never be able to carry it through. Unfortunately, Buford must have known it, too. Thinking about it now, Dave realized that maybe, just maybe, he could force himself to kill Buford if Sam or Kathy were actually murdered. A great help that would be! If only he had what it would take to stop Buford while it could still save his friends. Dave felt lousy.
He'd have felt even worse if he'd known what Kathy Harper was up to. By the time Dave arrived at the Harper home, Kathy was already entering Martin Buford's office. The lack of good cop-sense Dave saw in her was leading her to do the one thing he had most warned her against. She had made up her mind to meet Buford head-on.
She didn't really have any plan thought out for their encounter, only a vague idea of showing Buford that further action against her father couldn't add anything to the completeness of his revenge. In fact, killing Sam Harper would be almost an act of mercy, and it would expose Buford to a needless risk of being convicted of a capital crime. That was the argument Kathy had framed in her mind to rationalize her purpose in calling on her father's enemy. The simple truth, however, was that she could no longer stand the pressure of living in constant dread. The terrible strain was beginning to tell on her, and she had to have a showdown to save herself from cracking.
"Miss Harper, I presume?" Martin Buford rose from his mahogany desk as she entered, and smiled warmly at her. He was a strikingly handsome man. "Please have a seat, Miss Harper."
"Thank you," she said. There was no sense in quibbling over accepting a small courtesy from him. She would cross swords with him soon enough over something much more important. She sat in the chair he had gestured to, a comfortably upholstered affair with wooden arms. She was directly across the desk from Martin Buford.
"I'll get right to the point, Mister Buford. Why are you so intent on persecuting my father? Haven't you done enough to him already?" Kathy was surprised to see that he appeared genuinely hurt by her accusing questions.
"Miss Harper," he said, "I don't know how to make you believe me, but I hope you will." He sounded as if the most important thing in the world to him was for Kathy to believe him. "I've got a very good idea what you've heard about me. With no witnesses here, perhaps you, you expect me to laugh fiendishly and gloat about my supposed plot against Sam. Or maybe you expect me to behave like one of those movie villains who pretend to be speaking hypothetically about a crime, even though they and the audience know that it's not mere hypothesis. Well, Miss Harper, I'm not going to do either of those things. I'm going to try to convince you that I'm not out to get your father."
"Then what are you out to do to him?" Although Kathy tried to sound hostile, her voice betrayed her confusion. His denial in itself wouldn't have surprised her, but she would have expected to detect a slight mockery in his voice, a sardonic glint of amusement in his eyes. Instead, he seemed absolutely sincere.
"Let's review the situation," he said. "It's true that your father killed my brother, but hasn't he also killed other people in the line of duty?"
"Well ... yes," Kathy answered.
"There you are. There are plenty of others with a motive as good as mine for harming your father. Miss Harper, I've never been convicted of a crime. I've never even been formally charged with one. Yet your father and Dave Halloran just naturally assume that I'm the only person who could possibly be trying to kill Sam."
"But you're a...." Kathy hesitated.
"A gangster, Miss Harper? I flirt around the edges of extra-legal activity, but I'm hardly Al Capone. I run an illegal gambling operation here in the club. Naturally I get angry when a man who would have collected from me if he won refuses to stand behind his losses. I'll have a man like that roughed up a little, but that's a long way from murder!"
"But if you're not the one who's after my father, who is?" Kathy asked. Despite herself, she found that she actually wanted to believe this pleasant, attractive man.
"I wish I knew. I'd turn him in; I really would.
You may find it hard to believe, but I don't think of myself as being an evil man. It actually sickens me to think that people like you and Dave Halloran believe that I'm responsible for your father's trouble."
"I don't quite know what to say to you, Mister Buford. This isn't at all what I expected." Kathy was thoroughly confused now.
"All I ask is that you give me the benefit of a doubt. Look at it from my point of view. There's no evidence at all to indicate that I'm the one who's after your father. Even Sam himself couldn't identify those men who attacked him. Isn't it at least possible that I'm not guilty?"
"Frankly, I'm not nearly as sure of your guilt as I was when I came here," Kathy said.
He smiled at her gratefully, and she couldn't help returning it. "That's better," he said. "I promise you I'll get someone of my own to investigage this. Maybe I can clear myself that way."
"That would be wonderful," Kathy said warmly.
Buford certainly wasn't the monster that Dave and her father had described to her.
"Oh, there's one more thing before you leave," he said.
"What's that?"
"I don't want to let you get away from here until you've been properly FUCKED!" Buford looked her straight in the eye as he said it, still smiling pleasantly at her.
Too late, Kathy heard a slight creaking noise behind her! Before she could turn, Cleon Spivy's huge fist slammed into the base of her skull. Kathy sagged limply forward and slid off her chair.
"Pick her up and carry her to the game room," Buford said. "It was thoughtful of her to call before she came here, so we could plan a proper reception." He loosened his carefully knotted tie and opened the top button of his shirt. "Halloran, you bastard," he said softly, "I wish you could see what's going to happen now."
While Cleon carried Kathy to the game room, Buford remained behind, continuing to undress. It was characteristic of him that he took the time to fold each item of clothing so it wouldn't wrinkle, even though he knew that a beautiful young woman was being prepared for him in the next room. Cleon would clear the racked balls off the billiard table, throw Kathy on top of it, and quickly peel off her clothing. Buford was getting an erection just thinking about it, but he still wasn't going to ruin an expensive tie by hastily wadding it up and throwing it aside.
He was down to his shorts now, and he had to pull the waistband well out from his flat, muscular stomach to get it past his jutting penis. The already tingling organ bobbed gently with each step he took as he walked to the game room, each bouncing movement causing pleasurable sensations to shoot up the length of his shaft and into his swollen testicles.
The scene that met him in the game room was exactly as he had pictured it. Kathy's clothing was in a jumbled pile beside the billiard table, and the naked girl was stretched out on top of the table. Her large, softly rounded breasts jiggled minutely as she unconsciously shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her thighs falling loosely open and revealing the puffy hair-fringed lips of her cunt. She made a tiny sighing noise, and Buford smiled at the sound. She'd be coming around soon, but not too soon for what he had to do now.
"Cleon," he snapped, "the needle."
His henchman handed him a hypodermic, and he held it up to the light, studying its contents for a moment. "When this stuff works its way down from her arm to her crotch, she'll have an itch that an army couldn't scratch.
Cleon laughed obscenely. He'd seen the drug at work before.
Buford gripped Kathy's arm tightly above the elbow to make a vein pop out. Then he inserted the hypodermic into her vulnerable flesh and emptied the virulent filth into her. Throwing the needle aside, he walked to the foot of the table and grabbed Kathy's ankles. Roughly, he pulled her toward him until her naked buttocks rested on the rail of the billiard table. Her hips were now slightly higher than her shoulders, her exposed pussy pointing up toward Buford's lustful face. Her legs dangled over the edge of the table, and Buford adjusted them to widen the distance between her splayed thighs.
Then he ran his hands up the inside of her legs until they met at the hair-lined portal that was their goal. Using the thumb and forefinger of each hand, he spread the pink lips of her defenseless vagina, revealing the tiny red knob of her clitoris. Holding her labia apart with one hand, he used the extended middle finger of the other to jiggle her sentinel of pleasure up and down, watching her face intently for any sign of response. Through long experience with the drug he had given Kathy, he knew it was best to go to work on her while she was still unconscious. True, no woman's body could resist the powerful effect of the drug, but her mind could. It was better that his intended victim wake up with her vagina already on fire and her body instinctively reacting to sexual stimulation.
Kathy groaned softly, and Buford increased the pressure on her stiffening clitoris, flipping it up and down with greater urgency, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until her moans came in a steady, rhythmic stream. "Oooooh ... ahhhh ... OHHHH...." Her moaning was a steady, monotonous wail now, and Buford could feel his testicles expanding with his own painful need.
He ran his fingers frenziedly up and down the length of her rapidly lubricating slit and smiled when her cries of passion grew stronger.
Expertly, he began to rim the mouth of her channel, using one fingertip to barely penetrate her, swirl quickly around and then withdraw. "Mmmmm," Kathy sighed. Her unseeing eyes were intermittently opening and closing; and with each movement of his pleasure-giving fingers, her unsupported knees were twitching spasmodically.
Buford smiled with evil satisfaction. She was coming out of it, and she was coming out of it with a cunt too hungry for any one man to feed.
He moved in closer to the table and, with a single stabbing thrust, drove his eager cock deep between her smooth-muscled thighs. "Oh, God!" she shrieked unconsciously, "that's it ... THERE!" Her legs jerked high in the air, and her ankles locked around his sweaty buttocks. Her hips churned savagely upward, pushing her demanding vagina up at him, begging for the hot white liquid that could put out the fire raging in her tortured cunt. Instinctively, she reached out to clasp his body close to hers, but her questing hands fell inches short of Buford in his upright position.
He laughed cruelly, and the frustrated girl let her hands fall on her breasts, squeezing the soft globes with a fierce desperation that made her erect nipples swell and redden between her splayed fingers.
"That's the ticket, you cop cunt," Buford spat. "I knew you were a girl who could take care of herself." He punctuated the remark with a lunge of his penis that had all his weight behind it, smashing the solid bulbous head of his cock into the yielding neck of her cervix.
Reflexively, Kathy's legs pulled tighter around him, trying to force him still deeper into her hotly clinging vagina, but his contemptuous words and the intense pleasure/pain of his brutal thrust had penetrated the veil shrouding her mind.
"Buford! Let me go, you filthy bastard!" It was as if her body had returned to consciousness long before her dormant conscience could be wakened, but it was wide-awake now!
"Let you go?" Buford laughed. "Baby, no one's holding you there. Shit, I'll stop if you will." He stopped his pistoning movements and withdrew his pulsing cock until only the head remained inside her tight channel.
"Stop it!" Kathy cried.
"I'm not moving a muscle," he sneered.
It was several seconds before she realized that he was telling the truth. He was no longer pumping his stiff penis in and out of her. Incredibly, Kathy was herself sliding her vagina up and down the length of his impaling organ, pulling him deep inside her with the pressure of her tightly clenching legs. Her hands were flattened on the table on either side of her, raising her off the table for greater leverage in screwing her crotch up to him. A wave of self-disgust washed over her. How could she be responding like this to a man like Buford!
She had to stop, but her rebellious body wouldn't obey the dictates of her brain. Acting as if it had a will of its own, her lewdly convulsing pussy continued its automatic animal response to the desperately needed hardness buried between her thighs. To make her degradation complete, Buford reached out his hands to cup her bouncing breasts, and Kathy groaned rapturously at his touch.
"Can't stop, baby?" he asked gloatingly. "Let me help you." He pushed her roughly away from him, flattening her tender breasts beneath his hard hands, and her shoulders fell back on the table, her head thumping the green felt surface. With an effort, he freed himself from her firmly clasped legs.
Kathy couldn't believe that she was actually fighting to keep her ankles locked around him, struggling to hold his rigid maleness inside her, but that was exactly what she was doing. Then Buford was free of her, standing over her and studying her as if she were some kind of laboratory specimen.
Before, with Buford deep inside her, Kathy had felt her crotch tingling with an almost unbearable ecstasy. The intensity of guilty joy that had vibrated through her hungry vagina then was a pale thing compared to the agony of loss she now felt. The moist surfaces of her channel were contracting, twitching together convulsively with their aching need. She'd lose her sanity if she didn't get something big and hard between those squirming tissues!
"Please," she said to Buford, hating herself for her weakness, "put it back in me." The words shamed her, but she was past the point of caring about anything but putting out the fire that crackled inside her painfully empty vagina.
"Get up on your knees and face this way," Buford said. A thrilling tremor coursed through his cock as he saw the awkward eagerness with which she obeyed the command. "Rest your chin on the table edge, but keep that sweet ass up in the air."
She responded so quickly that her chin slammed against the green felt rail, rattling her teeth.
He stepped in closer to her until his bloated rod was swaying just under her nose. "Suck it real good," he said, "and maybe I'll put it back where you'd like it."
"No ... I won't," she said in a weak, unconvincing voice.
He knew that she would, though. She just didn't want to agree to sucking him off, but if he leaned forward right now and crammed his penis into the humid cave of her mouth, he knew she'd start sucking. But then she could tell herself that he'd forced her, and Buford wanted to humiliate her completely, to leave her no conscience-salving excused for the perversions she would perform.
"Maybe you don't trust me," he said. "Maybe you're afraid I'll let you suck me off and then won't give you a good fucking in return. Tell you what, I'll fix it so you can get yours while I'm getting mine. Cleoln, you shuck out of your clothes and give Kathy a look at that jackass transplant between your legs."
There was a sound of rustling clothing in the room (Kathy hadn't even realized that she and Buford weren't alone), and then there was a second penis thrusting up under her nose. And what a penis! It made Buford's huge organ look pygmy-sized. She had to have that enormous cock! Eagerly, she reached out for it and was answered with a blow to the side of her head that made her ears ring. "Not yet," Buford said, "not until you do me that little favor."
Kathy's pride still prevented her from actually agreeing to Buford's demand, but her voracious cunt punished her for delaying its badly needed relief, increasing the tempo of its frustrated throbbing. The gigantic penis disappeared from her view, and for a few moments her torment lessened. Then someone was spreading the soft globes of her buttocks apart.
The flat, thick blade of Cleon's tongue suddenly pressed herself into her hair-line slit. There was no subtlety in his touch, no delicate probing with the tip of his tongue, no selective teasing of one sensitive cuntal surface after another. He used his tongue as if it were a giant snowplow, dragging it up and down the slippery street between her thighs, forcing the protesting curbs of her vulva to yield to it. Still, clumsy as he was, his lewd attentions were forcing Kathy to respond. Panting like a bitch in heat, she thrust her buttocks back at him, flattening the moist pink surfaces of her inner cunt wetly against his mouth and nose. "Ohhhh," she moaned, "oh, please ... you're killing me!"
A thrill of savage joy pulsed through her loins as Cleon raised his mouth from the hair-covered apex of her thighs and began forcing his huge penis into the tight sleeve of her vagina. The pressure of it inside her was incredible. She could actually feel the blood pulsing through the veins of his enormous cock as it pressed tightly against the walls of her channel. When he pulled back out of her, the agony of her longing was so intense that she didn't hear Buford's voice until he shouted at her.
"Kathy, SUCK IT!" This time, she gave up any pretense of refusal, desperately opening her mouth wide and taking the offered penis inside. She knew that her empty vagina wouldn't be filled until she obeyed, and she no longer had the strength to resist the demands of her body. Buford's thick cock stretched the corners of her mouth painfully as the engorged head forced its way through the tiny O of her warm lips. From behind her, she could feel Cleon squeezing his bulky cock back into the tight confines of her vagina.
Gradually, teasingly, both men eased their penises into her yielding body, filling her eager pussy and reluctant mouth. God! It felt as if they were both going to stuff themselves into her until their obscene pricks met in the defenseless center of her being!
Cleon's big rod felt soooo good in the aching void of her vagina. If only she could keep her mind on that, instead of the pulsing, sticky cock that was probing the warm, wet surfaces of her mouth. She had never tasted a man's penis before, not even Ted's and now she was letting her father's deadly enemy use her as if she were a cheap whore he'd hired for the night.
Cleon was through toying with her. He withdrew his stiff penis from her hot pussy until only the engorged head remained inside; then he hammered back into the slickly lubricated channel to the depths of her soft white belly. Like a man possessed, he pounded savagely into her salaciously writhing vagina. It was ecstasy! After being tormented for so long, Kathy's yearning cunt responded to his plunging cock with instinctive fury. It twisted uncontrollably around the rigid prick, moving up and down the length of it in rippling, convulsing waves that made Cleon grunt with pleasure.
She worked her sweaty buttocks eagerly against the bodyguard, his coarse pubic hair tickling at the tiny brown wafer that nestled between the widely stretched mounds. Reflexively, her mouth gripped and released Buford's penis in the rhythm of Cleon's fucking in and out of her hungry cunt, and Buford moaned throatily, saying, "Yes ... yes ... yes! That's it! Oh, yes, baby."
He held her head firmly between his hands, rocking her warm dark mouth up and down on his tingling shaft. The pudgy head of his cock scraped thrillingly against the hard, ridged flesh of the roof of her mouth, slid back into the delicious softness of her throat, then reversed the trip. "Mmmmm, baby," he sighed.
Kathy tried to shut the words out of her mind, to concentrate on the almost unbearable joy of feeling Cleon's penis hammering in and out of her spasming vagina.
The big man was still grunting with brutish delight as her tight pussy clasped and relaxed around his pistoning cock. He wrapped one huge hand around her thigh and groped for her hair-line slit. His thumb and forefinger fastened roughly on her clitoris, and Kathy screamed with perverted pleasure. She wouldn't have believed it possible to increase the intensity of the sensations coursing through her molten vagina, but Cleon's dog-fashion position hadn't allowed him to put any penile pressure on her sensitive bud. Now he was tugging firmly on her clitoris in time with each forward thrust of his huge cock, and Kathy was almost going out of her mind at the sensual tweaking of the pea-sized organ.
Oh, God, she needed cock! She needed all the cock in the world! She wanted to feel massive penises thrusting into every opening of her lust-driven body. She became suddenly conscious of every detail of Buford's prick as her mouth molded itself to the shape of his distended tool. She could feel the rubbery ring at the base of his glans, the tiny slit in the tip; she could taste drops of salty slime, which were already spewing from the pulsing cock. She let her tongue explore the thick shaft, pressing against the swollen veins of it, feeling the hot blood that throbbed beneath the leathery skin.
Buford instantly became aware of the change in Kathy's attitude from passive acceptance to eager cooperation, and he joyfully let her take the initiative. While he now stood still, she bobbed her head dementedly, curling her tongue around his penis with shameless abandon. At the end of each stroking contact, she paused to suck fiercely at the swollen head of his prick, knowing instinctively that this was the area of greatest sensitivity. The moist suction tantalized Buford beyond endurance, making his saliva-dampened penis jerk erratically inside her mouth.
He could hold back no longer. His achingly hard testicles swelled as if they might burst, and he felt his hot white semen explode up the length of his shaft and erupt in the humid cave of Kathy's mouth. Mindlessly, she lapped up the pungent cum, sucking the last drops from his rapidly deflating penis. Then Cleon gave a hoarse bellow as he, too, climaxed, pulling Kathy's ass back tightly against his hairy thighs, grinding his ravaging prick into her tender vagina, spraying the walls of her womb with his steaming juices.
Buford pulled his cock from between Kathy's suddenly slack lips as Cleon's final assault drew her attention back to her fevered cunt. She could feel the milky cum gushing warmly into her soft white belly and overflowing to run back down Cleon's shaft. The sticky fluid ran out through the tight seal of her lewdly clinging vulva, soaking Cleon's scrotum and drenching her own inner thighs.
Then Kathy was coming, too. "I'm finishing! I'm finishing! Oh, fuck! It tickles ... it ... AAAARGH!" She lifted her chin from the railing of the billiard table, bracing her hands against the green felt, and pushed her buttocks backward and down, squirming against him with the fierce strength of her sexual frenzy while her rippling vagina erupted in glorious climax. Then she sagged limply forward. She was unconscious even before her cushiony breasts squashed into the top of the billiard table.
6
"What did you think of her, Cleon?" Buford asked. He was opening a door in the octagonal end table that stood in one corner of the room.
"Huh?" It was not an infrequent form of reply for the slow-thinking Cleon.
"How was she, stupid?" There was no anger in Buford's voice. He removed two length of cord from the end table.
"Oh, that," Cleon said. "Jesus, but she's something. I ain't never seen a girl with such a hot pussy, not even those others you gave shots to. She must be taking care of every fucking cop on the force."
"I doubt that," Buford said. "She has a naturally passionate nature, but I'd guess that she keeps it suppressed. That's probably why she responded so incredibly when the drug opened the gate."
"What gate's that, Mister Buford?"
"Never mind, Cleon." Buford was rolling Kathy over on her back now, returning her to the position in which he had first placed her, her buttocks resting on the rail of the billiard table and her legs dangling over the edge. He looped one end of the cord around her ankle and passed the other end under the table. That end he tied to Kathy's wrist, pulling the cord tight first to remove all possible slack. He repeated the procedure with the other cord, then stood silently over the young blonde, waiting for her to regain consciousness. He didn't have to wait long.
"Untie me, you filthy creep!" Kathy's eyes were bright with hatred.
"Is that any way to talk to someone who's just shown you such a good time?" Buford mocked her.
"You contemptible bastard!" she spat.
"My, this is our day for doing new things, isn't it? First you fuck Cleon like crazy while you're sucking me off, and now you're using dirty words. I'm beginning to fear for your spotless reputation, Kathy." Before she could answer him, Buford crouched quickly between her thighs and plunged his face into her wetly open cunt. He lashed his tongue wildly up and down the length of her slit, varying the pattern by probing at the opening of her narrow passage or rolling her stiffening clitoris between his lewdly sucking lips.
"Stop it, you rapist bastard!" Kathy shrieked at him. "Oh, you bastard! Stop it! Stop ... oh ... please ... oh-oh-OOOOH!"
Buford felt a sudden thrill of savage pleasure as Kathy's protests changed to lustful moans. It would be a long time yet before the drug he had given her would wear off. In the meantime, her body would cooperate nicely in any perversion he forced on her, regardless of how strongly her mind rejected the idea. While she was fully conscious, he wouldn't be able to make her beg for his attentions-she'd even fight him if she were untied-but Kathy would be powerless to control her natural female reactions to his obscene caresses.
Even now she was beginning to wriggle her buttocks in involuntary response to his lascivious licking of her sperm-moistened slit. The cords binding her wrists and ankles bit cruelly into her tender flesh as she pushed her hair-fringed crotch up to meet each tongue thrust. "Stop it," she gasped. "Stop IT!" But even her protests, moaned in the frantic rhythm of his oral caresses, betrayed how successfully he was arousing her.
Kathy hated herself at that moment. God! This couldn't be happening to her again! Tears streamed down her cheeks unnoticed. Her fiery vagina was a living creature caught up in the fevered instinct of satisfying its own hunger. With a despair so intense it bordered on terror, she realized that she was only moments away from having an orgasm. Just a few more squirming contacts with that relentless tongue ... just a few more ... almost ... ALMOST....
Buford timed it perfectly, breaking off his oral stimulation of her writhing pussy only a pulsebeat short of bringing her to a full and explosive climax. He leaned out over the table above her, his hands resting on either side of her narrow waist. Then he smiled contemptuously as Kathy, for an instant not aware that he had pulled completely away from her, continued to rotate her hips, looking as if there were an invisible lover between her naked thighs. Then her eyes were blazing at him with hatred ... hatred, and despite herself, frustrated desire.
Neither of them spoke; there was no need. Each read the other's feelings perfectly: he, her shamed longing; and she, his gloating satisfaction. Almost casually, Buford leaned his hips in closer to the table and let his blue-veined penis slide easily into her thoroughly lubricated sheath. A tiny gasp of pleasure escaped from Kathy's soft lips, and Buford chuckled at the sound. "Whatever you may think of me," he sneered, "you've got to admit that that hot little cunt of yours sure loves me. Of course, I've been awfully good to it, haven't I?"
Kathy caught him off guard, straining her head suddenly up from the table and spitting at him. She hit him square in the center of that mocking face. "You rotten cunt!" he snarled at her, automatically brushing the spittle away with the back of his hand. "You're going to be sorry you did that!"
She expected a hard slap across her face or perhaps a savage punch to her unprotected stomach, but Buford only disengaged his rigid cock from her violated pussy. Maybe she should have spat at him sooner! It seemed to have killed his enthusiasm for having sex with her.
But Buford's next act proved her wrong. He wrapped one hand firmly around his thick pecker and leaned back into her, but now the obscene intruder was probing into the shadowed recess between Kathy's buttocks! With a feeling of sick horror, she realized how he was going to make her pay for spitting on him. Slowly, inexorably, he was squeezing the bulbous head of his cock inside her little elastic ring.
Surprisingly, Kathy didn't feel any pain at the entry, but there was a sensation of incredible pressure, increasing steadily as his heavy penis worked its way deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of her bowels. In a way she was lucky that he wanted to enter her slowly, savoring her degradation. How much worse this horrible anal rape would be if he rammed his iron-hard cock brutally to the depths of her rectum, ripping through the sensitive, defenseless tissues of her rear passage. In a sudden hideous flash, Kathy saw her torn anus dripping blood around the base of Buford's plunging shaft.
The image faded at the sound of his voice. "How's it feel, honey?" he asked her, and she nearly gave in to the temptation to spit once more at his sadistically grinning face. Then she thought again of his brutal cock tearing at her bottom, and resisted the impulse.
His leather-skinned prick was now buried to the hilt between the widely stretched cheeks of her ass, filling her rectum completely. Kathy felt an almost intolerable sense of discomfort, as if she had an overpowering need to defecate, but, mercifully, there was still no pain.
Buford began rocking his massive penis in and out of her tight channel, taking no special care to be gentle, but not trying to rend her virgin orifice, either. He wanted to make her suffer, but not at the expense of spoiling his own enjoyment of fucking her this way. He could already feel his thrusting cock begin to throb with pleasure as her tightly clasped rectum massaged it. With each withdrawal of the thick organ, her puckered brown wafer pouted outward, as if reluctant to let the ravaging penis escape.
"Ohhhh!" Kathy moaned instinctively as Buford suddenly stabbed two fingers inside her still-sensitized vagina. An electric charge of unwanted desire crackled through her drug-stimulated channel. Deeper and deeper he wriggled the lasciviously prying fingers, letting them squirm inside her vulnerable cunt like tiny animals trying to escape, each twisting movement heightening the glorious and shameful glow that was spreading through her warm, dark womb.
"Stop it, you sonofabitch!" she tried to say, but her voice trembled so violently with her helpless lust that the words were incomprehensible.
Buford, understanding only the tone of her voice, actually thought she was coaxing him on. In response, he began grinding her stiff little clitoris under his thumb while his fingers continued their eager stroking of her spasming channel. He could feel his testicles swelling, growing harder with each throbbing pulse of his cock, signaling his rapidly approaching climax.
Kathy, too, was near her orgasm. As if in sympathy with her wildly contracting pussy, her rear passage was now rippling out of control around Buford's hammering shaft. "Cut her loose," the gangster whispered hoarsely to Cleon, knowing that Kathy was now too caught up in the fury of her own rapidly nearing climax to try to break away from him.
Proving the point, her now-freed arms and legs wrapped themselves desperately around his sweaty body, pulling him into her yielding softness. Her locked ankles strained frantically against his muscular buttocks, forcing his pounding cock to the utmost depths of her quivering rectum. A short length of cord that still dangled from one of her ankles nestled lightly in the crevice of Buford's ass, trailing down between his thighs to tickle his swollen balls. The teasing movement of the cord as he sawed in and out of Kathy's wetly clinging anus was the final straw. He could hold back no longer!
His painfully overloaded testicles jerked spasmodically and spewed out their hot, white cargo. Wave upon wave of sticky cum poured into Kathy's moist, dark bowels. "Aaaagh!" Kathy screamed in ecstasy as the white flood burst through the dam of her remaining inhibitions. Her plundered vagina twisted madly around his plunging fingers.
The mindless rapture of her violent climax shook her body like a fit of sexual epilepsy, her overcharged nerve endings exploding with unbearable sensation. Buford's thumb crushed brutally against her tender bud; the fingers inside her steaming pussy spread apart in a wide vee. "AiiiiEEEE!" she shrieked with guilty, primitive joy at the pleasure/pain of feeling her sensitive inner tissues being stretched, opened to the moist air that licked salaciously at the pink surfaces of her womanhood.
Incredibly, she felt the depths of her bowels begin to contract in depraved imitation of her vaginal orgasm. The fury of two simultaneous climaxes swept through her body, sensitizing every inch of her flesh to sexual stimulation. Her nipples flashed electric shocks as the coarse hair of Buford's chest brushed against them. Her mouth thrilled at the touch of her own tongue. The very pores of her skin seemed to participate, as the perspiration trickling from her creamy body onto the green felt of the table became a tingling, sensual caress. It was as if her whole body had become one gigantic, insatiable vagina!
Without even knowing she was doing it, Kathy babbled obscene encouragement to her rapist. "Fuck it! Oh, yes! ... YESSSS! ... Fuck it so GOOOOD! Fu-u-ummmm ... uh-uh-UUUUG!" Her delirious pleading stopped, and the room seemed suddenly very quiet. Partly from physical exhaustion, partly from the overpowering intensity of her climax, Kathy had again passed out.
When she at last returned to an awareness of her surroundings, she was back in Buford's office, sitting in the same chair she had taken when she first arrived here. He sat behind his desk, smirking at her. Instinctively, she glanced down at her body, and saw with relief that she was fully clothed. As if reading her thoughts, Buford laughed.
"Is anything wrong, Miss Harper?" The mockery in his voice cut like a scalpel. It was as if nothing had happened to her! She might have doubted her own sanity if it weren't for the soreness of her vagina and the damp, clinging sensation where the crotch of her panties molded itself to her vulva. There was something else, too, a warm, satisfied glow deep in her belly that filled her with shame.
"You rotten bastard," she hissed at him, "are you trying to pretend that you and your goon didn't rape me? Well, it's not going to work! I'll have your degenerate ass in jail as soon as I can get to a phone!"
"I'm not denying anything, Miss Harper." Buford's voice was unexpectedly calm. "I've no need to, because you won't be sending anyone to jail."
"Does that mean you don't intend to let me leave here?" Kathy was inwardly cursing herself for being so foolish as to threaten this dangerous man while she was still in his power.
"Don't be melodramatic, Kathy. I'm not going to have you 'taken for a ride', if that's what you're thinking. You know, it's no wonder that you cops have never been able to get a conviction against me. You all expect me to act like some gangster on the late show. Hell, your gun's in your purse right now, if you want to arrest me."
Watching Buford with unveiled suspicion, Kathy opened her purse and reached inside. Her gun was there! Still distrustful, she looked around the room to make sure that Cleon wasn't again sneaking up behind her. Satisfied that they were alone, she pointed the pistol at Buford. "All right, Mister Smooth," she said, "you're under arrest."
He didn't bother to raise his hands. "Miss Harper, look inside that envelope lying in front of you." There was a small manila envelope on top of his desk. With her free hand, Kathy eased it open and dumped the contents out on the desk, taking care not to let her revolver waver even a fraction of an inch off target. Polaroid snapshots! Twenty of them at the very least! "I've got more pictures safely put away," Buford said, "in case you get any clever ideas."
For a queasy instant, Kathy thought she was going to vomit. Pictures of that type would have disgusted her at all times; these were doubly revolting, because she appeared in all of them.
In one photo, she stood beside a billiard table, crouching over it so the tips of her nipples just touched the green felt surface. Cleon Spivy stood behind her, his huge penis disappearing into the hair-lined crease between her thighs.
In another, she lay on a plush carpet, her legs stretched wide to admit Buford's tongue to her gaping vagina. He lay on top of her, his head facing her feet and his cock buried in her mouth.
A close-up shot: Kathy's delicate lips formed an obscene O around the head of a slime-glistening penis.
Another picture showed Buford standing. Kathy was on her knees behind him, her tongue probing the cleft between his buttocks. One small hand was reached out around him, gripping his thick stalk.
She couldn't remember doing any of those horrible things. In fact, she didn't remember anything that had happened after Buford took her the second time. However, she did seem to be awake, if not aware, in all the pictures. The humiliating photos had one thing in common, the expression of primitive, unrestrained lust that twisted Kathy's face into something evil!
"Of course, you could claim you were drugged when those pictures were taken," Buford said. "I imagine you could even make it stick in court, considering the differences in our reputations. But what do you suppose those pictures would do to your father?"
She couldn't answer for a moment, imagining what those hideous, lewd pictures would do to Sam Harper's already tenuous sanity. When she was at last able to speak, she sounded thoroughly beaten. "All right," she said in a tiny strained voice, "I won't tell what happened."
"You'll do better than that, Kathy." He looked directly into her eyes. "You'll come up here again whenever I want you to, and you'll take care of anyone I tell you to fuck."
She didn't even try to argue the point, just nodded meekly. "Can I go now?" She seemed on the verge of tears.
"Go ahead," Buford told her. He watched the door for several seconds after it closed behind her, his eyes sparkling with malicious delight. Jesus, what luck that that dumb police pussy had been stupid enough to put herself in his hands! He'd still see Sam Harper dead in his own sweet time, and he'd have the pleasure of screwing the old man's daughter in the meantime. The revenge of taking Kathy would have been a joy in itself even if she were very plain, but she was one of the most desirable women Buford had ever seen. And she certainly was the most fiercely passionate. Martin Buford was extremely satisfied with himself.
The satisfaction lasted until the following afternoon, when Kathy phoned him. "What's wrong, honey," he sneered into the phone. "Is that hungry little pussy of yours ready to be fed again?"
"You'd better stop laughing at your own sick jokes and just listen to me," she said. "You think you're so clever that it's impossible for you to make a mistake; and you've probably pushed around a lot of women who didn't have the brains or guts to fight back, but I've really got you!"
"What do you think you have?" he asked, more curious than worried.
"You should have counted those pictures after I left your office, Mister Big Brain," Kathy answered. "I've got a picture of you taking me. Better than that, there's a wall calendar in the background, and it's torn off to the right date."
"What's that supposed to prove, honey? As I recall, you appeared to be pretty cooperative in those pictures."
"Listen, Buford, the first thing I did when I left you yesterday was to have a blood sample taken. I was only waiting for the results to call you. I can prove I was drugged; I can prove the date it happened, and I have a picture of you taking me on that date. You could go to jail for years."
"Then why did you bother to call me?" He could already guess the answer.
"Well, for one thing, I wanted to tell you that I'm not going to be coming up there to entertain you whenever you whistle. If you send any of those pictures to my father, I'll add them to the evidence I already have against you and take them to the police. What's more, you'll leave my father alone from now on.
"I can't turn you in now, Buford, because then I'd lose my hold over you. You could always hire someone to kill Dad, even if you were in jail. The way I see it, we've got a stand-off. I can't have you jailed for raping me, but you can't kill my father."
"You rotten bitch!" Buford screamed into the phone.
Kathy laughed at him. It was her turn to mock him now.
"Good-bye, Mister Buford. Don't forget to pray that my father doesn't have any genuine accidents. I'd hate to send an innocent man to jail." The phone clicked off.
Stunned by the sudden turnabout, Buford stood silently for several seconds. Then, with the scream of a madman, he hurled the phone to the floor. A single sweep of his arm sent everything on top of his desk flying. He lifted the heavy chair behind the desk and threw it against a wall.
The loud crash and the sound of Buford's frenzied curses brought Cleon Spivy rushing into the room, a heavy automatic in his huge fist. "What is it, boss?" the bodyguard asked. He looked cautiously about the room, half-expecting to see that Dave Halloran was paying them another visit.
The familiar sight of Cleon's stupid face had a calming effect on Buford. Even in front of his own hirelings, he liked to maintain that cool, controlled image of his. It was a matter of pride. "Just shut up and let me think, Cleon."
He picked up the chair he had thrown and returned it to his desk. Then he sat down and didn't say another word for nearly an hour, not until he had worked out a solution to his problem. "Cleon, find out who runs that gang, the one the kid that Kathy Harper killed belonged to. I want his phone number."
In a surprisingly short time, Cleon had the information Buford had requested. The gangster's name was a password throughout all levels of Bay City society, and his grapevine was especially effective when he needed information regarding any kind of hoodlum, from professional assassin to juvenile purse snatcher.
Buford dialed the number Cleon gave him. "Hello, is this Bill Winslow? ... Never mind who I am. You had a friend killed by a lady cop. Would you like to even the score? ... Look, there's no reason for you to be suspicious. I want her dead. If you hate her bad enough to kill her, I'll put her in your hands. How about it? ... All right then, listen...."
7
Johnny Dell glanced anxiously at the clock beside his bed. It was a little past nine in the evening, and that meant that Dawn-he didn't know her last name-was already a few minutes late.
He lay on top of the covers, his head and shoulders elevated by two thick pillows. His tie and jacket were hung neatly on the back of a chair that sat in one corner of the room. He was smoking the last cigarette of a pack he had opened only three hours earlier. Actually, he was doing less smoking than ash-flicking, a sign of his nervous impatience.
His mind vacillated between frustration and anticipation. The frustration had started that morning, when he stopped by the Parrot's Beak to explain to Martin Buford about botching the hit-and-run attempt on the Harpers. Surprisingly, he found Buford in a good humor, so good that he even gave Johnny fifty of the five hundred dollars he would have paid for a successful job. Johnny had thought that the fifty bucks was a great stroke of good fortune, until he learned why Buford was in such a generous mood.
Buford had told him that Harper's daughter, as luscious a little cunt as Johnny had ever seen, had stopped by the Parrot's Beak the day before. Detail by exciting detail, Buford had filled Johnny in on every perverted act that Kathy had been forced to perform. Jesus! Just thinking about it had made his balls ache, but when Buford showed him those pictures-!
What really hurt was that Johnny should have been there when Kathy was. Because he botched the job on Harper, he put off reporting to Buford for an extra day. If he had gone to the club the day before, as he was supposed to, he could have gotten in on the action with that cop cunt. Of course, that explained why Buford hadn't climbed down Johnny's throat. He had a better way to make him sorry he hadn't followed orders.
Burford had style all right. He knew how to control people. His secret was the old stick-and-carrot routine, with a slight refinement of his own. You didn't always get the stick when you fouled something up, and somehow that made foul-ups more to be feared. After all, if a guy knew he was going to catch big trouble for a mistake, he could brace himself for it. But with Buford there was always that hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be one of the times when he laughed the whole thing off. It was the hope of escaping punishment that made punishment more grim when it was meted out.
Even Johnny, who was smart enough to see the wheels turning when Buford tried to make him squirm, inevitably found himself squirming despite the fact that he saw through the game. The most frightening thing that had ever happened to him had been Buford's handiwork. Johnny had made a mistake on an important job, but Buford brushed over the mistake, even telling Johnny that he could still earn his money by doing another job. The job? Killing a guy who made one mistake too many while working for Buford. Yeah, Buford knew how to control people.
With sudden uneasiness, Johnny wondered if the business with Dawn was only another ploy of Buford's. Buford had told him that he was going to send "a real special girl" up to his apartment at nine that evening, supposedly to make it up to Johnny for missing out on the fun with Kathy Harper. Now Johnny was starting to see that the whole business followed Buford's typical pattern of trying to keep a guy off balance.
Sure, Buford might have been in such a good mood after scoring with Kathy that he was willing to do Johnny the unusual favor of sending him a $200-a-night call girl. But he'd never done any favors like that for him in the past. It would be just like Buford to get Johnny all steamed up about missing out on some really hot pussy, raise his hopes by promising to send him another real good lay, then disappoint him by not sending a girl.
Hell, what would Johnny be able to do about it? He could already hear Buford's calm, reassuring voice: "Oh, yeah, Johnny. I meant to call you about that, but I got tied up. Dawn had a previous appointment. Some other time, huh?"
Convinced that that must be Buford's plan, Johnny cursed his rotten luck. He was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Sorry I'm late," Dawn said. "I ran into some heavy traffic over by the Coliseum. They must have something going on there tonight. You're Johnny?"
"Himself," he answered.
Jesus! She was fantastic! Her glossy black hair, piled high on her head in a breathtaking confusion of curls, contrasted strikingly with her ivory skin.
Soft blushes of pink glowed through her translucent flesh. She had warm violet eyes, and a beautiful, delicate face. Her large breasts strained against a flimsy halter that clearly out-lined her nipples, and she was wearing hot pants that were cut well below the beckoning hollow of her navel.
"Honey," Johnny said, "your looks are everything Buford promised."
"Thank you, kind sir." She made a mock curtsy.
"Look, Dawn," Johnny said, "I understand you're ... well, you know ... really terrific, and I'm in the mood for a terrific girl. I'm not in the mood for preliminaries."
She smiled at him and reached behind her back to unfasten her halter. She was used to men with a lot more class than this clod was showing, but smiling at the customers, no matter how you felt about them, was part of the job. Still, she didn't like his "shuck them and let's get it on" approach. That was for cheap whores, and she prided herself on being an expensive whore.
"God, baby," he gasped as she pulled the halter away from her satiny breasts, "that's some pair!"
Shit! The guy was some smooth talker. She'd bet anything that it would never cross his mind that he could easily afford to give her a twenty-buck tip, since someone else was paying for the ride.
He gave one of her breasts a hurried squeeze, like a housewife testing a melon. "Oh, Johnny, you're getting me turned on," she whispered huskily. "Most of the guys I get are loaded, but they're soft. They're not real men like you." A first-class prostitute needed more than just looks and technique. She needed to know how to feed a man's ego.
"The pants! Take off the pants and give me a look at your pussy!"
"Oh, yes," she said, "my cunt's burning up already!" If he liked dirty words, she'd give him dirty words. She opened the wide leather belt that supported her hot pants, then rolled the pants down off her hips, giving it a few unnecessary, but totally professional, wiggles. Again, the hurried, perfunctory groping of his hand. "Johnny," she sighed at his clumsy touch, "let's hurry."
He took her hand and pulled her hastily toward the bed. Then he kicked off his shoes, skinned out of his trousers, and fell backward onto the covers. Arching his hips in the air, he rolled his shorts down over his ankles. His penis was the skinniest she had ever seen, but it was also the longest. Maybe this job wasn't going to be so bad after all.
"C'mon and show me what makes you soo good," he said.
In response, she leaned out over the bed and delicately dug her long, hard fingernails into his scrotum. Gently, ever so gently, she scraped her nails up and down the softly ridged surface of the hairy pouch. "Ummmm ... UUUUMMM!" he groaned. He could feel his testicles growing painfully hard under her teasing touch, and somehow the knowledge that those sharp fingernails could easily emasculate him with one sudden, vicious movement heightened his excitement.
Dawn shifted her attention to his lust-stiffened penis, scratching tenderly at the underside of the shaft. The head of his cock visibly expanded under the maddeningly pleasurable stimulation, like a cobra spreading its hood. The leathery outer skin of his penis rippled with small, automatic jerks, and a tiny drop of semen glittered at the tip of the long, thin organ. The pearl grew larger when Dawn's tantalizing nails went to work on he fleshy ring surrounding the engorged head of his prick. Scrape, scrape, scrape. The bead of fluid turned into a tiny trickle.
She wrapped one fragile-looking hand firmly around his stalk and leaned her face in close to the upright member. Her tongue flicked out and the tip of it stopped the trickle of warm fluid and traced it back to its source. There the lascivious pink probe carefully spread the small slit wide and touched the moist, sensitive surfaces inside. The hand gripping his rod squeezed and relaxed in perfect rhythm with her tongue thrusts.
"Oh, suck it, baby! Take it all!" Johnny was learning why Dawn was so highly recommended. When she pulled her mouth away from him, sharp twinges of frustrated lust stabbed down the shaft of his penis and into his aching testicles. He heard her walking across the room and, frantic with the thought that this might be Buford's punishment for the bungled Harper job, he jerked his head off the pillows to look for her. He was reassured to see her already returning to him, clasping something in her hand.
"Johnny," she said, "pull your feet back until your knees are in the air, and spread them out. Dawn's going to take good care of you." He obeyed eagerly, and when she bent over him again, he saw what she had in her hand-a string of beads! He'd heard of that routine before, but he'd never tried it. Man, this would be a night to remember!
Dawn stretched out one finger and tickled the puckered mouth that nestled between his buttocks. Then, with deft, practiced movements, she forced the beads, one by one, inside the tight ring of his anus, allowing a short length to dangle free. She took great care not to tear the sensitive tissues with those sharp nails of hers. Johnny's rectum felt bloated, but it wasn't too unpleasant, and he had the compensation of knowing what was coming.
Dawn's soft lips were again hovering over his penis. The warm red petals opened and tenderly enfolded his pulsing glans. Her tongue swirled gently around the head of his cock, and her lips applied a dainty, tormenting suction. Gradually, almost lovingly, she took more of the blue-veined cock into the delightful cavern of her mouth. When she had engulfed a third of his shaft, she increased the intensity of her sucking, and then ... POP! ... POP! She pulled suddenly on the string dangling from Johnny's anus, and two beads spewed out of the little brown wafer. His penis surged reflexively with a delicious spasm that was like nothing he had ever felt before.
She had fully half the length of his penis in her mouth now, lashing at it with her tongue, sucking hot needles of blood to the surface of the iron-hard cock. Her head began bobbing up and down, while her mouth massaged his prick with slithery expertise. Pop, pop, pop! Three more beads jumped out of his elastic ring. It took all of Johnny's self-control to prevent himself from coming right then. His rigid pecker was vibrating with tingling bursts of ecstatic sensation.
As Dawn lengthened each bobbing movement of her head, Johnny's cock disappeared farther and farther into her mouth. Then she was taking it all, letting the long, skinny penis probe back deep in her throat. Each time his sperm-slickened glans slid into her throat, the muscular tube closed convulsively around it. Johnny didn't know how she could suppress the normal gagging reaction that most people would have, but it didn't seem to affect her.
The spasmodic closing of her throat around his intruding penis pushed Johnny over the edge. His balls suddenly swelled painfully and squeezed out their hot liquid load. Dawn swallowed the sticky white fluid without missing a beat in her oral stimulation of his copiously gushing prick. The only sign that she noticed the thick flow of semen was the long pull she gave on the beads, forcing them to shoot out of his rectum in a headlong rush. It was an agonizing joy!
Johnny put his hands on the back of her head and pushed it down on his cock, forcing the cum-spurting organ deep, deeper into her throat. The muscular sleeve pulled tight around the spewing penis, sucking it in and down until Johnny thought Dawn was going to swallow him entirely, balls and all. Then the tension in his long prick relaxed, as Dawn drained the last drop of semen from his jerking cock. She raised her head from his now rapidly shrinking penis and smiled at him. "You like?" she asked. He knew the question needed no answer.
"I'd like to give you a regular screwing," he said, "but you've milked me so dry that it may be a couple of hours before I'm ready again."
"We've got all night, if you need it, Johnny." She nudged gingerly at his rod with an extended forefinger. The limp penis didn't even twitch. "Do you have a refrigerator in your room?" she asked.
"Sure. It's right through that door." Johnny chuckled softly at a thought that crossed his mind as Dawn walked into the kitchen. He'd have sworn her stomach was too full for her to be thinking about food. But she hadn't been searching through the refrigerator for a snack. She returned carrying a bowl of ice cubes.
Before he could ask her what they were for, she showed him. "Hey!" he protested as she playfully touched one cube to his now-flaccid scrotum.
"I thought you wanted to get ready again as quickly as possible," she laughed. The ice cube slid easily up and down the length of his shaft, never resting long enough in one place for the cold to really bite him.
Well, he had expected that a high-priced whore like Dawn could show him a few new tricks. No sense in denying himself the experience. Besides, it wasn't really so bad, just different. And it was working! His cock jerked into a steadily increasing hardness until it was firmer than he could ever remember it being before-almost unnaturally stiff. It felt as if it were made of wood.
"This is Dawn's celebrated hot-and-cold treatment," she told him. "I think you're ready for the heat now." She swung gracefully onto the bed and straddled Johnny's hips. Without wasting any time, she slid her slickly velvet vagina halfway down his shaft, her plump vulva enveloping him. After the piercing coldness of the ice cube, her cunt felt almost red-hot, but the shock of her heat was pleasant to him. His penis throbbed fiercely in response to its contact with her cushioning vagina, but then she pulled away from him. A spasm of deliciously painful frustration shot down the length of his prick. Almost instantly, her yielding pussy engulfed him once more.
As Dawn repeated the procedure again and again-fleeting contact, withdrawal, then contact-the cold numbness was sucked from his penis, absorbed by her tenderly caressing vagina, and only the stiffness remained.
With relentless persistence, Dawn worked her slippery cunt up and down his long, thin shaft. To her surprise, she found that she was getting turned on, too, despite her professionalism and her personal distaste for her client. Her eager vulva trembled nervously as she took more and more of his cock inside her with each downward thrust of her hips, and her sensitive vagina pulled away from his rigid penis with an ever-increasing sense of deprivation.
"Man, I'm ready," she said, and this time she wasn't just flattering the customer. "How about you, Johnny?"
"You know it, you beautiful, hot cunt!"
She raised herself off his impaling rod and retrieved another ice cube from the bowl. Before Johnny's unbelieving eyes, she forced the frigid little block between her vulva and pushed it far up her spongy channel. Any questions he had about the meaning of his unusual procedure were answered when she again took his penis into the hair-lined nest of her vagina.
She slammed her hips fiercely against his thighs, driving his cock deep inside her passage. The head of his rigid member pounded against the icy obstruction, sending an incredibly erotic thrill through his shaft. The impact drove the ice cube still deeper inside her soft belly. Now he had the idea! Christ, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it was great, really great!
Wham! He thrust his penis against the frozen block once more. Again it sent electric flashes of pleasure pulsing through his loins, and again the cube was forced still farther into her twitching vagina. The icy water from the slowly melting cube ran down the walls of her feverishly clasping pussy, cooling his hammering prick as if it were a high-speed drill.
God! It was unbelievable! After experiencing literally dozens of warm, slickly lubricated vaginas, the touch of an almost clammy cunt was a shattering lascivious ecstasy. The running water washed away much of Dawn's natural lubricants, creating a vaginal friction that brought added stimulation to Johnny's tingling penis. The bulbous head of his cock dragged enticingly over her moist pink tissues.
"I'm going to come, baby!" he shouted. "Suck it up with that tight pussy!" The life-carrying semen spurted from his rippling cock as he grasped her silky buttocks and pulled her viciously down on his stabbing prick. Burst upon burst of the milky fluid spewed from his twitching rod, more than he would have believed he had left after their first go-'round. The contrast between the coldness that nipped at the leathery outer skin of his pecker and the hot fluid that flowed through its center made him feel as if liquid fire were gushing out of him, filling the dark receptacle of her womb.
Dawn was caught up in the rapture of her own orgasm. She seldom came with a client, but this was too much! The steaming sperm spurted from his penis, washed across the ice cube that now nestled deep in her belly, and fell in icy drops on her sensitive inner tissues. And his prick was SO LONG! Longer than anything she had ever had before. The final lunge of his climax forced him inside her where no man had been before, piercing her with a delirious thrill of icy contact.
She screamed mindlessly and babbled wordless pleasure in his ear as her own juices broke like a boiling flood over the ice cube. Wave after wave flowed from her frenziedly constricting pussy, running out around the base of his cock despite the tight seal of her labia. She ground her voracious cunt savagely against him for one final moment as she reached her ultimate peak; then she fell limp on the bed beside him. The hot fruits of her passion had reduced the ice cube to the size of a pea. "Oh, baby," she gasped, "you're some great fucker!"
The phone rang.
Johnny cursed at the disturbance. He hoped it wasn't anything that would take him away from this inventive little cunt before he had fully tested her resources, and, naturally, it was. A voice he didn't recognize told him to get over to Buford's right away. Before he could ask any questions, the caller hung up.
Johnny dressed hurriedly; it didn't do to keep Buford waiting. "Listen, Dawn," he said, "I can come up with two hundred to finish a session like this. How soon can you come back?"
She smiled at him. "I enjoyed it, too. Tell you what, I'll stop back tomorrow night and let you finish getting what Buford paid for."
Johnny was whistling as he walked into the darkened garage of his apartment building. Goddamn! This was the greatest night of his life! He bent over to see the keyhole on his car door better; then he saw something reflected in the window. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as he whirled around, his hand groping frantically for the gun at his armpit. There was a sensation of shattering impact in the center of his chest. Then darkness.
When Dave Halloran arrived on the scene, he found Johnny sitting on the ground, his shoulders supported by the car. Johnny's sightless eyes stared glassily. The terror he had felt in the last split second of his life was written in his contorted face.
Halloran turned to the uniformed cop who had led him to the body. "How long?" he asked.
"Not long at all," the other policeman answered. "He was still warm when I found him, and I called you right away. I know you take a special interest in anything that involves Buford's men."
"What killed him?" Dave asked.
"Doc says his chest was crushed, but not by something heavy coming down on him, like you might expect. Someone hit him a tremendous shot. Doc says that an extremely strong man swinging a lead-loaded sap might be able to do the kind of damage he found."
Halloran bent down closer to the corpse. "What does Doc make of this?" He pointed to a small black smudge on the front of Dell's shirt.
"Probably made by the murder weapon, but he can't add anything to that. The detectives are up in Dell's apartment now. Maybe they have some ideas."
Dave seemed to have lost interest all of a sudden. "Thanks for the fill-in. I'm going to go home now and get some sleep. If the detectives assigned to the case find anything new, ask them to let me know about it."
Dave couldn't remember a time when he had felt as tired or as old as at that moment. He slid wearily behind the steering wheel of his car and started the engine. Cold metal touched the back of his neck. "Let's go to the Parrot's Beak, copper." The voice belonged to Cleon Spivy.
Twenty minutes later, Dave was in Buford's game room. His wrists and ankles were firmly secured to his chair. Buford was content to eye him silently for the time being, and that was just fine with Dave. He needed some time to figure this whole thing out.
Could Cleon have been the one to kill Johnny Dell? He was strong enough, but Dave couldn't picture Cleon hanging around the scene of a murder he'd just committed. And if Cleon had done something as daring as that, he surely would have boasted about it on the ride over here. They were going to have to kill Dave anyway after kidnapping him, and Cleon had been in a boastful mood, blowing about how easily he had taken Dave.
Buford interrupted the train of Dave's thoughts. "Don't you want to know why I had you brought here?"
"If there's anything about it that makes you look clever, I'm sure you'll tell me about it anyway," Dave answered.
"'very good, Halloran!" Buford laughed. "Your wit seems to improve with adversity. Give me a funny comeback to this: I've got you because it's part of my plan to kill Kathy Harper."
"What kind of sick revenge is that, Buford?" Dave knew it was useless to made idle threats.
"Peculiarly enough, it has nothing to do with revenge," Buford said. "It's a matter of self-preservation. Of all the cops in the world, that little girl is the one who got the goods on Martin Buford."
"How?" Dave sounded surprised, but proud of Kathy.
"I'll fill you in on the details later, and part of it will be a pleasure, but I'll just give you the outlines now. Kathy herself explained it pretty well. I'm used to dealing with women who don't have the brains or guts to push back. I judged Kathy by them, an almost fatal mistake for me. She can send me to jail any time she wants."
Buford lapsed into moody silence for a few moments, pondering his own stupidity. Then he said, "Do you remember that boy she killed?" Dave nodded. "His gang is going to kill Kathy for me. I've talked to their leader over the phone, without telling him my name, and out-lined part of my plan to him."
"You can afford professional talent, Buford. Why rely on a bunch of kids?"
"Halloran, if you and the girl both turned up dead, every cop on the force would be knocking himself out to pin it on me. This way, the kids can take the rap. They'll get Kathy by telling her they have you. Since gang rape seems to be a hobby with them, they'll undoubtedly be some time in killing her. I'll call their leader early tomorrow morning to make sure the job has been done. Fortunately, the kid hasn't realized that there was no real need for us to actually pick you up to make our plan work, not the way I laid it out to him. Kathy will have to take their word that they have you, or take a chance on your being killed.
"The real reason we picked you up is so that your body can be dumped at the gang's club after Kathy is dead. One anonymous call to your friends on the force will tie the whole thing to the kids."
Halloran felt sick. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the plan would work. Those kids had a motive of their own for wanting him and Kathy dead. No one would buy an accomplice-by-phone story, and the kids couldn't name Buford anyway. Besides, they really will have killed Kathy, and Dave's own time of death would be pretty close to hers. Shit!
"Cleon's told me about what happened to Johnny Dell," Buford was saying now. "It looks like killing you is going to be almost a case of self-defense."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dave asked.
"Figure it for youself," Buford said. "Five men attacked Sam Harper. Two of them died that night. Three months ago, one of those three just disappeared. Then Sam Ellis got that stake through his heart in a freak 'accident'. Now Johnny Dell has been murdered. I thought you were bluffing when you said you'd kill me, but now I can see that I was the last name on your list."
Dave laughed bitterly. "Buford, I wish I could take odds right now on your dying damn sudden, regardless of what you do to me. You're a marked man."
The gangster looked puzzled. Then he shrugged and said, "I love riddles, Halloran, but I don't have time to play right now. I have to make a phone call to the kids, so they'll know you're out of circulation. When I get back, I'll tell you the rest of the story about how Kathy got me in a corner, and I've got some interesting pictures I want you to see."
8
Kathy Harper listened quietly at the door of the den, her father's temporary bedroom until his old room could be restored. Luckily, the phone call which had wakened Kathy didn't seem to have disturbed Sam. No stirring, not even the soft, regular sound of breathing, could be heard through the thick door, and Kathy wondered whether she should take a look inside to make sure her father was all right.
She discarded the idea. After being so careful to make sure he was asleep, it would be stupid to take a chance on waking him by opening the door. "You'd better come alone, and you'd better not tell anyone where you're going." Her caller had been very explicit about that. He left no doubt in Kathy's mind about what would happen to Dave if she failed to follow instructions.
Those instructions were brief, but they seemed to have been carefully thought out. Kathy was to be dressed and in her car within ten minutes after she got off the line. Her phone was to be left off the hook (so there could be no hurried call for help). In her car she would find a map directing her to the place where she was to meet the people holding Dave. She would have no more than thirty minutes to get there. On no account was she to return to the house once she had gotten into the car.
Kathy wondered if she was doing the right thing. Perhaps Dave was home right now, safely sleeping in his own bed. She could be walking into God knew what kind of danger for no reason at all. But what if she called the bluff and Dave's body later turned up in a ditch beside some lonely country road? She couldn't take that chance, even though she knew that Dave himself would tell her it was what a smart cop would do.
Funny, if she hadn't been given the choice of perhaps trading her own life to save Dave's, she might never have realized that he was more to her than just a good friend. Now that she understood her feelings for him, it might already be too late. Besides, she doubted that he would ever be able to picture her as anything other than an inept but lovable kid sister. He'd probably only laugh if she told him how she felt. He'd think it was a late-blooming case of schoolgirl crush.
There was an envelope waiting for Kathy on the seat of her car, and she found the promised map inside. It was obvious that her destination was well outside the city limits. Smart! If she had figured out a way to have someone follow her, the "tail" would have been easily spotted on a little-traveled country road. She'd bet that the last mile or so of her journey would be plainly visible from some vantage point where her caller would be watching.
It turned out that she was right. The last stretch of dirt road she turned down inclined gradually upward, through land that was level on either side of the car, toward a small group of hills. She was just beginning to wonder how she would know exactly where to park, when a light was suddenly beamed at her windshield from a dark grove of trees that relieved the monotony of the otherwise barren land.
She braked her car hard and peered into the gloom. After several seconds had passed, she spotted a narrow dirt lane that branched off the main road. She pulled her car into the darkened grove and waited. The minutes dragged by painfully. Kathy was sure that someone was watching her from a very short distance, but whoever it was didn't seem to be in any hurry to reveal himself. He probably wanted to size the situation up carefully before approaching Kathy.
"Out of the car!" It was a girl's voice. The powerful flashlight she held glared directly into Kathy's eyes.
The young policewoman climbed out of her car and closed the door.
"Your purse, throw it over here on the ground!"
Again Kathy obeyed, and a small hand reached out into the blinding circle of light to scoop up the purse. There was a slight snapping sound, followed by some rummaging noises, and Kathy saw her gun and handcuffs flash momentarily in front of the light, then vanish into the darkness behind it. She had no doubt that the gun was now being pointed directly at her, even though the strong light prevented her from seeing it.
"We'll take my car," the voice said. "Start walking."
The light shifted to point out a narrow footpath. Kathy followed the path for a couple of hundred yards, her captor close behind her every step of the way, until she came to a battered old station wagon. "Driver's side," the voice ordered.
Kathy slid in behind the wheel, and her handcuffs were dropped in her lap. "Cuff your right wrist to the steering wheel."
The girl slid in beside Kathy and turned off the flashlight. The policewoman was surprised to see that her captor was apparently no more than sixteen or seventeen years old. She was a thin, rather nervous-looking girl, with short dark hair.
Kathy could have laughed at this unlikely kidnaper if it weren't for the girl's obvious fascination with the unfunny gun she held in her delicate hand. With her other hand, the girl tenderly cradled the barrel of the gun. Kathy had enough knowledge of abnormal psychology to feel certain that this slender girl could be very dangerous indeed if she were provoked.
"Drive back out the same way you came in." The girl's voice was as soft and shivery as the touch of a razor.
Kathy obeyed the command without hesitation, for there was something about her captor's air of excitement and instability that was even more frightening than the coldly calculated evil of Martin Buford. At least with Buford you could depend on his behavior to follow a logical, if malevolent, pattern, but there was no way of knowing what slight pressure might trigger this girl's explosive compulsions.
For her own part, of course, Terry didn't see herself as some sort of human time bomb. She felt as if she were a grand, exotic princess who had summoned a slave girl to her chambers, a powerful, godlike creature who used human beings as her playthings. She could, and she trembled and felt a tingling between her legs at the thought that she could kill Kathy right now just as easily as she could crush a flea.
Terry savored the picture of her finger tightening on the trigger, of the bright flame from the gun barrel briefly lighting the interior of the car, and of the bullet shattering Kathy's heavy, vulnerable breast. Without conscious volition, Terry clenched her upper thighs tightly together, squeezing her hair-fringed vulva between them.
Fuck Bill Winslow! He thought he was so goddamn smart, letting Terry take all the risks of picking up Kathy. Sure, why not? If Kathy brought help with her, Terry would be the only one caught. If everything went all right, maybe the guys would let Terry have their leavings. The leavings! That's what that bastard Winslow had said, humiliating Terry in front of the whole gang. Well, maybe Mr. Godalmighty Winslow would be the one to get the leavings.
"Turn off here and stop out of sight of the road." Terry tried to sound matter-of-fact, but Kathy sensed the excitement in her voice.
"Why are we stopping here? Is this where you've got Halloran?" Kathy had a dreadful premonition that she would never see Halloran at all, that this strange girl meant to kill her right now.
"Maybe Halloran will meet us here later," Terry said. "Here's the key to the cuffs. Unfasten the one that's snapped to the steering wheel and put it on your other wrist. No! Not in front of you, behind your back!"
This could be the final, fatal decision, Kathy realized. Once her hands were locked behind her back, she'd have no chance at all of escaping. Still, even if she grabbed for the gun and took it away from her captor, where would that leave Halloran? There was nothing to do but continue playing along. She put her hands behind her and snapped the cuffs closed.
Terry walked quickly around the car and opened Kathy's door. "Out!" she said.
With some difficulty, because of her bounds hands, the young policewoman obeyed.
"On your knees!" Terry ordered.
Oh, God! This was it! Kathy knelt on the cold wet grass, expecting any moment the sudden pain and then darkness that would follow the bullet crashing into the base of her skull. Why was it so quiet! She was suddenly conscious of everything around her, as if her senses had become more acute in that last brief instant before they would be snuffed out forever. She could smell the crushed blades of grass under her knees, hear the slight rustle of leaves high in the trees above her, taste the sweet dampness of the fresh country air.
Then she heard a faint flurried whisper of cloth, followed by the sound of feet brushing through the deep grass behind her, coming closer and closer. She braced herself for the bullet. Instead, there were only hands!
Bony, groping hands pushed down across her shoulders and gripped her breasts with painful fierceness. Before she could react, the hands slid to the neck of her blouse. Then they tugged wildly apart in a sudden confusion of ripping cloth and popping buttons, and Kathy felt the cool evening air washing across her naked stomach and shoulders. Even as she began twisting away from the touch of her attacker, the tattered remains of her blouse were pulled backward and down, pinioning her elbows and restricting the movement of her already manacled arms.
Kathy squirmed away from the assault with frantic desperation, falling heavily forward onto the cushioning grass, and Terry fell on top of her. Kathy could feel the girl's bare breasts burning into her back, and her exposed pubic mat was straining against Kathy's fabric-covered buttocks. So that was the sound of rustling cloth that Kathy had heard! The little bitch had been peeling down to the skin. Well, the crazy slut could forget any ideas she had for Kathy. She had already been raped by Buford and his goon, and this little pervert wasn't going to join the club!
But, even as Kathy was making up her mind not to stand still for this, she was finding that thinking about fighting back was easier than doing it. Flat on her stomach, with Terry clinging monkeylike to her back, Kathy couldn't get adequate leverage to break free. Her bound arms didn't permit her to brace her hands against the ground, and she couldn't get her knees up under her. The only movement she could make, flailing her legs in the air, accomplished nothing practical. Already, Terry had succeeded in working open the snap of Kathy's bra.
The girl yanked dementedly at the narrow straps, which were the only thing keeping the bra in place, the thin strips of cloth biting painfully into Kathy's shoulders as they were pulled tighter and tighter. At last the straps gave way. Terry and Kathy struggled briefly, the Lesbian to ease the now-useless garment from underneath her victim, Kathy to keep it in place with the weight of her upper body.
Inevitably, the garment was pulled clear of Kathy's writhing torso. Then the damp, slithery grass was tickling at her sensitive breasts, the coolness of it raising gooseflesh in the dark circles bordering her nipples. Terry forced her hands beneath the soft mounds, squeezing them avidly despite Kathy's helpless protests. Her own small breasts were pressed flat against the struggling girl's back, and the pressure of the smooth, velvety skin sliding back and forth under her nipples made the tiny buds go suddenly rigid with sensual pleasure.
Terry ground her wetly open crotch feverishly against the young policewoman's wriggling buttocks, the rough material of Kathy's skirt rubbing tantalizingly against the moist pink flesh between her obscenely spread labia.
Jesus! This was what it was all about! Terry thrilled with her sense of complete mastery over the other girl. How barren giving yourself to a man was, compared to taking what you wanted from another woman!
The Lesbian sawed her hotly flowing vagina frenziedly against Kathy's squirming buttocks, panting from the exertion and, still more, from her own rising excitement. Her eyes were shiny and unfocused, and her wiry fingers were digging painfully into Kathy's vulnerable breasts. She was getting ready to come! She could feel her orgasm gathering inside her like a desperate animal collecting its strength before bursting through the flimsy bars of its cage.
Betrayed by her mindless lust, she allowed her legs to stretch out behind her, losing the advantage of superior leverage she had as long as she kept one knee firmly planted on either side of Kathy's hips. That was all the trained policewoman needed! She twisted suddenly over on her side, dumping the surprised Terry on the ground, and quickly drew her knees up under her. Then, at last, she was back on her feet.
Terry, stunned by the suddenness of Kathy's move and still half in a sexual daze, rolled to one side just barely in time to avoid a vicious kick at her exposed throat, but not in time to save her from taking a painful, if glancing, blow on the shoulder. The force of the partially missed kick threw Kathy slightly off balance, and she had to struggle for a moment to avoid toppling over backward. In those precious split seconds Terry was able to scramble out of her reach.
Now the Lesbian was moving warily back toward her, on the attack once more. Kathy kicked off her shoes. She was going to need her balance in this unequal combat to stand even a prayer of success. With her arms pinned behind her, she was finished if her opponent could get her down on the ground. As if they had shared the thought, Terry lowered her head and charged, trying to tackle Kathy. The policewoman neatly sidestepped the attack and lashed out at her less experienced opponent with one foot, the blow catching Terry on the hip and knocking her heavily to the ground. Again, the girl rolled away before Kathy could close in on her.
Once more, Terry lowered her head and charged, but this time she swerved away at the last instant and ran past the policewoman. Kathy twirled to keep her eyes on the other girl, then realized the meaning of this new strategy. The gun! Kathy must have been between Terry and the gun! She ran desperately after the young Lesbian and caught up with her just as she was bending over her own discarded clothes. Wham! A savage kick at her backside sent Terry sprawling.
This time, Kathy didn't try to close in. She was more concerned with standing guard over the gun. Kathy couldn't use it with her bound hands, but she intended to make sure that Terry wouldn't be using it, either. The two girls eyed each other silently, the blonde policewoman naked to the waist and shoeless, her thin opponent completely nude, Kathy didn't dare attack; she could only afford to counterpunch. She knew the Lesbian was carefully considering the strategy of her next assault, but was helpless to do anything but wait and see what form it would take.
Ignoring Kathy now, Terry looked intently at the ground around her. At last, she found what she had been looking for. She darted suddenly to one side, bent low for an instant, and rose again holding a rock the size of a baby's skull! If she were smart enough to throw it, Kathy knew the fight would be all over. A miss would only mean that Terry would have to try another throw, and she had all night. There might be some faint hope, however, if Terry intended to use the rock as a bludgeon.
Luckily, the younger girl was too infuriated by her intended victim's resistance to think out her best mode of attack. She raised the heavy stone high above her head, holding it with both hands, and rushed forward, her grim silence more terrifying than the. sound of a thousand war cries.
Kathy, with the sure reaction of a trained fighter, ducked under the vicious downward arc of the stone, and slammed her shoulder into the other girl. If she had caught Terry squarely in the pit of the stomach, as she intended, she would certainly have taken the fight out of her, perhaps even have knocked her unconscious.
Instead, Kathy hit the girl high on the chest, a painful, but not disabling, blow; and both girls fell to the ground. Kathy was on top of her opponent, but the advantage was of no use to her with her bound arms. Already, the half-dazed Lesbian was instinctively wrapping her legs around Kathy's, preventing the driving knee-lift that was the policewoman's only possible method of attack.
Kathy did the best she could in the unequal straggle that followed, trying to keep Terry pinned by her greater weight; but she knew that, inevitably, the other girl must break free. It didn't take long. As Terry's senses cleared, she stopped her ineffectual squirming, realizing with sadistic joy that it would take only a small amount of directed force to regain the upper hand over her prisoner. Almost casually, Terry twisted her fingers in Kathy's long blonde hair.
"Eeeeeowww!" Kathy screamed in agony as Terry yanked viciously at her hair. Then the blonde was over on her back, and the brunette was on top. Terry flailed blindly at her now-defenseless adversary, punishing her with sharp-knuckled, stinging punches to her unprotected breasts and stomach. She couldn't put enough weight into the blows to do any serious damage, but the staccato attack drove the breath from Kathy's lungs and left her gasping helplessly, too winded to struggle.
Fortunately for Kathy, Terry herself was beginning to tire and her rage was subsiding. The Lesbian rose and stood gloatingly over her beaten foe. The fallen girl was panting raggedly, technically conscious, but too absorbed with the desperate struggle to fill her lungs with oxygen to be able to prevent Terry from doing whatever she wanted with her.
The brunette crouched over Kathy and stripped the policewoman's skirt away in a single, ripping movement. The blonde was clad only in her sheer pink panties, garter belt and nylons now. Her shiny hair was fanned out in enticing disarray on the thick dark grass that cushioned her head. "Baby, you're my meat now," Terry hissed at her, not really caring whether the gasping girl heard her.
Kathy moaned a feeble protest when she felt her garter belt being unsnapped, but she was still too weak to manage even a vigorous wiggle of resistance. Her nylons followed the garter belt down over her trim ankles. She expected her panties to go next, and she tried desperately to summon up the strength to resist that final indignity. Instead, the panties stayed on. Terry scissored Kathy's legs across one another, neatly turning the blonde over on her stomach.
Kathy felt something being knotted around her ankle, identifying it by texture a moment later as one of her nylons. Then her leg was levered painfully forward until her heel touched the smooth surface of the panties that stretched tight across her buttocks. While her leg was held firmly in that position, the loose end of her stockings was looped through the chain that joined her cuffed wrists. Then her other leg was forced into place and securely tied at the ankle.
The job of trussing up Kathy now out of the way, Terry roughly rolled the blonde over on her back. She smiled maliciously at the involuntary scream that escaped her victim's lips as the strained muscles of Kathy's firm-fleshed body rebelled against the cramping agony of her unnatural position. The helpless girl stretched her heels wide, trying to move her tightly bound ankles out from under the torturing weight of her own tensed buttocks. The effort forced her knees high in the air, her silk-covered crotch pointing directly up at Terry's lustful eyes. The pain was so intense that Kathy's overloaded nervous circuits failed to register the sensation of her flimsy panties being ripped away or the scrabbling of eager fingers through the golden curls of her pubic triangle.
The policewoman's agony didn't diminish with time, but it did become more familiar. Then Kathy was suddenly, humiliatingly aware of the slithering progress of Terry's fingers up and down the length of her damp slit and of the grinding pressure of Terry's thumb against the tiny red knob of Kathy's clitoris. "Stop it! Stop, you disgusting queer!" she rasped at the Lesbian, but her instinctive wriggling resistance sent new bursts of pain shooting through her tormented body.
"Stop it? Is that what you want?" Terry laughed harshly. "I own your cunt now, and I'll use it any way I please." As if to emphasize the point, she slipped her middle finger into Kathy's tight channel, forcing it deeper and deeper until the knuckles of her clenched fist were digging into the blonde girl's tender vagina. With her free hand, she reached up and captured one of Kathy's rigid nipples between her thumb and forefinger and began plucking insistently at the firm pink bud.
"Now you're going to get something nice and soft stuck in your pussy," the Lesbian gloated. She shifted her position slightly and forced Kathy's knees to open still wider, the movement causing the other girl's cuntal lips to gape lewdly apart. Then she plunged her face into the exposed pink moistness. Hungrily, Terry nuzzled her lips and nose between Kathy's plump labia, licking dementedly at the hot musky flesh of her inner slit. Her tongue sought Kathy's bud, found it, and lashed it into unwilling, tingling erection.
"Damn you!" Kathy screamed. "Damn you to hell!" Her cramped arms and legs felt as if they were on fire, her wrists were already rubbed raw by their metal restraints, and her vagina twitched at the degrading attention being forced on it. Worst of all, she was tortured by the fear that her body would betray her by responding automatically to the pleasurable, if unwanted, caresses of Terry's tongue.
As if reading the thought, Terry directed her tongue to the portal of Kathy's vagina, twisting, poking, probing, working it ever deeper into the slowly lubricating passage. Her greedy lips sucked rhythmically at the wet, spongy flesh bounding the tiny opening, while her tongue continued to snake its way up the yielding tube.
Kathy's breath escaped through her teeth in soft, grudging hisses as she fought to control herself, to deny Terry the satisfaction of hearing her panting and moaning. Thank God for the pain that lanced through her taut body! It was the only thing that was preventing this filthy little bitch from forcing Kathy to have an orgasm.
Terry sensed that she wasn't going to be able to make the other girl come, though she would have loved to inflict that humiliation on her victim, but she continued her licking and sucking anyway, reveling in the knowledge that Kathy was hating every minute of it. When she finally stopped, after minutes that had seemed like hours to Kathy, it was only because her jaws ached with fatigue and her own steaming pussy demanded relief.
She walked away from Kathy briefly. When she returned, she had the gun. She squatted beside the blonde girl's head and stretched the gun out toward one of her cushiony breasts. For one terrible instant, Kathy thought Terry would pull the trigger. Instead, the Lesbian only brushed the cold metal of the barrel lightly across Kathy's nipple, laughing triumphantly when the pink pleasure-button swelled briefly at the touch.
Much as the sadistic teen-ager would have liked to prolong her toying play with her victim, the consuming sexual need of her own body was now too strong to be denied. She shifted her position so that she was straddling Kathy's head, facing toward the other girl's feet, and centered her vagina directly above the policewoman's soft oval lips.
"Forget it!" Kathy spat. "You're not going to make me-mmmmfft!" Her words were cut off as Terry forced her musky womanhood savagely against Kathy's mouth.
"Lick it!" the Lesbian commanded, her voice crackling with her dark joy. "Start sucking and licking, if you know what's good for you!" Instead, the policewoman kept her mouth tightly closed and twisted her head frantically, trying to throw off her obscene gag. "Think about your friend Halloran," Terry shouted. "And think about this!"
Kathy felt the hard muzzle of her own revolver being poked brutally into the center of her lush pubic triangle.
God! Just the idea of being shot there! Besides, this had all been for Dave's sake, and Kathy couldn't fail him now. Her reluctant tongue probed between the damp folds of Terry's sparsely fringed vulva. Her unwilling lips sucked feverishly, drinking up the salty-sweet juices that flowed from the other girl's molten cunt. Kathy had never gone this route before, but she imitated what Terry had done to her. If she had to do this horrible thing, she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, and that meant satisfying her captor's lust.
Apparently she was succeeding, for Terry was moaning with pleasure and moving her thin buttocks in tight, frantic little circles against Kathy's mouth. She was getting so close to coming ... so close ... and she could feel the sweet ecstasy building up in her contracting womb.
Terry's head was thrown back, her eyes tightly closed. She flattened her plundering vagina against Kathy's soft lips, grinding her vulva into the blonde girl's strong white teeth, and grunting in mad animal joy. Then the floodgates opened, and the steaming fruits of her passion poured into Kathy's mouth and ran hotly down her throat.
Caught up in the exultant delirium of her orgasm, Terry relaxed her grip on the revolver that rested against Kathy's mound. It slid downward, the barrel gliding easily across the broad expanse of pink flesh between Kathy's splayed cuntal lips and touching her clitoris. Kathy's legs jerked convulsively at the cold contact, causing Terry to open her eyes and looked down the length of the other girl's body.
She saw what had happened and, to her surprise, she saw that Kathy's vagina was beginning to seep the fluids of involuntary passion. Somehow, unexplainably, the policewoman's body was responding to this ruthless Lesbian rape. Perhaps it was Terry's earlier stimulation of Kathy's defenseless vagina; perhaps it was the very depravity of the situation, crowned by the masochistic pleasure of the cold gun metal touching her clitoris. Whatever the cause, the young blonde was obviously close enough to an orgasm to be forced over the edge.
Terry laughed with sadistic delight and began rubbing the gun barrel lightly back and forth across Kathy's swollen, pulsing bud. Dutifully, Kathy's pussy responded, though her mind tried to deny the natural impulses of her body. Why did her own desires have to betray her like this! Mentally and emotionally, she was revolted by the very idea of being masturbated by a revolver held in the vile hand of a Lesbian, yet her rebellious vagina persisted in throbbing rapturously at Terry's attentions.
The Lesbian's eyes were locked on the juncture of Kathy's thighs. She smiled grimly as she noted the increasingly obvious physical evidence of her victim's response, taking a cruel amusement in watching how Kathy's vagina was now twitching out of control. With each convulsion of her blonde-fringed vulva, fresh juices spewed from the policewoman's pussy and trickled into the puffy little mouth of her anus. Her stomach muscles rippled mechanically, working down toward her flowing vagina in waves of spasming flesh as if she were trying to force still more cum from the narrow tube of her cunt. Then she gasped a muffled cry into the hair-lined folds of Terry's vagina. Her body went rigid, every straining muscle suddenly pulled taut, and the final, gushing burst of hot cum exploded from her twisting pussy.
Terry rolled off her exhausted captive and lay silently beside her for several minutes, the cooling touch of the sweet, damp grass soothing her still-feverish flesh. Jesus! That was SO GOOD! Even better than that first time, when she took Jane Peterson.
At last she got up and put on her clothes. Kathy still lay on the ground in the same position as when Terry dismounted from her ravaged mouth. Her eyes were closed, as if she were trying to shut out the degrading memory of how she had responded to the other girl's perverted passion. "C'mon, get up!" Terry ordered. Bill Winslow would already be furious at the girls' delay in getting to the club.
Because of the need for haste, Terry didn't bother letting Kathy get dressed. Instead, she forced the girl to crouch down on the floor of the front seat and covered her with a blanket. From the way Kathy looked at her, Terry realized that it wouldn't have been a good idea in any case to remove the policewoman's cuffs long enough for her to put on her clothes.
The young Lesbian amused herself during the ride back to town by taunting Kathy about how she had responded to being jerked off by a gun. The blonde rode in silence, promising herself that she would later answer Terry's words with actions, if she lived long enough to get the opportunity. She knew that the worst of this night's work was still before her.
9
"It's about fuckin' time!" Bill Winslow snapped at Terry as she eased through the door of the club. Her left arm was extended behind her, holding the edges of the blanket wrapped around Kathy Harper so that they didn't gape too revealingly. She was towing the policewoman along like a reluctant pet being dragged on a leash.
Bill let his eyes flick over Kathy's softly rounded curves, liking what he saw, and turned his attention back to Terry. "All right, you skinny little bitch, what took you so long?" he demanded.
"I thought I deserved a reward after picking up this prize package for you clowns, so Kathy and I parked for. a while. I hope you don't find the leavings too picked over." Terry's voice crackled with defiance. She suddenly ripped the blanket away from Kathy, exposing the blonde's lush nakedness, and smiled insolently at Bill.
The gang members gasped in chorus, half at Kathy's breathtaking loveliness and half at the unprecedented daring of one of their number standing up to Bill. Winslow himself was so stunned that he stood frozen for several long seconds, his mouth working soundlessly as he groped for a comeback equal to Terry's flatfooted challenge of his authority. Then he raised his hand high in the air, his face a mask of rage ... that suddenly changed completely. He started laughing, his body shaking with unfeigned, gut-gripping mirth.
"I probably should beat hell out of you," he choked out between seizures, "but I admire your goddamn gall. Christ, you'll probably be kicking me out of the gang next!"
The others in the room joined in his laughter, except for Kathy Harper. She knew that when the laughter died, the gang would be giving her their undivided attention.
The laughing stopped all too soon. Without a word, Bill began peeling off his clothes, looking mockingly into Kathy's eyes as he stripped. As if on command, the other members of the gang were now removing their clothing, even Terry and the other girl, the busty redhead. Kathy wondered if the second girl shared Terry's Lesbian tastes.
Ellen answered the question for her. "This time I know that there'll be guys who can't wait their turn," she said. "I never saw a cop put together like this before."
"Where's Halloran?" Kathy demanded, ignoring the snickers that followed Ellen's last remark. '"You were supposed to have Halloran here."
"She wants to know where her boy friend is," Dave said to Angie. The boys smirked at each other. "Well, Miss Police Pussy, we don't have that other cop here. Matter of fact, we never had him anywhere."
Kathy's first reaction was relief at learning that Dave was safe after all. Then she was angry, angry with Bill and the others for tricking her, angry with Terry for raping her under the pretext that Dave's safety depended on Kathy's cooperation, and, most of all, angry with herself for being so easily taken in by a bunch of kids. Halloran had been so right when he said she didn't have the instincts of a good cop. Instincts? Hell, that was being kind! She didn't have the brains!
"You contemptible little bastard," she hissed at Bill. "What's this all about? Why did you want me to come here tonight?"
Bill laughed. "I thought you cops were trained to be observant," he said. Lazily, he tapped his elevated penis. It bobbed up and down obscenely, and Kathy blushed at the lewd sight.
"Why me?" she asked. "If all you wanted was ... a woman, why go to all this trouble to get me in particular?"
"You killed a boy a few days ago," Bill told her. "Have you forgotten it so soon?"
Of course! This was the rest of the boy's gang! Kathy knew now that she could expect no mercy, and she thought of the coed whose mind had been broken by these same vicious punks. They hadn't even had a reason to do their worst to her; her rape had been for pleasure. Kathy's would be for revenge and, when it was all over, she knew they would have to kill her. As Bill had said, she was trained to observe, and she had had a good look at all their faces, not to mention that she knew the general location of their club. She was going to spend the last hours of her life satisfying the whims of a gang of perverts; then she would be callously murdered.
"We've got great plans for you, Kathy," Bill was saying now. "Nick and Angie and Crazy have been helping me think of a suitable entertainment for you. Before I tell you about that, though, I bet you'd like to be introduced to your hosts." He gave her a sarcastic smile.
"Sure," Kathy said, "I'll want to know your names when I write this party up for the social columns." She didn't feel nearly as brave as she was trying to sound.
Bill said, "That's the spirit, Kathy. Think of this as a party. It's nice to have a party where everyone can come."
The other gang members laughed at the emphasis he put on the last word. "You see that chair over there?" he continued. It was a plain wooden chair, and it sat in the center of the room. Several short lengths of rope were on the floor beside it. "Well, that chair is going to play a big part in the entertainment. We talked about giving you a little something to help you get in the spirit of things, but we didn't want your mind to be all fogged up. I want you to enjoy every minute of the fun!" The last was snarled, as Bill finally dropped his bantering pose and let his maniacal hatred for Kathy show through.
Kathy said nothing in reply, and Bill turned to his buddies. "Jesus! It'd be a pleasure to ball this chick just to get even for Deek, but she's a first-class piece of ass in her own right. Look at all that prime meat!" Again, the guys laughed at Bill's crude wit. "I almost wish now that we could turn her on with a few pills. It'd be great to have that hot cunt fucking right back at you."
"You won't have to give her any pills," Terry said. "She hated it with me, but I still made her come, even though she tried like hell not to. If you can believe it," she continued proudly, "she actually went crazy just from being fucked with the barrel of her own gun."
The gang members roared with derisive mirth, and Kathy felt as if she were blushing right down to the tips of her naked toes. The shame of responding to this despicable little queer was bad enough without having all these punks know about it. She hated all those smug faces that smiled at her with gleeful superiority.
Unfortunately for Terry, her bid for attention had attracted some of the unwanted variety. Bill was reminded again of her insubordination. "Say, Terry," he said, "it's just great that you've helped get Kathy ready for us. Now you can help me to get ready for her." His voice was cold.
"What do you mean?" Terry asked, not wanting to believe that she already knew the answer.
"A girl with such a talented mouth should share it with the world, Terry."
The room was suddenly very quiet. The others were used to Bill having everything his own way, but he had never before exercised his power over one of them so brutally. Still, since the Lesbian strain in Terry had surfaced, their feelings toward her had changed. If Bill had tried to pull something like this on Ellen, maybe the others would have had the courage to stand up for her, but not for Terry, not now.
"I've never gone that route before, and you know it!" Terry tried to sound as if that settled the matter, but her voice had a pleading quality.
"If you can eat pussy, you can suck cock!" Bill answered. "Now stop wasting time. You know we can make you do it."
At the word "we", Terry looked around the room for any evidence of support from her friends. Ellen was the only one who could look her in the eye.
"Hell," the redhead told her, "it's not bad, Terry. Matter of fact, I kind of like it."
Nick giggled, and Angie made loud smacking noises with his lips.
Resigning herself to the inevitable, the brunette crossed the room and squatted in front of Bill. Without any further hesitation, she gripped the shaft of his penis in her hand and guided the bulbous head into her mouth. Despite himself, Bill had to admire her backbone. She was too proud to humiliate herself any further by useless begging.
Terry sucked mechanically on the already rigid cock, obviously not enjoying it, but not hating it enough to give Bill any satisfaction on that score. With the sure instinct that had made him their leader, Bill felt the gang's sympathies begin to waver between him and Terry. If she had made a tearful spectacle of herself, they would have had only contempt for her. As it was, however, her air of dignified sacrifice was making Bill look like the villain of the piece.
He pulled his hips back from her, dragging his penis from between her thin lips, and said, "I'm sorry you made this necessary, Terry. Follow orders in the future, huh? It's for everyone's good." He took pains to make the words sound friendly and magnanimous, and he could feel the tension in the room fading. He smiled to himself. A small display of "generosity" and everyone was on his side again. His friends would spend the rest of their lives following Bill, or others like him.
"Nick, Angie, Crazy," he snapped, "let's get it on with the lady cop." He walked to the chair he had pointed out to Kathy and sat down, his stiff penis angling upward from his lap, while his friends dragged the manacled girl over to him. "Terry, I hope you have the key to those cuffs," he said.
When her arms were free, Kathy made a token show of resistance, trying to squirm free of her captors' sweaty hands, but she knew it was hopeless. Nick and Angie held her firmly by either arm, and the huge Crazy stood behind her, his powerful arms locked around her small waist.
Bill reached out for her now, his arms going out and around her thighs, his hands gripping her by the tight-fleshed rounds of her buttocks. Then all four boys were pushing and pulling at her, forcing her inexorably toward Bill until her ankles were spread wide apart on either side of the chair and her warm-lipped vagina was poised scant inches above his blue-veined penis.
Nick and Angie pulled downward on her arms, maneuvering her onto the distended cock, and Bill helped to guide her with the eager hands that still clutched at her ass. When the engorged glans of his prick touched her vulva, Kathy reacted as if she had been touched with a red-hot poker, the muscles of her inner thighs cording with the effort of her struggle, her tightly held arms yanking fiercely against the hands that restrained them.
Despite her desperate resistance, she was forced farther and farther downward, feeling waves of nausea wash through her soft belly as Bill's penis was slowly inched into her cringing channel.
When fully half the length of his swollen cock had been forced up her reluctant vagina, Bill said, "Crazy, get the ropes." He gasped the words out between clenched teeth.
The lush blonde's wriggling resistance was already causing a fierce tingling sensation to vibrate through his shaft.
Crazy grasped one of Kathy's slender ankles and pulled her foot toward the back of the chair until her leg was fully extended, angling downward past the rear leg of the chair. He lashed her lower calf securely to the rung of the chair to prevent the rope from sliding up and down the leg. While he repeated the procedure with Kathy's other leg, Nick and Angie pulled her arms through the back of the chair, binding them at the elbows.
She was now pressed close to Bill's torso, her nipples brushing against his collarbone, her splayed thighs gripping his, her unwilling vagina engulfing the first few inches of his erect organ. She threw herself violently backward, trying to escape the lewd contact with Bill, but her bonds held her firmly in place. Bill laughed harshly at her futile effort, and Kathy, realizing that she couldn't move her upper body away from his, tried instead to raise her hips in the air, to move off his impaling penis. Then she discovered why the boys had positioned her so carefully, why they had tied her by her calves and elbows instead of her wrists and ankles. She couldn't pull free of Bill's cock! Strain as she might, her plump vulva could be lifted no higher than perhaps an inch below the hard knob at the end of his prick.
"Ummmm, I like it when you move around like that, baby," Bill said huskily. In response, Kathy held her body defiantly rigid, keeping herself as high on his shaft as she could and concentrating on not making the slightest quiver. At last, however, her cramping calves and aching arms compelled her to let her hips drop across his thighs, his intruding penis sliding wetly to its full length up her narrow passage. Inevitably, Bill said, "I like it when you do that, too."
They sat silently like that for two or three minutes, Bill savoring the helplessness of the lady cop's position, Kathy growing ever more humiliatingly aware of the fact that he could keep his filthy thing in her all night if he wanted to. Then Bill worked one hand between their tightly pressed torsos and captured one of her bulbous breasts, maneuvering it close to his lips and capturing the tender nipple between his teeth. The tip of his tongue flicked at it, probing delicately at first, then flipping the pink bud rapidly up and down while his lips sucked greedily at it. He gave a muffled chuckle of satisfaction as he felt the nipple pulsing into hardness, swelling with her warm blood.
His free hand skittered across the top of her thigh to where her hair-lined crotch was wetly joined to his. His fingers groped for a moment, searching her musk-scented slit just above the point where his cock burrowed into the warm tunnel of her vagina, until he located the tiny red knob of her clitoris. It, too, was soon teased into involuntary erectness as Bill's expert touch sent unwanted tingles of pleasure shivering through her narrow passage.
He pulled his lips from her suction-reddened nipple, still holding her large breast in his lustful fingers, and said, "I think she's ready for the feather, Angie." There was the sound of hurried scuffling movements behind Kathy; then Angie was holding a fluffy feather in front of her face. It was a bright orange plume, apparently from a woman's hat.
"This will really tickle you, honey," Angie said. He moved behind her again, crouching close to her buttocks. Crazy bent down across her back and stretched the twin rounds of her ass wide apart, exposing the tiny elastic ring that nestled between them. Angie leaned forward and began delicately brushing the feather against Kathy's puckered brown wafer. He laughed as Kathy tried to squirm away from the maddening tickle in her rear channel.
The feather continued its unbearable teasing caresses of the blonde's sensitive anus until her breath was hissing between her teeth in rhythm with each lewd stroke. Kathy wriggled uncomfortably, shifting her weight back and forth across Bill's thighs, the movement making him grunt with pleasure; and the sliding contact of his penis with the spongy walls of her vagina was having an effect on the young policewoman!
Her twisting movements now came not in response to the tickling of her little brown starfish, but from her own irresistible need to maintain her cuntal friction against Bill's pulsing rod. Each grinding tweak of her clitoris between his thumb and forefinger sent hot buzzing sensations coursing through the rigid bud. "Ooooo ... Ohhhh ... OH!" she moaned ecstatically, vainly trying to suppress the lewd noises, but unable to control her own rising passion.
Angie threw aside the orange feather and popped his finger up to the first knuckle inside the tight rubbery ring of her anus. Kathy's legs went poker stiff at the unexpected invasion, her slick cunt suddenly riding far up the length of Bill's impaling prick, and Angie rammed his finger home in the moist, dark depths of her bowels. "Ugh ... ugh ... uuuugh," Kathy grunted with pain. Her hopeless efforts to twist away from the degrading rectal intrusion made her plump vulva revolve maddeningly around the knobby head of Bill's penis.
Gradually, Kathy grew more accustomed to the pressure of Angie's digging finger. The muscles of her rectum began to relax, easing the intolerable stretching sensation between her perspiration-soaked buttocks. Then she became aware of the stiff cock that was just barely nuzzled inside the mouth of her cunt, and suddenly her vagina seemed achingly empty. She slammed her hips back down into Bill's lap, taking his iron-hard penis deep into her belly and letting the bulbous head of it grind against her cervix. Despite the despair and self-loathing she felt at being aroused by her youthful rapists, she surrendered completely to the demands of her shameless cunt, pumping her hips frantically up and down the length of Bill's penis.
As she raised her ass in the air in a frenzied upstroke, she felt Angie's finger pull free of her clinging rectum, her little brown anus puckering out around the withdrawing digit as if reluctant to let it go. As she plummeted her hips downward again Angie's meaty penis plunged to its full length up her rear passage.
Thank God he had lubricated it! Kathy could feel the slimy coating on his rod greasing her channel as his swollen cock buried itself between her soft buttocks, her rectum stretching to accommodate the bulky invader. The pressure in her bottom relaxed as she again lifted herself high on Bill's pecker. She smashed her ass back into Bill's sweaty thighs, unable to deny herself the rapture of having his penis inside her, even if it meant she must accept Angie's anal rape as the price of her desire.
She could feel the pulsing pricks of the two boys rubbing together through the thin wall separating her vagina from her rectum, and the perverted dual intercourse made her feel almost sick with self-disgust-AT FIRST! Then the tingling ecstasy in her churning cunt seemed to be flowing into her rectum, as if she had a single gigantic hole between her thighs and both boys were fucking in and out of it together, pressing their bulging cocks against a thousand sensitive nerve endings that one man alone could never stimulate.
"Ahhhh!" she sighed loudly, pistoning her buttocks wildly up and down, accepting Angie's anal assaults as eagerly now as Bill's penetrations to the dark recesses of her womb. "You like it, don't you?" Bill asked hoarsely. "You love getting fucked!" Kathy was too proud to answer him, her mind refusing to acknowledge the degrading fact of her total sexual acquiescence, but she couldn't stop the wild rocking of her fevered loins. If anything, she moved more frenziedly, stimulated by Bill's lewd words. "Fucking you ... fucking you deep ... way up your cunt," he rasped, sensing the effect his obscene mouthings were having on the blonde policewoman.
"Shit," Ellen said to Nick, "this is starting to get me turned on. You want to ball right now?" Nick shook his head. He had missed the best part of taking Jane Peterson by dulling the edge of his desire on Terry, and he didn't intend to make the same mistake with this beautiful, hot-assed lady cop. "Crazy," Ellen said hopefully, "how about you?" Again, a negative response.
"I've got a suggestion for you," Terry said.
"Never mind your suggestion," Ellen snapped. "I'll wait until one of the guys is ready to go again." She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long.
Kathy Harper had obviously reached her climax. Her pelvis strained downward into Bill's loins, forcing the boys' cocks deep into her soft belly. Her head was thrown back, her eyes glazed, and she whipped her torso from side to side, brushing her perspiration-sheened nipples against the wiry hair on Bill's chest.
"OooooEEEE!" she screamed rapturously, her hotly clasping pussy and rectum contracting around the pricks of her rapists, reflexively sucking the distended organs into the warm depths of her ravaged body.
Angie groaned loudly. His throbbing penis exploded its white sticky load wetly into Kathy's bowels. As if on signal, Bill's prick started jerking wildly inside her slippery vagina, pumping his hot cum into her spasming belly. The love juices of both boys spewed obscenely from the policewoman's plundered orifices, drenching her inner thighs and pushing her to the summit of her own orgasm. "Oh, fu-uh-UCK!" she sobbed at the exquisite agony that twisted her pussy into tightly bunched knots of pleasure. Her shoulders twitched once, twice, three times, and her satiated vagina mingled its own lustful fluids with Bill's, the mixture gushing from her rippling vulva and running ticklishly down his scrotum and into the crease between his buttocks.
"Goddamn," Angie said wearily as he eased his deflated cock from Kathy's sperm-soaked anus. He sagged limply to the floor. Kathy, too, was spent, her body completely drained by the orgy. She hardly noticed when Bill ducked his head under one of her arms and squeezed out from under her, his soggy penis dragging snaillike across her ribs, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.
"I suppose I'd be wasting my time," Ellen said to Angie and Bill, "if I tried to get either of you guys ready to go again."
Bill gave her a tired smile of agreement, and Angie didn't even bother to do that.
"Fuck!" the redhead exploded.
"Honey," Bill said, "that's the last thing in the world we're likely to do right now, the way things stand-or I should say the way our things won't stand."
Terry laughed at the remark, earning a sour look from Ellen.
"Too bad for your side, Ellen," Nick said. "I'm going to take care of my problem right now. You don't mind if I go next, Crazy?" He didn't bother to wait for the answer, just walked over and stood behind Kathy.
The young blonde started slightly when he reached around her and grasped her heavy breasts, but she didn't struggle. Apparently resigned to the inevitable, Kathy continued to sag against the back of the chair, ignoring Nick's groping fingers. Annoyed by her lack of response, the boy squeezed her satiny globes more insistently, and the soft flesh bulged between his splayed fingers.
When this, too, got no reaction, not even a whimpering cry of pain, he let one of his hands drop to her passion-dampened thighs, trailing his fingers up and down the length of her warm slit.
Ellen moved around in front of the chair, Terry following close behind, and watched avidly as Nick's fingers explored the blonde girl's vulnerably open crotch. While the policewoman still showed no sign of reacting to his touch, just watching it seemed to be affecting Ellen. She squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing her trembling vulva between her tightly clenched thighs, and slid one hand down over the plane of her flat belly to her lush auburn triangle. Her fingers wormed their way between her cuntal lips and teased at the moist pink flesh of her inner slit.
Tiring of his unsuccessful effort to arouse Kathy, Nick wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her buttocks off the chair. He eased his pelvis in close to her, his quivering penis seeking her vagina, and gasped pleasurably as his cock glided smoothly inside the velvety channel. He slid his hands under her ass and began jiggling her up and down on his impaling prick.
Ellen was masturbating herself shamelessly, not caring about the derisive encouragement that Bill and Angie called to her. Nothing in the world mattered except stopping the unendurable itch that tormented her hungry cunt. Terry watched the redhead with shiny eyes, waiting for the opportunity she knew she would soon have to sample the sweetness of Ellen's body.
Nick continued to rock the dead weight of the blonde policewoman up and down on his stiff prong, encouraged somewhat by the soft panting noises she was beginning to make. Hell, as hot as she'd been before, she just had to start cooperating with him sooner or later. He hoped it would be sooner; his forearms were beginning to cramp from the strain of supporting her buttocks.
Ellen was in an ecstatic state now. Her fingers flailed madly at her yearning vagina, her breasts bouncing in time with the frenzied rhythm of her pleasuring hand, and her ripe body undulated in a savage go-go dance of naked lust. This was the moment that Terry had so eagerly waited!
The brunette stepped in close behind her red-haired friend, reaching her arm around Ellen's waist and pulling her ample buttocks back against Terry's hotly pressing pubic mound. The Lesbian's free hand sought Ellen's full-lipped slit, confidently pushing aside the girl's self-gratifying fingers and slipping inside the warm nest of her vagina.
Ellen stiffened momentarily under Terry's touch, and the thinner girl whispered, "Relax, baby. I'm going to make it so good for you." Her fingers tapped out a message of undreamed sensual pleasure on the other girl's clitoris, a message that was transmitted through her trembling channel and into her dark womb. Yielding herself up to the lascivious sensation, Ellen resumed her primitive swaying dance of sexual rapture, moving now to the beat of Terry's drumming fingers.
Kathy's unbelieving eyes were locked on the two girls, watching the Lesbian's thin white fingers as they stroked feverishly inside the gaping pink mouth of the redhead's womanhood. It disgusted Kathy and, at the same time, excited her. Despite the fact that her mind was completely repelled by the lewd performance, her loins quivered with sexual tension as she watched the depraved spectacle, prevented by her own helpless fascination from closing her eyes or looking away.
Kathy silently cursed the female instincts that had betrayed her twice already tonight. Then, almost as if in response to Bill's crudely humorous cheering on of Ellen and Terry, the despairing blonde began moving back and forth on Nick's thrusting penis. She could feel her shamelessly welcoming vagina contracting around the boy's prick, drawing the stiff organ deep inside her, milking at it like a wetly sucking mouth.
"C'mon," Terry said hoarsely, urging Ellen to lay down on the dirty floor, where the Lesbian would have freer access to her friend's red-fringed treasure.
Ellen obeyed without having to be coaxed, spreading her strawberry-and-cream body open to Terry's lust, splaying her thighs in obscene invitation. The brunette accepted joyfully. Crouching by Ellen's waist, her fleshless buttocks turned toward the other girl's head, Terry let her fingers gambol in the wet playground of her friend's slippery cunt.
Kathy watched the flashing fingers do their willing work, her buttocks moving in unconscious imitation of the rhythm of Terry's rapidly pumping elbow. The arm-weary boy let his hands dangle at his sides now, enjoying the idea of letting the lady cop do all the work in her own rape. Jesus, did she have moves!
Kathy continued to watch as if hypnotized while the Lesbian drama before her moved toward its climactic scene. Terry suddenly pulled her fingers free of Ellen's seeping vagina and replaced them with her mouth. The redhead wriggled madly under Terry's lips, and Kathy thought she was struggling against the oral caress-until the glazed look of total abandonment in Ellen's eyes made it plain that she was actually writhing with delight at the Lesbian's licking and sucking.
When Terry drew her mouth away from the other girl's vagina and said, "Touch me," she didn't have to ask twice.
Ellen thrust two stiffly extended fingers into the brunette's hair-lined crotch, pistoning them in and out of the lasciviously twitching sleeve of Terry's pussy. Terry moaned softly and shifted her thighs to straddle Ellen's head. The redhead hesitated only for the space of a single breath before withdrawing her fingers from Terry's vagina; then her tongue was lashing at the erect clitoris of the other girl.
For Kathy, it was the final straw. She climaxed violently, unexpectedly, with shoulder-shaking force. Her large breasts bobbed crazily up and down, the resilient globes bouncing against each other and rebounding quiveringly apart. Her tingling vagina gripped Nick's penis so fiercely that she could feel the impression of the ring around his engorged glans, and her fragrant juices suddenly gushed from the inefficient seal of her vulva where it sucked at the base of his cock.
Then Nick was coming, too, groaning and cursing and shooting his own steaming fluids into the eager receptacle of her soft belly. Her vagina twisted convulsively around his shaft as the white sticky cum exploded inside her and ran down her channel, spewing from her cuntal lips as if her overfed, spasming pussy was vomiting the mingled fruits of their passion.
Terry and Ellen were also in the final throes of their lovemaking, each rocking out her climax against the other's wildly sucking mouth. Their final cries of fulfillment mingled with Nick's and Kathy's in a single shrieking cord of mind-shattering orgasm.
Nick pried himself free of Kathy, dropping exhaustedly beside the chair to which she was still bound. The two girls on the floor couldn't manage even that much effort. Terry slumped on top on Ellen, her cheek resting on the other girl's mound, while Ellen's chin nestled in the vee of Terry's splayed thighs.
Kathy, who had more reason than anyone else in the room to need rest, was about to get more exercise. Crazy, still completely fresh, was already untying the bonds that held the young policewoman in the chair. He dragged her unresisting body to the room's single cot and unceremoniously flopped her down on it. He paused to arrange her legs so that they dangled on either side of the cot, making her sperm-moistened vagina easily accessible to him; then he crawled on top of her and buried his huge cock in her yielding cunt.
Kathy was surprised to find that that tingling feeling between her thighs was returning, that her legs were automatically wrapping themselves around the boy's waist. Apparently this night's work had started a fire in her insatiable vagina, an ele mental force that would be extinguished only by burning itself out. Perhaps she was lucky, she thought, shocked at her own callous practicality. As long as she could keep them entertained, they might keep her alive. She prayed that the primitive animal-woman she had discovered inside herself was equal to the challenge she must face.
10
The hours passed slowly for Halloran, each moment conjuring up fresh images of what Kathy must be suffering at the hands of her teen-age captors. The depraved pictures that Buford had taunted Dave with supplied ample substance for his conjectures. He could still see Kathy's white body spread out on the billiard table that stood in this very room: Cleon Spivy bent over her, his face twisted in a grin of stupid lust, his bull-like cock buried between her thighs. And Buford! He could see Buford standing on the balls of his feet, his toes curled up in reflexive pleasure, rocking his obscene penis into Kathy's mouth!
Those pictures kept flashing across Dave's mind, the faces of Cleon and Buford blurring, slowly changing into the faces of boys that Dave didn't recognize. He wondered how many boys there were in the gang that had Kathy, how long it would take them to satisfy their perverted desires. Ironically, he could almost wish that their rape of the young blonde dragged on and on. When they tired of taking her....
"Remember how you slugged me with your gun?" Cleon Spivy interrupted Dave's unpleasant thoughts.
"How could I forget anything I enjoyed so much?" Halloran answered.
Cleon wasn't the best of company under any circumstances, and certainly not an interesting opponent in a wisecracking contest, but Dave was glad for the chance to talk to anyone. It took his mind off Kathy.
"Yeah, Halloran, well I enjoyed something, too.
I enjoyed fucking that girl friend of yours until her cunt squeaked." Cleon laughed at his own wit, laughing still harder when Dave cursed him and tugged uselessly at his bonds. "She's real soft there," the bodyguard continued. "It's like sticking your cock in warm glue. She hangs on like glue, too, when she gets the fucking message. You know what I mean. I'll bet you've got your share from her for watching out for her and her old man."
"You stupid-" Dave stopped suddenly. His helpless rage was only amusing Cleon. It would be more to the point to try to bait the slow-thinking thug into making a mistake. Buford had long since gone to bed, so his bodyguard had only his own scant intelligence to guide him. Maybe he could be taunted into coming within range of Dave's feet. Sure! A little luck, a kick in the right place, and Dave would be free to untie his hands and save Kathy.
"I guess I shouldn't begrudge you any fun you have with women," Dave said. "A man as ugly and stupid as you are ... well ... I suppose that the only way you could get a woman is by raping her. Of course, if she were a complete slut and awful drunk...."
Cleon reddened. "Listen, cop, I get plenty. Mister Buford's set me up with broads that are better than anything you've ever had, including your tight-assed Miss Pure."
Dave laughed sarcastically. "I'd forgotten how much money Buford has. It must cost him a real wad to get a woman to go to bed with you voluntarily."
"There's a lot of women who go for me, and they don't have to be forced or paid for it!" Cleon's voice was getting loud. He tried to sound matter-of-fact about his empty boast, but Dave could see that he was bluffing.
The policeman had managed to strike on the ox-like Cleon's only area of sensitivity, the fact that women were repelled by him.
"Now, now, Cleon," Dave said soothingly, "don't worry about it. I'm sure there's a woman someplace who could love you for yourself alone. In fact, I read somewhere about a scientist who wanted to breed a feeble-minded man with a female gorilla. If they had a daughter...."
With a cry of animal rage, Cleon started across the plush carpet toward Dave, drawing his gun as he came. This was Dave's big chance! The other man was too angry for caution, too intent on striking to consider defense. He was almost in reach now ... closer ... one more step!
There was a knock at the door in the next room. Cleon hesitated for a moment, glowering at Dave; then he turned and left the trussed cop alone in the game room. Dave silently cursed the unexpected caller. Whoever he was, he had really screwed up the play.
Cleon's leaden feet could be heard clomping their way back to Dave now, and there was another sound, a peculiar thumping and creaking noise that Halloran couldn't quite place. Then Cleon was standing in the doorway. He stood unnaturally still, with an expression on his apish face that might have been comical under different circumstances, his frightened eyes blinking stupidly and his mouth working soundlessly. He stumbled through the door, helped by an impatient nudge; then Dave knew what was wrong.
A man stood in the doorway behind Cleon, a big silver-haired, yellow-eyed he-wolf of a man. The ugly .45 in his massive fist looked almost tiny, and his eyes were as cold and deadly as the muzzle of his gun. This was a man who hated, a man who couldn't live in a world he must share with an enemy.
"So you can get around on only one crutch now," Dave said to Sam Harper. "When you stuck that chunk of wood through Buford's man, you were using two."
Sam smiled grimly and tapped the crutch with his gun. "One's been enough for some time now, except when speed and balance were essential." His eyes were restless, searching every corner of the room. "I left the other crutch outside. Couldn't figure out how to keep Cleon, here, covered and use both crutches. Been a shame if I'd stumbled on the way in here and accidentally shot out your spine, wouldn't it, Cleon?"
The hood didn't answer. He wasn't exactly the picture of abject terror, probably didn't have enough imagination to experience that kind of fear, but even Cleon was bright enough to know that Sam Harper was in a killing mood.
Sam turned his attention back to Dave. "Cleon is thanking his lucky star right now that he wasn't one of the guys who worked me over. I wonder what he was busy with the night that Buford sent those other punks after me. You know, Dave, maybe Cleon can even manage to stay alive tonight, if he cooperates. Let's see if he wants to stay alive. Where's Kathy, punk?"
"Where's Buford might be more to the point," Martin Buford said. "He's standing behind you, and he has an expensive little Italian automatic pointed right at the small of your back. You know what to do now, Harper."
He did. Without a word, Sam let his heavy .45 fall to the thick carpet of the game room. Then, putting both hands on the grip of his single crutch, he moved awkwardly into the room. Buford followed him through the doorway, moving cautiously, alert for any sudden heroism on Sam's part.
"Well, this is nice," he said. "It's just like old home week. Harper, you fine, murdering old devil, you may be the only man I've ever admired-and I'm not joking. I should have suspected something right away when that beating changed you into a human vegetable. I should have known a man like you doesn't break that easily."
"Where have you got Kathy?" Harper said.
"I'll tell you in my own good time," Buford said. "In the meanwhile, maybe you'll humor me by telling me how you missed her so soon. I didn't think you'd start to worry until tomorrow morning at the soonest."
"I sneaked out of my room tonight," Sam said, "and paid a social call on Johnny Dell. I suppose you know about him by now."
Buford nodded, and Sam continued his story. "When I got back home, Kathy was gone. The phone was off the hook-not just ajar, but all the way off-and that made me think I might owe you a visit. It wouldn't have been a wasted trip in any case, since I think you know by now whose turn followed Johnny Dell's."
Buford laughed. "How about you, Halloran? Were you in on this? Is that why you were so sure that I was going to die sometime soon?"
"No, I wasn't in Sam's confidence, if that's what you mean," Dave said. "I just added a few things up. You mentioned too many coincidences about the way your boys had been dying off. I arrived at the same conclusion, and I was surer than you could be that I wasn't behind those coincidences."
"You're too good a cop to have stopped there, Dave," Sam Harper put in. "What kind of solid evidence did you have to back up your hunch?" As he spoke, he edged closer to Dave's chair, perhaps just a little too awkwardly.
Dave knew his partner well enough to know that Sam Harper wanted him to stall for time. The old man was trying to set something up, though Dave didn't believe a cripple would stand much chance against Buford and Cleon. Nevertheless, he decided to go along with Sam.
"Buford probably isn't interested in all that," he said. It was all he could do to keep from smiling when Buford urged him to continue. He had figured that Buford would insist on hearing the story if he thought Dave really didn't want to tell it.
"Well," he began, "it was the punk who got it with the stake that first made me suspicious. That was a hell of a freakish accident. On the other hand, if it wasn't an accident, there was only one person who logically could have killed Ellis. I still didn't suspect you could walk, Sam, so I looked in the grass around the body, figuring I might find ruts made by your wheelchair.
"Of course, I couldn't figure out how you sneaked up on Ellis in a wheelchair, but what I found in the yard solved that problem. Your crutches made little round depressions in the ground. The grass sprang back up to cover them, so the other detectives didn't spot anything.
"I should have turned you in when I found those tracks, but I kidded myself that the evidence wasn't strong enough. I guess you know why I wanted to kid myself, Sam."
The older man nodded that he understood, and Dave said, "Of course, Johnny Dell's death made it almost impossible for me to close my eyes to what was going on. That's why Cleon was able to take me so easily; I was thinking about what turning you in would do to Kathy."
"How did Johnny's killing tip you off?" Buford asked. "Just because it was another suspicious coincidence?" If he noticed that Sam Harper was still moving closer to Dave's chair, he didn't show it.
"The way Dell's chest was caved in was the clincher," Dave said. "Not so much because of the coincidence, though of course that entered into it, but because there was a little black smudge on Johnny's shirt. That wouldn't have tipped me off to a crippled killer if I hadn't suspected Sam already. But since I was looking for a killer on crutches, I recognized that smudge as being made by the rubber tip of a crutch. Matter of fact, I think I remember Long John Silver crushing in someone's chest in Treasure Island, just like Dell's was."
"I should have known," Buford said. "Of course! That explains why a pro like Johnny muffed the simple job of running down an old man in a wheelchair. He said that Harper just seemed to fall backward into Kathy before the car would have hit them."
"Yeah," Dave said, "that was another clue along the way."
"Well, at least I tumbled in time to save my own life. I'm sure you and Sam will forgive me for thinking that that's the important thing."
"Personally, I'm overjoyed for you," Dave said dryly.
"Don't congratulate yourself too soon, Buford." Sam Harper's voice was flat and steady.
For the slightest fraction of a second, Buford's confidence wavered. Could it be that the old man still had something up his sleeve? He dismissed the thought. Christ, his nerves must be getting bad.
"Cleon," he snapped, "get a chair and made Mister Harper comfortable. Tie him in it. We wouldn't want him falling off and hurting himself."
Cleon shuffled across the room toward the nearest chair. As he did, Dave saw that the bodyguard was going to pass between Harper and Buford's little foreign gun. Buford saw it, too, but not soon enough! Even as the gangster yelled a warning to Cleon, Dave felt his chair creak under the quickly shifted weight of Sam Harper. With one hand, the big cop supported himself by grabbing the back of Dave's chair. The other hand punched Sam's crutch out toward Cleon's head, the rubber tip slamming solidly into the bodyguard's temple.
Buford's gun started pumping even before Cleon's limp body fell out of his line of fire, his first shot hitting his own man in the shoulder. The second, fired much too hurriedly, hit no one. Then the protecting body of Cleon was out of the way, and Sam Harper was completely exposed.
What followed could have actually taken only a few seconds, but to Dave Halloran it was all in slow motion, a horrible nightmare charade of violence and death. Buford continued firing, still much too fast. He had five shots left after wasting his first two, but he was too panicked to place one properly. Sure, it was easy to hit Harper's thick trunk, but a bullet between the eyes was the gangster's best hope. Instead, he threw away his five chances to live. Sam's huge torso soaked up Buford's bullets, and the old man just kept on coming.
But Sam Harper wasn't a man any more. He was a resurrected corpse, animated by the soul of a demon; he was something that children imagine waits for them in the dark. Even Dave Halloran was filled with terror at the dreadful sight of Sam's unrelenting pursuit of the now-backpedaling gangster.
Crazy as it was, Halloran almost pitied Buford. The gangster was a pathetic little figure, his only protection a pathetic little gun. The gigantic figure of Sam Harper, supported by the single crutch, lurched inexorably closer to his prey. There was something in his almost comic, half-hopping, progress that made him seem doubly frightening, as if he were something more-or less-than human.
Even after Buford's gun stopped firing, the gangster kept on pulling the trigger, the futile clicks drowned out by the sound of Harper's ragged, pained breathing. Buford took one, two, three more backward steps, his wildly rolling eyes bulging horribly from their sockets; then his shoulders touched the wall.
Harper let the crutch drop, the big man falling forward across Buford like a crashing tree. The hoodlum had time to scream once as he fell to the floor; then the old man's hands locked tightly around Buford's throat, shutting off the sound. The gangster twisted his head to one side, his face contorted with naked terror. There was a wet, snapping sound, and Martin Buford was simply snuffed out. Harper's great strength had save him the trouble of slowly strangling his enemy.
Without pausing to gloat over his victory, or even to rest for the space of two or three deep breaths, Harper moved off Buford's corpse and started crawling back toward Dave. He left a trail of blood in his wake.
"Quick! Untie me before Cleon comes to!" Dave called out to him. Instead, Sam inched his way painfully over to the fallen bodyguard and retrieved the .45 Cleon had taken from him.
"Push your hands away from the back of the chair," Sam commanded. "A little more to that side. That's good! Hold it right there." Sam steadied his gun and, just as Dave realized what he intended to do, neatly parted the ropes binding Halloran's wrists.
"Nice shooting," Dave said, but his voice was shaky. He slipped his arms out of the ropes that lashed his elbows to the chair. "Better give me the gun now, Sam."
"Later," the older man answered. "See what you can do about reviving our friend."
With the help of a few cracking blows across his ugly face, Cleon regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered slowly open, blinking stupidly as they took in the scene before him, and then fastened on Dave Halloran.
"My shoulder hurts," he said.
"Cleon, you've got maybe five seconds to tell me where Kathy is." Sam Harper's gun was trained on Cleon's face. Dave started to open his mouth, but an angry wave of the gun closed it again. There was plainly no use in trying to reason with Harper. Besides, he probably stood a better chance than Dave would of getting Cleon to talk.
"Cleon," Sam said, "let me explain this so that even a moron like you can understand it. You know where my daughter is, and she's going to die unless you tell me. If you don't tell me, I'm going to make sure I put a bullet through your head before I die. And I don't feel like I have much time left to fool around with you."
"Fuck you!" Cleon spat at him.
Sam didn't bother to ask a second time. With what seemed to be the last ounce of his strength, he sighted his gun on the center of the thug's face. As he pulled the trigger, his hand trembled so badly that the shot missed, whistling narrowly past one of Cleon's jug ears.
Despite the grimness of the situation, Dave had trouble suppressing a smile. That "accidental" miss of Sam's sure convinced Cleon that the old man meant business.
Breathlessly, as if he couldn't tell them fast enough, the hoodlum blurted out the information Sam wanted. When he finished, he waited expectantly, perhaps hoping that someone would tell him he had been a good boy.
"All right, Sam. That's it," Dave said. "I'll phone for some help in getting Kathy back; then we'll get a doctor for you."
"No good," his old friend choked out. "I've had mine. If Cleon's lied to us, I won't be alive to find out." Before Dave could speak again, Sam Harper calmly shot Cleon's face off. It was the last thing he would ever do.
Dave was too stunned to move for a few minutes, even though Kathy's life depended on the speed of his reactions. The shock of everything that had happened that evening, including the death of his oldest friend, weighed crushingly on his soul. But the worse of it all had been seeing what bitterness and a warped sense of justice had done to Sam Harper. For Kathy's sake, for the sake of the man that Sam had once been, Dave was almost glad that the crippled maniac he had seen tonight was dead.
He crossed to the phone and dialed a familiar number.
11
Kathy Harper stared at the cracked stained ceiling. The only thing to look at was the room itself, filled with the lounging forms of her rapists, and she couldn't bear the reminder of the degrading orgy in which she had been forced to participate.
Her wrists were securely bound to the corners of the cot, and her silky white skin was marred by a dozen ugly bruises. The normally soft down that -lined her vulva felt unpleasantly stiff and prickly now, matted with the dried emissions of the boys' greedy penises and the fruits of her own involuntary passion. Still, it was better to have been gang-raped and kept alive than killed immediately. Even now she hoped that at least one of the boys would recuperate sufficiently to take her again and grant her that many more minutes of life.
As if in response to the thought, Angie walked over to the cot. "Baby," he said, "I really don't feel all that fired-up about a piece of ass right now, but it will probably be a hell of a long time before I get another crack at something as good as you. I might as well make the most of tonight."
Kathy said nothing; she didn't even shift her eyes from the ceiling to acknowledge his presence. The teen-ager poked at his limp penis and failed to get the slightest jerk of awakening life. "Come to think of it," he said, "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to take care of you again."
"I've got an idea," Terry said. "Why don't you try a French fuck to turn you on? Maybe Ellen would even be willing to work the lady cop's tits for you, seeing as how you're so tired."
"Sure," Ellen said. "I'm getting bored with just laying around anyway. How about it, Angie?"
"Let's get it on," he answered. He straddled Kathy's torso, planting one foot on the floor on either side of the cot, and sat on her lower chest. Then he gripped the head of his still-limp penis and stretched the length of the flaccid organ out in the valley between Kathy's cushiony breasts.
Ellen was already in position at the head of the cot. She grasped the blonde's breasts and spread them apart, letting Angie's sperm-encrusted penis fall farther between the soft globes; then she pushed them back together, trapping the boy's prick in their smooth-skinned warmth.
Kathy was long since resigned to her helplessness. She knew it was no good torturing herself by thinking about how perverted all this was. Instead, she concentrated on the thought that this newest indignity would buy her a few extra breaths of life. However, she was already having some trouble breathing with the weight of Angie crushing down on her chest.
Ellen began to roll Kathy's breasts against Angie's cock, stroking his flabby penis with the satiny mounds. He groaned at the touch, and Ellen began rotating Kathy's big tits in tight, swift circles, first brushing them lightly against his tantalized pecker, then squeezing it more firmly between the luscious globes.
Terry moved over to the cot now. Crouching by Kathy's knees, she stretched her arm out and began flipping the policewoman's clitoris up and down with her extended forefinger. A ticklish shiver coursed through Kathy's vagina as her sentinel of pleasure stiffened under the Lesbian's caresses. She opened her thighs a little wider in an unconscious gesture of response.
The fire was kindling in Kathy's sperm-filled belly again, and she knew it was useless to fight it. Terry's lashing finger was teasing her clitoris into that now-familiar, vibrating state of rapturous tension that could only be relieved by the soul-making, cum-gushing fulfillment of orgasm.
Angie, too, was becoming aroused, his penis twitching into hardness between her soft mounds, and even that unwanted contact was having its effect on the captive blonde. She could feel her nipples swelling into throbbing rigidity, as if the stiffness in his prick were penetrating her breasts and probing her tingling buds.
"Hey, Angie," Ellen said, "it looks to me like you're ready enough right now. You want to get on top of her?"
"Forget it," he hissed between clenched teeth. "This is great. Just keep on moving her tits around." He leaned forward, gripping the side of the cot to steady himself, and began rocking his pulsing cock in and out of the substitute vagina formed by Kathy's breasts. The wiry hair of his scrotum brushed ticklishly against her white flesh, and the sweat that dripped from his clenching buttocks ran coldly down her ribs in a thin trickle.
Fascinated and repelled at the same time, Kathy couldn't resist the impulse to crane her neck forward for a glimpse of his heavy prick. She could see the purplish head of it popping from between her tits and disappearing back into their warm shelter like a mouse timidly peeking from its nest and then quickly retreating.
Suddenly Terry plunged two fingers of her free hand into Kathy's vulnerable channel while the other hand continued to flail at the policewoman's distended clitoris. "Ohhhh," Kathy groaned throatily. Her feet shot up from the floor, coming to rest on the cot, and she pushed her buttocks high in the air, eagerly meeting each thrust of the brunette's fingers. Her hair-lined cunt tilted toward the ceiling, the vulva gaping open like the mouth of a baby bird.
"Keep it up, Terry," Angie rasped. "You're really getting to her."
Kathy's body twisted wildly beneath him, her breasts squirming against his thrusting penis, and Angie could feel the tension of approaching climax gather in his balls. The tip of his sensitive glans pearled out tiny drops of fluid, smearing the velvety inner surfaces of her rotating breasts and easing the passage of his quivering organ.
"Hold her tits still for a minute," he ordered Ellen. He withdrew his blue-veined cock from the tunnel of Kathy's breasts. Then he gripped his shaft and guided the seeping tip of it to one of the blonde's swollen pink nipples, painting the erect bud and the aureole with his semen. When that nipple was thoroughly coated with his gamy secretions, he switched to the other, first daubing it carefully with his fluid, then grinding his knobby glans into the tender bud, forcing it to retreat into the softness of her breast. Kathy cried out in pleasure/pain as the engorged head of his penis buried itself in the flesh of her cushioning mound, the writhing movement of her torso making her breast squirm beneath his mercilessly drilling cock.
He pulled his prick away from her, a slimy strand of fluid trailing behind it, and plunged the iron-hard organ between her breasts once more. "Here it comes, baby," he groaned in Kathy's face.
But the young blonde didn't hear him. She was in an ecstatic state, her head turning frantically from side to side on the rough canvas of the cot, her eyes glazed and unseeing. She was only dimly conscious of Angie's hot semen spurting against her chin and trickling down into the hollow of her throat. Her senses were totally absorbed with her molten cunt and the thin fingers that pumped relentlessly in and out of it.
Terry forced her fingers as far up the policewoman's vagina as they could reach, grinding her palm against Kathy's clitoris, trying to make her come at the same time as Angie. The Lesbian's fingers wriggled crazily inside Kathy's rippling sheath, searching for the trigger that would release the other girl's pent-up fluids. Then she found it!
"Aaaiiee!" Kathy screamed in mindless rapture. Her cuntal lips pulled tight around Terry's knuckles, then gaped open, spewing out her fragrant juices. Her hips revolved against the brunette's pleasure-giving hand, and the muscles of her white belly contracted rhythmically, as if in sympathy with her spasming pussy. "Oh Fuuuu-uh-uh-uh-UCKKKK!" she screamed, not hearing her own words. One final convulsion bunched her slippery vagina, crushing Terry's fingers painfully together, squeezing them downward until they were forced almost completely outside the policewoman's twisting cunt. Then Kathy's arching buttocks sagged back down on the cot. Once more, her demanding vagina had enforced its will.
"All right now, get away from her." It was Bill Winslow who spoke. "Ellen, get a rag and wipe that cum off her. Angie, untie her hands." When her bonds were removed, Bill said, "Crazy, you and Nick grab her by the arms and bring her over here."
Acting under his direction, the two boys dragged Kathy over to Bill and forced her to kneel on the floor in front of him. Their strong hands held her arms outstretched in an attitude of helpless supplication.
"We wouldn't want to send you off without giving you breakfast," Bill said, leering at her. Before she could answer, he thrust his hips forward, his already stiff penis seeking her mouth.
Kathy twisted her face away from him, but resistance was futile. Bill only laughed and grabbed a handful of her fine blonde hair, yanking on it until her pain compelled her to turn her face toward him. He caught her nostrils between his thumb and forefinger, pinching off her air. When Kathy's tortured lungs forced her at last to open her mouth, he rammed his prick far back in her throat with a single brutal thrust.
"I'm only going to say this once," Bill told her.
"If you want air, you'll do a damn good job of sucking my cock. No cooperation, no air. Do you understand?"
She bobbed her head up and down as much as the fingers twined in her hair would permit. "Are you going to cooperate?" he asked.
Again, she nodded her head. She was desperate for air. Already the first thin veils of unconsciousness were dropping over her brain.
When Bill free her nose, she began nibbling on his rigid cock. Desperately, still striving to pull air into her aching lungs, she sucked and licked at his thrusting penis. Her mouth caressed the pulsing organ. Her tongue probed the tiny slit at the tip of his glans, tasting the pearling drops of semen that signaled his growing excitement. Her cheeks hollowed, their moist surfaces sucking inward to rub pleasurably against the length of his pistoning shaft.
Bill was grunting with delight at Kathy's oral stimulation of his penis. He gripped her head between his hands, and increased the tempo of his long strokes into the humid cave of her mouth. He could see his thick cock sawing in and out of her ovaled lips, the lewd sight making his testicles swell with anticipation of pumping their hot cargo down Kathy's throat and into her softly rounded belly.
The captive girl worked her mouth feverishly, knowing that there was nothing else she could do. She found herself actually wishing that he would come. After all, that was the only thing that would end this degrading performance, and it would happen eventually in any case. It might as well be soon.
As if in answer to the thought, his plunging cock expanded suddenly inside her mouth. Eager now to force his climax, Kathy pulled her head back from Bill's pelvis until her lips contacted the head of his penis. Then she sucked on it-hard! Her tongue lashed dementedly back and forth across the sensitive tip of his prick.
With a feeling of perverse triumph, she felt his sticky white semen spurt against the back of her throat. Now she sucked him even harder than before, drawing hot needles of blood to the surface of his tingling glans, draining his testicles of their last drop of semen. She didn't care that the thick fluid was running down her throat, didn't care that she should be sick at the thought of his cum pooling inside her stomach. All she cared about was sucking him dry and ending this horrible oral rape.
Satiated, Bill pulled his wet penis from her mouth and sighed with weary satisfaction. "Baby," he said, "if that's the first knob job you've ever given, you've got a hell of a natural talent. Jesus, were you ever good! In fact, you've been such great company all night long that I wish we could keep you here forever-or at least until I'm ready for one more go."
"You filthy little punk!" Kathy screamed at him. "I wish I had syphilis! I wish your goddamn cock was going to rot off because of what you've done to me!"
"Honey, the way you fuck, you could probably wear it off in another couple of hours."
The other members of the gang roared their approval of Bill's remark, and Kathy closed her mouth in humiliated silence. "Don't let go of her arms," Bill told Nick and Crazy. "Terry, you get my lassoo. It's in the pocket of my jeans."
When Terry returned with the garrote, Bill held it up for Kathy's inspection, smiling cruelly at her. "You're going to get your air cut off again," he said, "and this time it'll be a permanent condition."
So this was it! Kathy wasn't as afraid as she had thought she would be. Instead, she felt only a sense of waste. If only she had realized her feelings for Dave before it was too late. At least there might have been some chance of his returning her love. They might have found happiness together.
Bill was behind her now. The strangling cord dropped over her head, pulled tight-and the sound of breaking glass filled the air!
Even as Kathy's eyes took in the welcome sight of the riot gun someone had rammed through the street-level window, the door crashed open. Dave Halloran entered, his face a mask of rage, and two uniformed officers followed him.
Nick and Crazy, thinking now only of their own safety, released her arms. She was to be forever grateful that she thought then as rapidly as she did and that Bill's loop hadn't been around her neck long enough to have drained her strength. With a savage scream of pure animal hatred, Kathy drove her elbow backward and up, catching Bill Winslow squarely in his freshly emptied testicles. The boy yelped and doubled over in agony, his hands clutching at his crotch. Kathy's fingers knotted quickly in his hair, and she neatly pitched him over her shoulder.
The boy landed solidly on his back, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of him. Before he could recover, the policewoman's fist crashed against his exposed throat, knocking him cold. Without the slightest pause, Kathy sprang to her feet and looked quickly around the room. Her eyes settled on Terry's pale face, and there was blood in them.
"Hey, wait!" the thin brunette yelled, her voice squeaky with panic.
But Kathy didn't wait. It was no contest this time, not with the policewoman's hands free. She faked a grab for the Lesbian's hair and, when Terry raised her arms in a defensive gesture, Kathy rocketed a punch into the girl's pubic mound. Terry's sudden scream choked off into a grunt as she doubled up in pain.
Kathy grabbed a handful of dark hair, jerked the girl upright, and viciously backhanded her across the mouth. Once, twice, three times, Kathy's open hand cracked loudly against Terry's face. Then she grabbed the Lesbian's arm in both hands and slammed her into the wall. As the dazed girl rebounded from the wall, Kathy smashed her fist into the girl's temple. Terry sagged to the floor and lay still.
"Kathy! Listen, Kathy!"
The young blonde was suddenly aware of Dave Halloran's voice. When she turned to him, she saw that he was holding his jacket out to her. My God! She was still stark-naked, and here she was running around in front of all these cops! She snatched the jacket from Dave.
"Now that's what I call police brutality," Dave said, nodding his head toward the unconscious Terry.
There was approval in his voice, but Kathy knew he was speaking mainly to hide his embarrassment at having seen her naked again, just like that night at the park. Besides, what do you say to an old friend who has just spent the evening being gang-raped?
"I guess I should ask if you're all right," Dave said, "but you looked pretty healthy while you were demolishing those two kids'"
"I'm glad I got my hands on them," she said. "I think it's going to keep what happened tonight from eating at me for the rest of my life. To think that after all the worry we wasted on Buford, it was a gang of kids that almost killed me!"
"Buford was still behind it," Dave said, "but he'll never trouble anyone again. The bastard's dead. I'll tell you about it later."
"But...."
"Later! Let's talk about something else, Kathy."
"Dave," Kathy said, "I don't understand. You sound almost as if you're angry with me."
"I'm not angry. I've just been so worried about you. You know I love you like my own ... like my own...."
"Dave Halloran! If you say 'daughter', I'll never speak to you again." Kathy's voice was sharp, but her eyes smiled at him.
They were the stereotype of eager honeymooners. Their still-packed suitcases sat by the door of their room, and their discarded clothing marked a trail to the bed.
Dave kissed her tenderly on the throat, and Kathy responded by pressing her naked body closer to his. She sighed pleasurably as his gentle fingers fluttered across her breasts, drifted lovingly over her stomach, and riffled through the golden curls of her pubic mound.
Dave caressed her tiny clitoris almost reverently, and she felt the little bud stiffen into excited readiness. The stirring in her loins was even more intense than that she had experienced under the influence of Buford's sex drug. She moaned softly and worked her hips against Dave's hand, forcing his fingers to slide up and down the length of her rapidly lubricating slit.
Without consciously willing it, Kathy found her hand seeking Dave's pulsing manhood. Before he could stop her, she slid down the length of his body, stopping when her lips were poised above the engorged head of his cock. Hungrily, she sucked the rigid organ into her mouth, nursing at it. Her blonde hair was fanned out over his hairy thighs, and her firm buttocks swayed proudly in the air. She bobbed her head up and down, her squirming lips and lashing tongue teasing at his penis.
Without warning, she pulled away from him, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Dave," she said, "maybe I got too much of an education from Buford and those kids ... or ... maybe ... they turned me into some kind of nymphomaniac."
He smiled reassuringly at her. "You poor baby. Here I am, a broken-down cop with a beautiful young bride, and you're afraid that I'm going to be disgusted because you're a terrific sex partner. That's what I call having a real insecure personality!"
They both laughed together.
"C'mon," he said, "demonstrate some of that nymphomania you were bragging about."
