She started to come to an hour after they got her to the island. She just murmured a little at first, and shifted on the couch, and the guys looked at Keller, as though they expected him to tell them what to do. Keller smiled at them and took a sip of his drink.
Milt got up from the love seat and went to the bar. He poured himself a beer and came back and looked at the glass, waiting for the foam to go down. He had poured badly.
"Why don't we wake her up now?" Al asked. He sounded nervous, and a little impatient. Keller couldn't blame him. They had been waiting and planning for weeks.
"It wouldn't do much good, Al," Keller said. "She has to come out of it in her own time. Otherwise, she'd be too woozy to be much fun."
"I think we ought to take her clothes off," Milt said, and almost giggled. He came close to giggling a lot, and of course it was annoying. He sat there with his belly hanging over his belt and looked at the girl with a mixture of hunger and apprehension. They all looked at her, and that wasn't hard to understand, Keller thought. After all, she was far and away the prettiest thing in the room. She lay there, unconscious, with her raven's wing hair spilled across the couch. Her dress was a mini, of course, and it was hiked up a little, too, so that they could see just a hint of pink panties. She had been voted one of the ten prettiest girls in college two years running.
Which, of course, was why they had chosen her.
"If the majority want to," Keller said, "of course we'll strip her now. But I don't see how that would be much fun, when she's out like a light, and doesn't even know what's happening to her."
"Hell, let's wait until she comes out of it," Roger said from his seat in the far corner. He was drinking a beer too. "How much longer will it take, Doc?"
"Not more than another fifteen minutes," Keller said, glancing at his watch.
"Well, shit, I can't see how that's such a long wait, after all these weeks. Personally, I feel great. I didn't think it would go off this easily."
"It had to go off easily," Keller said. "It was planned to go off easily. And each of us is an expert in his field."
"Right," Al said, his teeth showing in a wide white grin, a startling contrast to his coal-black face. "And there's the proof. Arlene Landis, right there on our couch."
She made another sound, and moved a little, as though the mention of her name had penetrated her consciousness. Keller went to the bar and filled his glass again. "When she comes to," he said to Al, "I think you should give her a little something to show her her place."
"My pleasure," Al said with another grin.
"Nothing too drastic, you understand. Just enough to shock her into an awareness of what her new status is."
At that moment, Arlene opened her eyes. Keller was halfway back to his chair, and he stopped and looked at her with a smile. She sat up and put a hand to her head, and then tugged her skirt down as far as it would go. She looked around the room, obviously in a daze, and seemed to wonder where she was and how she had gotten there.
Al put his drink on the floor next to his chair very carefully, and then rose and walked across the intervening space to the girl. Arlene sat looking up at him, as though she expected him to explain what was going on. There was nothing threatening in Al's manner. He looked friendly. Keller knew him well enough, of course, to realize that the expression wasn't friendliness at all. It was just his eagerness showing through.
He stopped in front of Arlene and brought his hand around in a swift, chopping arc that took her by surprise. He had to bend over from his seven-foot, two-inch height, to reach her cheek. His palm cracked Arlene's face with a pistol-shot sound. She gasped, too surprised to scream, and then Al's hand came around again, cracking her on the opposite cheek with his knuckles. Arlene's head snapped around hard, in a cascade of black hair, and she screamed. She fell back against the couch. Al reached for her.
"I think that's enough, Al," Keller said. "I think the young lady is sufficiently awake now to talk with us."
She looked over at Keller as though she hadn't noticed him before. "Dr. Keller," she said. "What-Dr. Keller, what am I doing here? What is this?"
Al was walking back to his chair. "You'll find out, sweets," he said over his shoulder, and laughed. It was a joyous laugh, the laugh of a man who had just enjoyed himself immensely, and who expected to enjoy himself more very soon.
"Arlene," Keller said, "I'll be glad to answer all your questions-well, most of your questions-but right now I want you to stand up."
She didn't move. "Why?"
"Because I just told you to, of course."
She looked at him disbelievingly for a moment, and then she set her jaw. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Doctor, but I have no intention of ... "
"Al," Keller said, "I guess the little lady does need some more convincing, after all."
Al put his drink down again, stood and headed for the couch. Arlene shrank back. "All right," she said, grudgingly. "All right, I'll stand up!"
"Go ahead, Al," Keller said. Al grabbed her by her hank of hair and pulled her off the couch. She hit the floor on her knees and cried out at the bump. Then Al pulled her to her feet and slapped her again. He slapped her three or four times, while she tried vainly to ward off the blows with her hands, but she wasn't nearly quick enough for him. She screamed and tried to pull away.
"All right, Al," Keller said. Al stopped. He wasn't even a little out of breath. Arlene's face was red, but it didn't look skinned. Her makeup was smeared from her tears. When Al left her, she swayed a little, but she stayed on her feet.
"Now, that's better," Keller said. "Don't you think it would have been better to get up when I told you to? You could have saved yourself all that discomfort. I hope you're going to learn from little mistakes like that. Because the penalties for disobedience will increase rapidly."
"You didn't have to have him hit me," Arlene said. "I told you I'd stand up."
"You'll find, during your stay here, Arlene, that I don't make idle threats. When I say that I'm going to punish you, you will be punished. And there won't be any way of avoiding it. So the best thing is to keep from making it necessary to threaten in the first place."
She looked around at all of them, and a light dawned in her eyes. She was finally beginning to think well enough to have some idea of what she was here for. She fastened her gaze on Keller again. "What kind of crazy place is this?"
"It's a club, honey," Keller said. "We are the members, and you are one of the facilities."
"This is insane. You can't get away with this."
"We already have gotten away with it. Here you are, and there isn't anyone outside this room who knows where you are."
"People will look for me."
"Of course they will. For a while. But how many people really care about you that much? Your parents, maybe. The police will do their duty and look for you for a while. But they have so much to attend to, Arlene. Do you really think they're going to go all-out for one lost girl? Girls disappear every day. They can't go hunting for each of them. No, Arlene. I think you'll be better off if you'll just forget about help from outside. This place is pretty well removed, and a long way from where we got you."
"Steve will look for me. He'll never give up."
"Steve? I suppose you're referring to Steve Ralston? The young man who was with you tonight?"
She looked at him with horror, and he knew that she was beginning to remember the events of the evening. The drug was wearing off. "What did you do to Steve?" she demanded.
"He was in the way, Arlene. He was with you, and we just couldn't afford to have any witnesses walking around. A pity you won't be able to attend the funeral."
"Oh, my God!" She started to cry, and her knees became wobbly. She stepped back and sank to the couch again. Al walked over and pulled her back to her feet. She tried to kick him, and screamed something in a rage. Al placed a foot behind hers and pushed her back and off balance. He held her like that with one hand and slapped her with the other until she shut up. He pulled her upright and walked back to his chair again. Arlene stood there, her gaze lowered, crying.
"Now you know we mean business, Arlene," Keller said. "You know this isn't some crank stunt. We've had our eyes on you for weeks, planning this. And now that you're here, you're going to serve the purpose we have in mind."
"I'll die first," she said.
"Wrong," Roger called from his chair. "You'll die afterward, if you give us any shit."
"Oh, God, this is impossible," she said. "This can't be happening!"
"It's happening, all right," Keller said. "You're our property now, and you will be for a little while."
She looked up hopefully at that. "How long a while?"
"That's up to you. At any rate, it will be the rest of your life. I hope you like our little club, dear, because it's all you're going to see from now on.
"You're going to kill me?"
"When you're no longer any use to us."
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" She looked like some little animal trapped and in a panic.
"I think we've done enough talking for now," Keller said. "You know the situation, Arlene. You just follow all orders, and you'll get along fine, for the time being, at least."
"Sure," Milt said. He took a big swig of his beer. "Why don't we start giving some orders?" He sounded like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"I think that would be an excellent idea," Keller said. "And for the first order, Arlene, why don't you take off your clothes, so we can inspect our new property?"
She stood looking at him nervously, as though she were trying to figure out what tack to take. She still had illusions of getting away clean. Keller smiled.
"I won't do anything of the sort," she said. "I guess you can get my clothes off if you want to, but you'll have to do it. I'm not going to cooperate in this filth." She crossed her arms in front of her. She was scared to death-that was obvious- but she was making a big show of courage.
"We have no intention of taking your clothes off you, Arlene," Keller said. "We'll just concentrate on convincing you of the good sense of doing it yourself."
"You don't scare me."
"Bullshit," Roger said, and Milt giggled and took another drink of beer.
"Are you sure we don't scare you?" Keller asked. "Not even a little bit?"
She looked furtively at Al, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"I think if you don't change your mind right now, I'm going to ask Al here to work you over again, honey. I don't give orders twice, you know. Not without inflicting punishment in between. So don't you think you'd better reconsider your decision?"
She looked at Al, and then at Keller, and then at the others, as though she expected them to disappear. "All right," she said in a voice that was unsteady. "All right, I'll do what you want." She hardly got the last words out, she was so scared. She stepped out of her shoes, and stood looking at Keller pleadingly.
"That's a start," Keller said, "but hardly what I had in mind."
She was crying again. With an unsteady movement, she reached up behind her and opened the clasp at the top of her dress. She was shaking so badly she looked as though she might fall down any minute. She had to struggle for a while to get the dress unzipped, and then she looked at them for a moment, as though waiting for someone to say something. She took the hem of the dress in her hands and lifted it. Her legs were almost completely in view already, but as she showed her upper thighs, and then her panties, there was a sound of shuffling through the room as the men shifted in the seats. The skirt came the rest of the way up and stuck, caught in her hair. Arlene tugged at it savagely, as though in a panic at being blinded and snared in the garment. It tore a little and came free. She dropped it to the floor.
She was wearing panty hose and a white bra. She looked around at them, so embarrassed and so horrified that Keller felt himself growing excited at her helplessness.
"We're waiting," he said.
"All right!" She reached behind her and unfastened her bra. It took a couple of tries with each of the clasps, and Keller had the idea that she wasn't just nervous. She was stalling. Well, he'd let her get away with it this time. She was providing them all with a good time. Why not let it last a while.
The bra started to fall away from her bulging breasts, and she caught it and held it there. It was a reflex gesture, of course, and the instant she realized what she had done, she let it drop to the floor.
Her breasts were even nicer than Keller had imagined. Big for her size, they were firm with youth, and excitingly pink-tipped. She started to cover them with her hands, then looked around at them and lowered her hands almost defiantly.
"That's a good girl," Keller said. "You just let us look all we want to."
"You're all going to pay for this," Arlene said. Her voice was a little stronger now, a little steadier.
"No doubt. So we may as well enjoy ourselves to the fullest while we're still able to do so. You're still wearing something, Arlene."
She straightened and closed her eyes.
"Come on, come on, goddamn it," Roger said with angry impatience. Arlene looked at him and then down at the floor. She hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panty hose and shoved them down quickly. She pushed them all the way to her ankles, squatting to do so, and then, when they were all the way off, she stood reluctantly.
She was a fine-looking girl. There was no doubt of that. They couldn't have done better in choosing their first victim. She stood before them, flushing a deep red, her feet together and her hands at her sides. She looked as though she would give an arm and a leg to be somewhere else at that moment.
Keller put down his drink and walked over to where the girl was standing. She shrank back, apparently expecting him to make a pass, but he laughed and bent over to pick up the pile of clothes she had dropped to the floor. He took them over to the fireplace. A big, cheerful fire was blazing there, crackling and throwing off sputtering bits of wood that bounced off the screen. Keller leaned over and tossed the clothes onto the fire. They almost smothered the blaze at first, but then the clothes began to smoke. Arlene let out a gasp and took an involuntary step toward the fireplace.
"You won't be needing those clothes anymore," Keller said. "Any clothes we decide to have you wear will be furnished by the club. Free of charge." There was a round of laughter, and she looked like she was about to cry again, but she held it back. Keller walked up to her. She backed away a couple of steps, and then forced herself to stand still. Keller could see her trembling, and when he stepped close to her, he could feel the heat of her body. He could almost smell fear emanating from her.
"Now, Arlene," he said, "it's time to get started on your chief duty here." Keller reached forward and took one of her breasts in his hand. He held it lightly, and it was just shock that made her stand still for a full second before she pulled back. Keller laughed and grabbed her shoulder. He twirled her around, planted his foot on her ass and shoved her hard toward Roger, standing in the corner. Roger caught her and pulled her up against him good and tight. He kissed her, covering her mouth with his. Arlene screamed a muffled scream and tried to twist loose, but he had a good hold on her. He held her clamped in his arms and, as she fought him, he slid one arm down her back and cupped each cheek of her ass in turn.
Arlene let out another garbled scream and tried to break free all the harder. She kicked at him but, with her feet bare, she hurt herself more than she did him. Roger laughed and pushed her away. She tried to run but, as she went past Milt's chair, he stuck out a foot, tripping her. She hit the floor with a hell of a thud, and they all laughed again. Then Al was on top of her, pinning her to the carpet.
"You son of a bitch!" Arlene screamed. She tried to bite his hand, but she couldn't reach it. Al laughed and turned her over on her back. He drove his knee between her thighs, prying them apart. She was crying, screaming and fighting all at the same time now, but her movements were losing both force and precision. She was tiring.
Keller walked over and looked down at her. Her expression was a strange combination of hatred and pleading.
"Let her up, Al," Keller said. Al climbed off Arlene and pulled her to her feet by a handful of hair. Keller looked at her and shook his head mockingly. "Give up?" he asked.
"You bastards! You wouldn't try this kind of thing if ... "
"If your father, brother or sweetheart were here. That's quite true. Which is precisely why we've made sure to get you some place where those fellows won't be around. And if you should manage to get to that door, as you tried just now, you'd find it locked, and we have the keys on us. It's a special lock which can't be opened from inside without a key. And even if you should get outside, you wouldn't like it. Provided you were able to get past the dogs, which I rather doubt, you'd then be faced by a fifteen-mile swim through very heavy currents, and very cold water. An Olympic swimmer might be able to make it. Are you that good?"
She looked at him dazedly, and he could tell that he had taken the last of the fight out of her. "Where are we?" she asked.
"On an island, honey. Where the island is doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere, anyway. You're going to live out your life here, and when you die, you'll be buried on this island. And no one but us will ever see you again. Now, I hope you accept that situation, because it would be a terrible waste to have to get rid of you now."
She hung her head and nodded mutely. Tears were running down her smeared face. They had agreed that Keller would get first call on the first girl, since he had engineered things. He took her to his bedroom on the second floor. She looked at the room dumbly, and he saw her eyeing the bars on the windows.
"Just an additional precaution," Keller said. "Something to keep you from getting ideas."
"I can see lights," she said, staring out the window.
"Light carries a long way out here. That town is over twenty miles from here. If you want to, I'll open the window-the glass, I mean-and let you have a few free screams. You can scream yourself hoarse, if it'll make you feel any better."
"All right," she said. "I get the point."
"Fine. There's the bed. Go turn it down." While she was attending to that, Keller stripped. He could see her avoiding looking at him. When the bed was turned down, he told her to go into the bathroom and clean herself up.
She came back fifteen minutes later. She had washed the smeared makeup off her face, and had run a comb through her hair. She was really a beautiful girl, he thought, and felt something shift inside him. He was lying in bed. She didn't even wait to be ordered before joining him. The fight had really been knocked out of her, he thought, at least for the time being. At any rate, she was being cooperative, and he wasn't going to complain about that.
He took her in his arms and held her close, delighting in the feel of her body pressed against his. She was firm and young and lovely. He could feel her breasts, mashed against his chest, and he stroked her back, her ass and her hair, like a kid on Christmas, who doesn't know what to play with first.
His cock was hard as a brick now. He knew she could feel it against her thighs. She was stiff at first, but he could feel her relaxing. No doubt she was forcing herself to soften toward him. She was a smart girl, he decided. She would bear some watching.
He kissed her, and she returned the kiss, running her tongue into his mouth and stroking his. Her hands were on him, as his were on her, and their touch brought him all the more to life. He was feverish with desire now. She was the kind of girl who could turn a man on from a half mile away. And they weren't any half mile apart.
Keller pushed her onto her back, and she yielded without any resistance. She lay there waiting while he mounted her. Her legs were spread wide, and he saw her opened pussy just before his body covered hers. He held his cock in his hands and guided it to her slit. She was trembling again, and he guessed that she had been going on nerve, forcing herself to put up with his advances because she had known that resistance was worse than futile. She was forcing herself to put up with him. He held himself over her for a moment, enjoying her helplessness. This was what he had planned for, and waited for, ever since the idea had occurred to him, two years before. This was the moment.
Keller came down on her, driving his prick into her with a single push. He drove it clear to the root, pushing it in and holding it there for a moment, enjoying the contact and the connection for a while before he started to fuck her.
The pleasure was immediate and intense, and he knew he wouldn't be able to last very long. He was too excited, he thought, too high on the emotional stimulation of having her here and helpless. It wouldn't last long this time.
But what the hell? There would be other times.
He accelerated, driving his prick into her with more force, and greater rapidity, and he heard himself grunt as the pleasure approached its peak. It was more fierce than he had expected, and when the orgasm came, it nearly drove the top of his head off.
Afterward, she lay next to him, very still. He thought he heard her crying once or twice, but it could have been his imagination. He wasn't sure. She had her back to him, lying on her side. She seemed to be waiting to see what he would do next.
She hadn't been a virgin. Not that he had expected her to be. She and Ralston hadn't been playing double solitaire up there in the hills every weekend. He felt a thrill of pride at the way he had thought everything out. Ralston could have been a problem, if things had been less carefully planned. But the nice part about doing a thing like this was the fact that the object of the plan doesn't know it's going to happen until things start to pop, and then it's too late for her to make any plans. That gave the perpetrator of the incident a huge edge. In this case the edge had been more than sufficient.
There was a knock at the door, and he said, "Come in." It was Al. He was in his shorts, tall and muscled, his black body impressive-looking. Arlene sat up in bed and looked at him with fresh horror, as though she had guessed the meaning of his appearance.
"You through with her now, Prof?" Al asked.
Keller hesitated. He would have liked to have had her to himself for a little longer, but of course he couldn't expect to hog the wealth to himself. The boys had worked hard, right along with him, and he couldn't have gotten her without their help.
"Yes," he said. "I'm through with her. You can have her."
Al came forward. Arlene sat there looking at him, the sheet hugged to the front of her body, until he was within a dozen steps of the bed. Then she got out and stood there, trembling. She was really beautiful, Keller thought. And she wouldn't be the last.
"Get the light on the way out," he said, and lay down to try to get some sleep. He was still keyed up, despite the drinking and the fucking. As he waited for sleep to come, he thought back to the day he had made contact with the three others about his idea ...
Chapter 2
He had called them together in the evening, in his home, rather than his office on campus. He told them it had to do with a special project, which was true enough. Milt was the first to show up. He stood there, looking shy and a little bewildered, as always, and Keller had to remind himself that the boy had an I.Q. in the low one-fifties, and an ability to work with electronics that amounted to genius.
"Drink?" Keller asked and, when Milt asked for a beer, he got it for him.
Within fifteen minutes, the other two had arrived, too. They all went into the study, where they sat around his desk. Keller cleared his throat, a little nervous now that things were at hand, though he was determined not to show it.
"Gentlemen," he said, looking at each of them in turn, "I've called you here to discuss a special project, as I said. However, I wish to tell you right at the beginning that it isn't an academic project." He saw some reaction to that statement, but none of them said anything. He liked that. It showed that they weren't easily goaded into speech. It also told him that they were curious.
"You all remember the tests I've been administering to my Psychology I class this semester," he said. There was a chorus of nods. "Well, those tests yielded similar results in several of my students, including all of you." He looked at each of them again, a pause designed to keep them curious. "Gentlemen, suffice it to say that each of you harbors a resentment against the opposite sex." He waited for the denials. They looked uncomfortable, but none of them said anything.
"I rather like that," Keller said. "It's convenient. Convenient for this project I have in mind."
"Well, maybe you'll tell us just what the project is," Roger said.
"Of course. But let me tell you in my own way, please. As you may know, my wife died two years ago. She left me a considerable sum of money, and some land, including an island a couple of miles away from here."
"An island?" Al asked.
"It's in a lake. A large lake. I've done some building there, in my spare time, including summers. I've outfitted the place something like a miniature Devil's Island. It's as close to being escape proof as it can be."
They looked as though they'd all like to leave now, but they didn't make any effort to do so. Keller smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on putting any of you there. Quite the contrary, I thought you gentlemen would like to join me in enjoying the possibilities of such an island."
"Well, just what possibilities do you have in mind, Professor?" Milt asked. He was sweating. They all were, but Milt more than the others. Possibly because of his overweight condition, Keller thought.
"I'm coming to that. As I said, each of you gentlemen tests out psychologically as having a strong resentment against women. I'm not interested in discovering what the causes are of those resentments. I'm not interested in ridding you of them, either. Quite the opposite. I hope to help you give vent to them. And that island will be the means by which we will be able to do so."
"We?" Roger asked.
"Of course. I'm none too fond of women myself, and I do think it would be fun to indulge myself. I've spent my entire life in the gathering of degrees. Now I'd like to use my knowledge, and my intelligence, to have some fun."
"Let me get this straight," Al said. "Are you suggesting that we abduct women and take them to your island? That's the only thing I can get out of what you've said so far."
"That's exactly right." He looked them over, relishing the surprise in their expressions. When none of them got up to leave, he knew he had them, that he had judged them correctly. "Naturally, if any one of you decides not to go along with it, that will mean that the plan will have to be scrapped. I wouldn't want anyone wandering around with knowledge of what has been said here tonight."
"Would you mind telling me one thing?" Roger asked.
"If I can."
"Why us? You said that there were others who tested out the same as we did."
"More or less."
"Then why did you choose the three of us specifically?"
"Each of you for separate reasons." Keller looked them over, and stopped his gaze on Milt. "Take yourself, for instance, Milt," he said. The boy squirmed uncomfortably. "Milton White," Keller said. "Age twenty. An I.Q. in the stratosphere. Five feet, six inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds. Have you ever had a girl, Milt?"
"Huh? Well, of course ... "
"Of course. But they don't like you, do they? You're a brilliant young man, one of the brightest in the college. You will make big money some day. But girls don't like you because of your shape. I don't really blame you for resenting them, Milt. They're such shallow creatures. Aren't they? But to answer the question, I chose you because of your intelligence, and your knowledge of electronics. It could come in handy in getting and keeping our victims.
"Alvin Johnson," Keller said, turning to Al. "Negro. Seven feet, two inches tall. Star athlete, and also an expert marksman. Obviously, your strength, your ability, your speed, will be as handy in running down reluctant females as they are on the basketball court. And your marksmanship will come in handy, too."
"Roger Goodman. Twenty-one years old, a major in mechanical engineering. You're an expert with all kinds of machinery, and one of the best drivers in the state, as you have demonstrated on the race track. Obviously, your skills will come in handy, too."
"Perhaps you would be interested in learning something about my intended contribution to the group. In addition to the money, and the place where we'll enjoy our spoils, I am a licensed physician, and a psychiatrist. I can get my hands on drugs and chemicals, legally, without raising any eyebrows. Such things could be of use."
Keller looked them all over. "Now, gentlemen, I'm going to ask each of you in turn if he is interested in my plan. As I said before, one demurral will put an end to the entire idea ... "
Of course they had all agreed. And then they had taken a vote to see who would be their first victim, and Arlene had won. Or lost. Keller turned over in bed and wished that he had her there right now. Things had been a brilliant success, but of course there was one point that had been proved above all else: they needed more women. And tomorrow they would start planning for another snatch. He laughed aloud at the unintended pun. Another snatch was exactly what they were going after. And then another, and another. They would fill those cells down in the basement with snatch. They'd have snatch running out their ears. It made him excited all over again just thinking about it. Arlene was only the first of many.
It was going to be a rapist's paradise.
Chapter 3
Arlene woke up screaming, and wondering what had frightened her. She looked around and slowly took in her surroundings. It took a while to recognize the cell in which they had locked her. And then she remembered that she had been dreaming. A nightmare. It was strange, she thought, to have a nightmare and wake up to a reality that was even worse.
She moved her legs, and the chains rattled. There was no sense in trying to move around. She couldn't remember what the rest of the basement looked like. She had been in no condition to notice things when she had been dragged down here, after the four of them had taken their turns. She had been in a state of shock, she realized now. Hysterical.
How had it happened? How had she come to be here? She knew Professor Keller, of course. She had even had a psych class from him once. And the tall black one was Al Johnson, the school's track and basketball star. She couldn't remember having seen the others anywhere before.
How could an evening start out to be so happy and end up like this? She couldn't understand it at all. She had read about such things before, of course, but they always happened to other girls, never to her. Men had always treated her with kindness. And anyway, she couldn't ever remember hearing about anything quite like this. Rape, yes, and murder, even kidnapping, but never anything this elaborate. It was fantastic, like something out of de Sade.
* * *
Steve had picked her up at the dorm at the usual time this evening. He had led her to his Chevy, and they had gone to a movie; then, afterward, he took her to their little spot.
He pulled the car into the hidden place and locked the brake. Arlene turned toward him, ready for what was to come. He took her in his strong arms and held her close. His mouth closed over hers, and he kissed her long and hard, his tongue moving through her mouth with the complete familiarity that he had learned in the week they had been going steady. His hand slid over the front of her dress, cupping one of her breasts, then slipping down to her lap. She felt her own breath quicken as his hand slipped down the length of her skirt and wandered over the smooth flesh of her thighs. She could feel the tingling through her body, and she thought that this was the night-he was going to go all the way tonight. She had been coy long enough, and she really did love him.
Arlene slid down in the seat, and he moved over her, his hands working on her with greater boldness. One strong hand moved up under her skirt, and she felt it moving over the hard, abrasive texture of her panty hose. She felt a brief annoyance with herself for wearing the pantyhose tonight, but the feeling passed. She'd get out of them for him, when he'd worked himself, and her, up a little more. She'd take them off while he watched, and maybe she'd even ask him to help her. It would be wonderful. Their first time, right here in his car, under a full moon, in their private place.
His weight pressed her down into the cushions of the car, and it was an exciting feeling. She moaned a little as he moved his mouth over her face, feeling the fire stoke higher in her, and then she felt his fingers hooking in the top of her panty hose, starting to pull them down. She stiffened a moment, and then remembered that she had decided to let him go all the way this time. She relaxed as the fingers took a better grip.
Then something weird happened, and she couldn't tell just what was going on. Something seemed to hit Steve. His body quivered briefly, and he let out a dull sound and fell across her. Arlene tried to push his dead weight off her, but he was so heavy, and she started to scream.
Then there was the sound of breaking glass, and she looked up and saw something push through the window. Then a gloved hand reached in and pulled up the lock button, and the door was yanked open. She had been leaning against it a little, and she fell back hard when it opened. The weight of the car door was pulled away from her, and she tried to get up, but the top half of her body was hanging out of the car, and it was awkward. All she managed to do was shake herself loose and slide out of the car.
"Grab her," a muffled voice said from above. The voice was very calm-sounding, and that frightened her more than if it had been a savage scream. She tried to gain her footing but hands grabbed her arms and legs, and she was lifted clear off the ground. She gathered air into her lungs to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth, too. There must be several of them, she thought. She could see forms all around her, and she could see their heads, but their faces were covered by something, by stockings she guessed. "Hold her arm out here," the same calm voice said. Someone tugged her right arm out straight. Arlene struggled to free it, but someone slapped her across the face, hard. It was more than a slap, really, but not quite a closed-fist blow. She felt knuckles. The blow dazed her, and she lay still just long enough to feel a sharp sting in her arm. The pricking stunned her into inaction, the automatic reaction of someone receiving a shot from a hypodermic. She lay still that additional second, and felt a little burning sensation as the plunger was pressed, filling her arm with something. She felt the drowsiness almost immediately, and she barely had time to realize that they were carrying her away from the car, and Steve, before the blackness closed in on her ...
* * *
She had awakened in that horrible room upstairs, with all of them sitting around staring at her.
Well, it was obvious what they wanted from her. And they were getting it, too. She had no illusions about being a heroine. She would give them their fun, if it meant living longer. But she wondered how long it would keep her alive. Keller had told her that she would be buried here. At least he was being honest with her. She wondered if he were telling her all that because he enjoyed it. She supposed so. He seemed to be sadistic. It wasn't just that he wanted a woman. He could have all the women he wanted. Everyone knew he had inherited some money from his wife. He didn't have to go through all this unless he just wanted a woman he could do anything to.
The thought made her shiver. Before that had occurred to her, dying had seemed the worst that could happen. Now she wondered. They had all seemed to have fun hurting her, and tormenting her. Tears ran down her face again as the new fear crept through her veins.
There was the snapping sound of a switch, and the place was suddenly flooded with light. Arlene sat up, squinting. She could see the rest of the basement now, through the bars of her cell.
It was a big basement, about sixty feet square, she judged. The walls were lined with other cells like the one in which they had put her. But what was most horrifying was the stuff that was in the rest of the space.
The place was filled with all kinds of strange-looking devices. There were chains hanging from the ceiling, and in the middle of the room was what looked like a whipping post. And there were other things, too, things she couldn't recognize, but they all looked sinister.
The fat one, the one called Milt, was walking across the basement toward her cell. He was wearing a bathrobe and zoris, and carrying a big ring with keys on it. She recognized the ring, and the keys. They had used one of those keys to lock her into the cell, and another to put the chains on her ankles. He looked nervous, but exuberant, as though he were about to do something he had been wanting to do for a long time. She thought back, murkily, to the evening. Was it still that same evening? Milt was the one who had been clumsy. She had had the feeling that he had never had a woman before.
"Good morning," he said heartily. Arlene looked at him silently, waiting to see what he was going to do. As she had expected, he unlocked the door to her cell and opened it. He came inside and stood looking down at her. "All ready for a nice, bright, new day?" he asked, and giggled. He giggled like a girl, and she found it disgusting. She kept her face impassive.
"I'm going to open the irons and let you up," he said. "But if you try to get away, we're going to have to give you a hard time. You don't want a hard time, do you?"
She didn't answer.
"Do you?" he asked again, and rapped her on the side of the head with the big key ring. Arlene winced. She had a little headache already, and the rap had been more painful, probably, than he had realized. She wondered whether it would have made any difference to him if he had known.
"No," she said. "I don't want a hard time."
He hit her again with the key ring, and she yelped a little.
"No, sir," he corrected her. Arlene looked up at him in amazement, wondering whether he really meant it. She decided not to take any chances.
"No, sir."
"That's better." He went down to the foot of the iron cot on which she was lying, and opened one of the irons. He ran his hand up the inside of her calf, and grinned at her. Arlene sat very still. She didn't want to antagonize him. She meant to stay alive, and whole, until she could find a way out of this place. Then it would be her turn. Her turn to see them all tried for kidnapping, rape, and murder. But for now she didn't want to get anyone mad. He opened the other iron, and she was free. "That's a funny thought," she said to herself. "Comical." She was free to run away from him, if she were stupid enough to try. She might make it to the door over there, and even up to the ground floor. Then what? If she made it outside, she'd still be on the island. There was a fifteen-mile swim to land, they had said. And there were dogs to keep her from getting off the island, anyway. Sure. She was free.
She turned and placed her feet on the floor. She was pretty sure what Milt wanted from her. It was what they had brought her here for. But she would wait until he told her.
"I guess you know what I'm here for," he said with a wink. It was almost as though he had read her mind.
"I guess so," Arlene said, and remembered, barely in time, to add, "sir."
"Come with me, then, baby." He walked out of the cell, and Arlene followed him. She was so stiff from the night before that she could hardly walk, but the elasticity returned to her muscles and joints after a few steps. She didn't feel exactly great, but it wasn't too bad.
Milt led her across the basement. She gave the strange contraptions a wide berth, and she knew he noticed that, because he grinned at her knowingly. He took her to the door, and she noticed for the first time that there were several doors, all around the place. The one he had used when he had entered was painted green, the others were gray. She already had an idea where the gray ones led. And she was right.
It was a good-sized bedroom. She looked at the big bed and felt a queasiness in her stomach. She was still naked, of course, and she could feel the soreness between her legs from the night before. She had a vague mental picture of what Milt had looked like without his clothes on. He hadn't been very attractive.
"Turn down the bed," he ordered. She was certain there was a tremor in his voice when he gave the order, as though he wasn't quite sure of being obeyed. She moved to the bed and turned it down. The sheets were silk, and they were clean and fresh, and she was pretty sure they had been perfumed. She guessed that the whole place had been outfitted with Keller's money. It must have cost a small fortune. This place is a sex maniac's Disneyland, she thought. When she looked up, Milt was naked. The robe lay on the floor. He waddled across the room to her, and she had to fight to remain where she was. Her body trembled with the urge to run, but she told herself, "It won't do any good, it won't do any good. There's nowhere to run." Somehow, she managed to stay where she was.
Milt took her in his arms and pulled her close. She could feel his belly, big and soft, against her, and she was repelled by him. But when he kissed her, she opened her mouth to him. "This man owns me," she thought.
His hands slid down her back to cup the cheeks of her ass, and he pulled her close to him, plastering her abdomen, and her pussy, against him. She could feel his prick, hard, and big, poking at her, and she felt her knees go weak with disgust. There was no getting out of it. She would make herself go through with it. She would force herself to go through with it.
He broke off the kiss. She thought she saw more boldness in his manner now. He was surer of himself, surer that she wouldn't dare to deny him anything. She hung her head, ashamed of herself for lacking the courage to fight him off.
"Lie down, Arlene," he said. He watched her closely, as though trying to detect any reticence in her, any reluctance. "He's as much of a sadist as Keller," she thought. "He's looking for an excuse to punish me."
She lay on the bed and moved over to give him room. She spread her legs wide, ready to take him into her. There was no sense in waiting for the order, she thought. Better to get at it, better to get it over with.
He lay next to her, grunting with the effort of moving across the mattress, and then she felt his pudgy hands on her breasts. Her body tightened for an instant, and then she made herself relax. She felt his body moving to cover hers.
He kissed her again, and Arlene made herself return the kiss. She sent her tongue seeking his. He broke the kiss off and looked at her with delighted surprise.
"I didn't expect you to be so cooperative," he said.
"I'll cooperate, sir. Just don't hurt me. Please."
He smiled a knowing smile that sent a chill up Arlene's spine. "We'll see." He kissed her again, and Arlene embraced him, running her hands over his body to excite him. She had to please him. She had to keep him happy. She could remember all those devices out there, and she didn't want to find out what they were all for. She held him, kissing him and moving her tongue over his. Then he broke off the kiss, and she could tell that she had really turned him on. He was hotter than a firecracker. His prick was as stiff as a spike.
He lifted himself over her with some effort, and she reached between his legs and took the hard cock in her hands. He grunted in surprise and came down on her quickly. She was pretty sure he was afraid of coming before he got into her. He drove down atop her so quickly she had to hurry to get the prick centered on her slit.
Then it was in her, and he began to fuck her right away, pumping away with a frenzy. The cock drove into her, and she cried out in pleasure, not all of it put on. A cock was a cock, and it was hard and sliding through her, and she couldn't help feeling pleasure even as she felt disgust.
Milt grunted, wheezed and hissed like a steam engine, his soft body squishing over her. His chubby hands moved over the softness of her body, and she felt the nausea growing more powerful. She was glad that it was actually in progress, that he was in her and fucking her, because that relieved her of the necessity of allowing him to push into her, the necessity of surrendering to him.
But the pleasure was growing, too, at the same time. She felt it swelling in her, taking over, and she knew that it was going to help her to get past this moment, without doing something she would regret later. She surrendered herself to the joy, allowing it to take over her entire being. It was a godsend. It counteracted the disgust and, finally, drove it away entirely. Arlene thrust her hips up against Milt's, joining fully in the action, fucking for all she was worth. She groped toward her own climax, trying to blanket everything else out with the sensations that filled her.
Milt's hips accelerated in a wild, frenzied thrusting, as he grunted out his completion. Arlene felt the come spill into her body hotly, and she felt waves of pleasure covering her. She heard her own cries dimly, as though they had come from somewhere else, beyond the door. She let them come strongly, hoping that it would please Milt to hear her cry out in pleasure at his invasion of her body.
Then it was over, and she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the shame to come back now that the pleasure was ended. And it came. She felt a wave of self-disgust that she couldn't manage to rationalize away. She knew that she had had no choice, and that the pleasure she had felt had been thrust on her. She knew that she wouldn't have let him fuck her if she had had any say in the matter, and that she had done it to save herself from torture, perhaps even from death.
But she couldn't help feeling the self-disgust. She had enjoyed it. There was no explaining that fact away. Maybe she hadn't wanted it to happen, but she had liked it. At least part of her, half of her, had liked it, and she'd carry that knowledge with her for the remainder of her life.
Milton lay next to her, huge and soft, like a fish turned belly upward. He heaved air into his lungs, and his body jiggled with every movement. She hoped he would be finished with her now. He had taken part in things the night before, surely he would be tired out. But she knew she was kidding herself. He had come on like gang busters just now. She hadn't been screwed by many men in her life, but the ones she had allowed to have their fun had taught her the difference between a man who was giving his all and a man who was just beginning. She supposed that sex was something new to Milt and that, despite his grotesque physique, he was a normal and virile man. He had been saving himself up for a long time, and now he was going to spend the savings on her. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying. She had to keep cooperating until she could think of a way to get out of here. Then, and only then, would she be in a position to pay these bastards back for what they were doing to her. She'd get them, every one of them, but right now she had to play it their way.
"That was great," Milt said. He sounded much more confident now. He had proved to himself that she was really available to him, that she wouldn't dare to deny him his enjoyment.
"Yes, sir," Arlene said. She knew her voice sounded dull and lifeless, and that that might make him mad at her. But there wasn't enough energy in her to pretend a happiness that she didn't feel.
Milt giggled, and she told herself to remember that he was a sadist. He probably enjoyed things all the more with a girl who didn't even pretend to like him. "I think we'll try something else next," he said. "Something a little special."
She looked at him in horror. She had never done that for any man. Not that she had any hang-ups about that sort of thing, of course. It wasn't that at all. It was just that ... well, that was something special. And to do it for this ... this animal-that was more than she could even picture.
He giggled again.
"What's the matter, Arlene? Don't you like the idea? All I'm asking for is a blow job. You've done that before, haven't you?"
"No, sir. I've never ... "
"Well, that's great. You can break in on me. I'll be the first man you ever did it for. I like that." He lay there, looking at her, and then slowly, elaborately, raised his hand and pointed at his prick. It lay there, under the folds of his belly, peeking out at her like some living, mocking entity.
"Sir, please, I ... " She broke off at the scowl that began to appear on his face. She had forgotten the rules for a moment and had started to beg for mercy. And she was here to do as she was told, and nothing else.
Arlene bit her lip and raised herself to a sitting position. "Yes, sir," she said. The words were only a stall, something to fill time while she hesitated. She knew that Milt realized what she was doing. He grinned up at her. That was her first inkling that he wasn't a fool. He might be a funny-looking man, and he might have a lot of hang-ups, but he was intelligent. He could read her now, like a book. She would have to be careful with him, as careful as with Keller or any of the others.
She repositioned herself on the bed, taking as much time as she could. She expected Milt to say something about it, but he only lay there looking at her. He was enjoying himself, she realized. He was letting her stall, because he knew that the longer she stalled, the longer she would dread the inevitable.
She was inexpert at this sort of thing. She didn't know exactly what position to take, but she decided to kneel over him. She drew her knees up under her and looked down at the prick. She bent over, bringing her face close to it. It was already hard, she noticed. It was standing, raising itself for her, pointing at her face, as though it knew for itself what was about to be done.
Arlene took it in her hands. It was sticky, and smelled of its own juices, and hers. She fought down the gag reflex that started in her throat. She swallowed hard and licked her lips nervously. Milt was watching her and, at the sight of her tongue, his prick stiffened more. Arlene felt like screaming. She didn't know what to do now. This was new to her. Was she supposed to take the filthy thing right into her mouth? Or was she supposed to kiss it or lick it first? Either alternative sent a raging, rumbling gag reflex up from her stomach. But she had to do it. She didn't have any choice. She would just have to force herself. It could be as bad as she was thinking it would be. It would be-bearable.
She leaned down and touched her tongue to the end of the cock. It grew in her hand, sliding up at her like a snake. The sight, and the taste of it, the salty-strong flavor of flesh mingled with the unfamiliar alkaline taste of sperm, were too much for her.
"No!" She dropped the horrid thing and jumped back, clear to the edge of the bed, and almost fell off. Milt looked up at her with a half-surprised look on his face, as though the vehemence had taken him by surprise, but the actual refusal was what he had expected. "No!" she screeched again. "I won't! You slimy fat bastard! I won't do it! I don't care what you do to me, I just won't do it!"
She climbed off the big bed and ran to the door. She expected to see him coming after her, but he only rolled over and reached for something beside the bed. She didn't see what it was. A gun? Was he going to kill her?
Arlene felt a fresh panic well up in her. She had to get out of here. She had to run! If she didn't get out of this house right now, and off this island, she was going to go mad.
She opened the door and ran into the large room beyond. The big torture devices loomed before her, frightening goads, driving her to run all the harder. She ran for the single green door. That, at least, offered freedom from this room. She might be able to make it outside-she'd worry about the rest later. If she could get into the lake and make a swim for it, maybe she could stay afloat long enough to be picked up by some boat. She reached the door, her breath coming in big, heaving gulps. She grasped the knob and twisted.
It was locked. Of course.
Arlene turned and looked back across the basement. Milt was standing in the bedroom doorway, staring at her. He looked a little hurt, as though she had broken the rules of common decency, and had insulted him. Arlene looked around frantically, like a caged animal. There was no way out. There were other doors, of course, but they all led to bedrooms. She was certain of that. And even if she could manage to lock herself in one of them, the men had the keys. They'd drag her out, sooner or later. She sat on the floor and began to cry.
"You're going to be sorry for that," Milt said. He had come closer. "You're going to wish you hadn't done that, Arlene."
"I already do," Arlene said.
"No," he corrected her. "I mean you're really going to wish it."
Chapter 4
A moment later, the door opened behind Arlene, and she heard the men come in. She didn't bother to look up.
"What did she do?" Keller asked from somewhere above and behind her. She could feel the draft from the open door. She was too tired to try to escape now. And she knew that they would be blocking her way.
"She refused to French me," Milt said. "And she called me some things I don't want to repeat."
"On your feet, you!" Keller grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked hard. Arlene squealed and came shakily to her feet. Keller shoved her hard, toward the middle of the basement. Arlene felt fear returning to her. What were they going to do to her? What would the punishment be for refusing one of them some little sexual specialty? And of course she had called Milt some unpleasant things. That had been inexcusably stupid.
"Close the door, will you, Roger?" Keller asked. The door closed with a solid sound. Roger stood in front of it, leaning against it. Al Johnson stood a little to one side, smiling at her. He seemed glad that she had done what she had. Perhaps they all were. It gave them an excuse to punish her. Arlene felt her knees grow weak, and she had to fight to keep them from quivering under her. Keller walked over to her and, before she could move, slapped her across the face. He didn't even look angry. That was what had caused her to be caught unawares. The slap was hard, it turned her head around until she was looking sideways. She screamed and tried to break away.
"Stand still!" Keller caught her by the shoulder and held her where she was. Arlene rubbed her cheek. She felt the wetness of tears under her palm. "I guess it's time to have a trial," Keller said. He looked at the other men who all smiled and nodded. "Does anyone mind if I serve as judge?" They shook their heads.
"All right," he said. "Arlene Landis, you are charged with refusal to obey a direct order, and with insulting one of your masters. I won't ask you how you plead, because we all know you're guilty. If you weren't, Milt wouldn't have accused you. Isn't that right, Milt?"
"That's right, Prof."
"Of course. I'll just ask you why you did it, Arlene?"
"I ... I didn't mean to. I was overwrought." Arlene hated herself for the crawly tone of her voice. She wished she had the guts to stand up to them. But there was always the chance that if she begged, if she crawled for them a little, they might let her off without any punishment. "I'm sorry. And if you'll give me another chance, I'll do what you want. Honestly I will." She looked directly at Milt as she spoke the last words. He grinned, and she was sure he was about to accept her offer.
"Don't look to Milt," Keller said. "This is out of his hands now. It left his control when he called us on the intercom. You're being tried now, for an offense against all of us, an offense against the rules. And we'll all find you guilty, and we'll punish you. Your second chance will come after that. And your third chance, if you need one. And any subsequent chances. We'll always give you another chance, Arlene. But you'll have to be punished in order to earn each of those chances." He smiled at her in a cold, satanic way, and Arlene felt cold fear clear down into the pit of her being.
"We find you guilty of both counts," Keller said. He looked at the younger man. "We're all in concurrence on that score, aren't we?" They nodded. "And as judge, I'll pronounce first punishment. Then each of the other men will pronounce an additional punishment on you." He looked down at her and smiled again. "For my sentence, I think I'll give you five hours on the strappado."
"The what?"
He glanced at the chains hanging from the ceiling. Arlene looked at them and noticed for the first time that they were hooked up to an elaborate pulley arrangement. "We won't drop you," he said. "Not this time. We'll just hang you up and let you think things over for a while."
Keller looked around, and his eyes landed on Milt. "As the injured party, I'll let you have the next sentence, Milt."
He grinned like a kid about to open a present. He looked at Arlene, and she looked at him pleadingly for a moment. Then she saw that he had a hard-on, and she knew that there was no use pleading for any mercy from him.
"I think she needs a beating," Milt said. "Not anything that might injure her permanently, just ten or twelve whacks across the back."
"Ten, or twelve?" Keller asked.
"Oh. O.K. Twelve. Might as well give ourselves the benefit of the doubt, eh?"
"Fine. So she gets five hours on the strappado, and twelve whacks across the back. What about you, Al?"
Johnson looked at her and grinned slowly. "I think she ought to have some time to think about all this. And she looks to me like the kind who thinks best on an empty stomach. Why don't we let her go for forty-eight hours without any food?"
"Good. And you, Roger?"
Roger shrugged. "I can't think of anything to add."
"Oh, come on. With all the stuff we have down here, surely you can come up with something."
Roger looked around the room for a moment, as though looking for something suitable. Arlene felt her body shaking with huge sobs, and she hardly noticed when his eyes lit up. He grinned at everyone in the room. "Sure, I've got it. She wouldn't kneel down and suck you off, right, Milt?"
"That's right," Milt said.
"O.K. What could be more appropriate than to make her kneel down somewhere else?" He looked into the corner, and the others followed his gaze. Arlene looked at the same spot and saw a strange-looking device that seemed, from this distance, something like the kneelers she had seen in Catholic churches.
"Good," Keller said. "We'll give it a try. How long?"
Roger shrugged. "You said five hours on the strap. Why not the same amount of time on that?"
"Fair enough." Keller looked at Arlene again, and smiled the same cold smile as before. "This little petulance of yours is going to cost you quite a lot of discomfort, isn't it, my dear?" He laughed, a loud, devilish laugh she had never heard before, even when she had heard him laugh in class, back at college. It was entirely different from the laugh he had had then. "We have to think about the order of the punishments," Keller said. "We could give them to her in the order in which they were handed down, but I think it would be better if we gave her the beating now, and then hooked her up to the strappado and left her alone for a while. What do you think, men?"
There was a chorus of ayes. Keller reached out and grasped Arlene's arm. She yanked and pulled, trying to get out of his grip. She kicked at him and bent her free hand into a claw, reaching for his face. She didn't waste her wind with words or sounds.
"Al, give me some help here, will you?" Keller asked, struggling with her. Al leaped forward and she tried to kick him, too. Her right foot connected with one of his shins, but she was barefoot, and he laughed at the pitiful blow. He was in close then, and had her other arm in one hand. He stepped in and snaked one long leg around her calf. He pushed her back and, after a moment, Keller caught on and pushed her too. She was leaning back, off balance, and she had to stop kicking them with her one untangled foot, or she would fall. She stood very still. Al laughed and bent down. His long, lanky body bent at the waist, and he caught her free leg with one hand. He picked it up and hugged it against his side. Arlene screamed and tried to pull out of his grip, but it was no use. He had a grasp like steel.
"I've got her now, Prof," he said, and Keller let go of her other arm. She tried to rake Al's face, but he picked her up clear of the floor and held her in a position that made it impossible to reach his face, or any bare part of his anatomy.
The others applauded, as though they had just seen a particularly slick bit of maneuvering on the basketball floor. Al carried her as lightly as though she had been made of cotton. He carted her to the post in the middle of the floor, and Arlene screamed again and fought for all she was worth. It was like fighting steel bands.
It didn't take them long to get her fastened to the post. Al continued to hold her, but gave her wrists to Roger, who fastened the manacles to her. Al set her feet on the floor and jumped back, in case she should try to kick him. Arlene stopped struggling and stood leaning against the post, crying quietly.
"I think Al ought to do the honors," Keller said from somewhere behind her, "since he's the strongest man in the place." There were grunts of assent. Keller walked into Arlene's line of sight and strode to the wall, where several whips were hanging. It was just like Keller, she thought, to hang the whips right where they could be seen by the girl chained to the post. He looked them over, pulled a few down and hefted them. Finally, he settled on what looked like a riding crop. "I think this will make the least mark on her," he said. He carried it back, and passed out of sight again. Arlene tightened her body, grasping the post hard.
"Oh, God, don't let them do it!" she prayed silently.
"Here you are, Al," Keller said.
"Thanks." Arlene heard Al's footsteps as he took his place behind her, adjusting his position. She heard sobs coming from her own throat, and mentally she chided herself: "You're not going to stop them by crying before you're hurt."
She stifled the sobs and resisted the temptation to beg for mercy. What was coming was coming, and she could live through it. She'd felt pain before. It wasn't something pleasant, of course, or something to be deliberately sought out, but it could be borne.
The crop made a vicious whistle as it came through the air. The sound of its landing was just a dull pressure for the first instant, and Arlene didn't feel any pain until the next moment, when the shock of the blow had subsided. Then it was unbelievable. She screamed and pulled on her chains so hard she lifted her feet clear of the floor. Her legs flailed for an instant, and she kicked the post to which she was tied so hard she stubbed her toes painfully. The man laughed.
Then the crop descended again. This time the pain was instantaneous, and it was worse than the first time. The second blow crossed the first one, cutting into the exposed flesh, and it was like fire going through her skin. She screamed again, louder than the first time.
The first two blows had landed between her shoulder blades. The third struck her in the small of the back, and she thought she was going to pass out from it. She went weak for a moment, hanging from her chains, but then she caught herself and stood up again, setting her weight on her feet.
"There were nine more to go!" The thought cut through her mind as the whip had cut through her skin. She couldn't stand it! She wouldn't be able to live through nine more of those lashes. No one could.
The whip landed again!
She screamed, and then the words started to bubble out of her mouth unbidden, pleading, begging words, promises to do anything they wanted, words she couldn't remember a second after she had spoken them. She was saying anything, pleading for an end to the pain. She knew, dimly, that she would hate herself later for being such a coward, but she couldn't stand it. Her pride didn't matter at all now. The only thing that mattered was getting them to stop the whipping-that was more important than anything else. She would have killed a thousand babies, or blown up a city if it would have stopped the pain in that few moments.
The whipping kept on, steadily, for the remainder of the blows to which she had been sentenced. When it was over, she was hanging from her chains, crying and still babbling the pleas for mercy that hadn't done any good. She could hear Al behind her, a little out of breath. The other men clapped, as though he had given them a good show. Arlene didn't even hate them in that moment. The fear she felt toward them was too intense to allow any other emotion to share its place. She felt a mild gratitude to them for letting the whipping stop. Her back still felt as though it were on fire, but at least the pain wasn't getting any worse.
Someone, she didn't notice which of them, came forward and opened the manacles that held her to the post. She allowed herself to fall to the floor and lay there in a heap, crying softly.
"Get up, Arlene," Keller ordered. She didn't respond for a moment, but then she thought, "This is disobedience." She made the effort, and was surprised to find that she could stand quite easily. It wasn't without pain, of course, but she was strong enough. She rose and stood before them, her eyes on the floor. "Come over here, dear," Keller said, taking her hand. She followed him without resistance.
He led her to the chains hanging from the ceiling. The strappado, he had called it. She stood under the contraption and shivered. She didn't know what they had in mind now, but it couldn't be as bad as that whip had been. Hands gripped her right wrist, pulled it behind her, and fastened it to one of the manacles. She let out a little yelp as the tugging of her arm sent fresh pain through her wounded back. Her other wrist was hooked to the other manacle. The two chains were hooked together just above the manacles, and they held her wrists close together.
"This is a little device used in the Spanish Inquisition," Keller explained to her in a cheerful, helpful voice, as though he were lecturing one of his classes. "It's called the strappado. They used it to get people to admit to their crimes. You've already admitted yours, so we're just going to use it to punish you." He walked behind her, and she felt him tug at the wrist irons to make certain they were tight enough. He pushed one of them tighter, making metallic sounds as the rasp clicked. "Just to make certain you don't get loose, baby," he said. "We wouldn't want that to happen." He came around in front of her again. "In the old days, they used to lift people up with these devices, way up off the floor, and then drop them several feet and pull them up short. With their hands behind them, as yours are, it was rather painful. It usually resulted in dislocating their shoulders." He smiled his satanic smile. Arlene looked at him in horror. "But we're not going to do that to you, Arlene. Not this time, anyway. Maybe later. Today, we're just going to give you some time to meditate on your act of disobedience." Arlene opened her mouth to tell him that she had already had all the meditation she needed, and that she wouldn't ever disobey again, but he crossed her lips with his finger. "We'll just pull you up a little bit, in a position to stimulate your repentance, eh?" The other men laughed, and Keller answered with a chuckle of his own. He walked behind her, and in a moment Arlene heard the chains being pulled through the pulley at the top of the room. They dragged her wrists up higher, and then higher, until her shoulders began to ache from the strained position. Still he pulled them higher. Arlene moaned a little, and went up on tiptoe to keep her shoulders in a less painful position. The chains were dragged higher. She went up on the ends of her toes. The chains were dragged up another couple of notches.
Her arms were out behind her now, and she was bent over slightly at the waist in an effort to keep them in that position without dislocating her shoulders. She was up on her toes, and her calves as well as her toes and insteps, were beginning to ache from the effort. Even her knees and thighs were starting to hurt. Keller fastened the chains in position and walked around in front of her. Arlene bent her neck back to look at him pleadingly.
"How's that, honey?" he asked. "Doesn't that make you think more clearly about what you've done?"
"Please," she said. "Please, you can't leave me like this!"
"Sure we can. You just wait and see if we don't." He chuckled again, and the other men laughed. Keller reached out and fondled one of her breasts for a moment, then ruffled her hair as though he were kneading the head of a dog. He took a big watch out of his pocket and looked at it. "Five hours," he said, and set something. "Those alarm watches are very handy, Arlene. We'll be back in five hours to move you over to your next punishment."
"I can't stand it," Arlene said desperately. "I can't stand this for five hours! I can't!"
"You'll be surprised at how well you can stand it," Keller said. "Really. You'll be simply amazed to discover how much you can stand while you're here. And we'll be happy to show you." He laughed again, and walked out of her line of sight. "Come on, gentlemen," he said. "Let's go get some breakfast. I'm starved."
"You know," Roger's voice came back, "I was supposed to have her for the afternoon."
"I know," Keller answered. "It's a pain, having to discipline her, but we'll be able to enjoy her more fully once we've broken her spirit. Still, it is inconvenient, not having access to her for the next ten hours. I think we'd better plan on getting some more girls before long, gentlemen."
There was a chorus of assenting grunts, and then Arlene heard the door close. She cried out with the growing pain that was running through her body. Her calves were aching so hard that she tried relaxing them for a moment, but the pain that shot through her back, shoulders and arms was greater than the aching she had relieved down below, so she came up on tiptoe again quickly. How long had she been chained on this thing? It seemed like hours already. But she knew she had only been on it a few minutes. She had better learn to face facts. She had almost the full five hours to go.
And there was another fact to face-she was going to spend the rest of her life here, and she wasn't going to try to escape.
She wasn't going to do anything but what she was told to do.
* * *
Keller sat picking his teeth with a flat toothpick and sipping his coffee. The dishes were piled in the sink. He had washed his last dish in this place, he thought. The women would take care of menial tasks from this point on-Arlene and whoever joined her in bondage. He belched lightly and looked around the breakfast table at his three partners.
"Well, gentlemen, I think while we're waiting for little Arlene to think things over, we should discuss the question of finding another girl to keep here. One girl to four men is not a very good ratio in a place which exists for the pleasure of the men."
"Do you think that's a very good idea, Prof?" Milt asked nervously. He was sitting in his pants, stripped to the waist, and his flabby body looked as pale as a fish's. Keller couldn't really blame the little slut for not wanting to French him. But, of course, she had to be taught her place.
"A good idea? It's what we've gone to all this trouble for, isn't it? To get girls in the place?"
"Well, yeah, sure, but do you think it's smart to go after another one so soon?"
"I can't think of a better time. The authorities may have discovered the body of that young man we killed by now. If so, they probably think it was some spur-of-the-moment thing, something done by two or three hoodlums. They'll be looking for Arlene's body, not expecting another kidnapping. And, anyway, even if they do expect one, so what? They can't be everywhere at once. And we have the advantage of picking the time and place for our action." Keller looked around at the faces of the other men. Al and Roger nodded too. "Fine," Keller said. "Of course the choice of our next victim will have to be decided by all of us, in a vote. However, I have a girl in mind, and I've cased her out a little. She shouldn't be too difficult to take, if we're careful. She has a rather bad habit, just like Arlene. She dates the same man regularly, and they drive through some pretty deserted places."
"Who you got in mind?" Al asked.
"Well, I thought that since we already have a brunette, we should try for some variety and get ourselves a blonde this time. I was thinking, in particular, of Victoria Young."
They seemed to like the suggestion, as he had expected. Victoria Young was another of the prettiest girls in school. She had been elected homecoming queen during the last football season. She was a petite blonde of nineteen, only five feet, two inches tall, but with a pair of breasts that must have measured thirty-eight inches when she took a deep breath. Keller looked around at the men.
"It's all right with me," Al said. Roger shrugged and nodded. They were playing it casual, of course, but he knew they were excited by the idea. Milt betrayed his excitement a little more.
"Good," Keller said. He took a pencil and a pad from his shirt pocket and started to draw a representation of the street he had in mind for the snatch. "I'll outline my plan," he said. "Any objections or suggestions will be appreciated, of course. Now, the place I have in mind is right near the hills. We'll make use of your shooting ability, Al ... "
Chapter 5
Al had the whole back seat to himself. He checked the rifle one more time, more to allay his nervousness, Keller thought, than because he thought the rifle needed it. The other two were in the front with him, Roger behind the wheel because he was the best driver, and Milt sitting in the middle. Keller could feel the case in his pocket, with the already filled hypodermic nestled inside. It would knock little Vicky out for a few hours. Plenty of time to get her to the island.
Al's rifle was a .22. All the rifle he would need for this job, he had assured Keller, and it would be practically silent. He would be able to fire from inside of the car, with the back window rolled down just the right amount, which would deaden the sound even more. Firing a big bore rifle that way would deafen them all for hours, and might crack a window or two. Also, he had said, firing it from inside would keep the empty brass in the car when it ejected. That was a good idea, because the cops could trace a rifle a lot more easily by the empty brass than they could by the bullet. Bullets, especially hollow-point bullets, usually shattered on impact, Al had said. Keller had told him that the selection of the gun was entirely up to him, so long as he didn't fall down on the job.
They had passed the car several miles back, so it couldn't be too far away now, unless the idiots had decided to turn off their usual route this time. Keller checked his watch, holding it up to see the dial in the light from the big overhead floods the state had thoughtfully provided. Twelve-thirty. Where the hell were they?
There they were. He heard the engine before he saw them, and then Roger held up a hand as he caught sight of the car in the rear view mirror.
"I know," Keller said, and turned to look at Al. "Here they come. Are you ready?"
"Is the Pope a Catholic?" Al grinned. He rolled the left rear window down a couple of inches and worked the slide on the rifle. By the time the car came up even with them, he had the rifle trained through the open space. He let the vehicle move ahead a little, then touched the trigger.
The sound was a good deal louder than Keller had expected after listening to Al's description of it. It was a sharp cracking sound, and the empty shell hit his ear. But the right front tire of the other car went flat with startling suddenness, wrenching the little coupe hard to the right. The driver had his right arm around Vicky, and he almost didn't get control of the car again. When he finally got it to a stop, he was still in the middle of the road. He drove the car off to the side at a flopping creep, and there was a moment's pause. Keller could see the driver saying something to Vicky, no doubt telling her that it was only a flat and would be fixed in a hurry. Then he opened the door on his side and got out.
Before he could close the door again, there was another sharp crack from Al's rifle which left Keller's ears ringing. But the boy who had just stepped out of the other car didn't have any ringing in his ears. He dropped like a pole-axed steer. The sound of his body hitting the asphalt was audible even inside the car.
Keller heard the girl call to her boy friend a couple of times, and then she slid across the seat and got out. She was wearing a green minidress, very short, and her legs were enough to make a man's mouth water. She looked down at the crumpled body in the road and screamed.
Roger had the engine running by this time, and he slipped it into gear and pulled up even with the other car. Vicky stood looking at them for a moment, no doubt still not clear as to what was happening. She probably expected them to help. They'd help her all right. Now, if only she would stay confused for another couple of seconds ...
But of course that was too much to expect. She suddenly turned and ran around the front of her car. She had enough presence of mind to take off up the side of the hill banking the road. That was the one way the car wouldn't be able to follow her. "Goddamn it," Keller said.
"Stop!" Al ordered, and Roger hit the brakes hard. The car stopped with a squeal, and Al was out the door. His long legs snaked lazily, devouring more ground with each stride than Vicky could cover in four. He took off up the steep hill, choosing a path that would intersect with hers, and in a second it was obvious that he was going to overtake her before she could get out of sight. Keller reached back and pulled the door closed.
"Go forward," he said to Roger. "Stay even with them." Roger did better than that. He pulled up to a spot even with the place where Al would catch Vicky. In a moment they saw him reach out with a casual-looking gesture, the kind he used to intercept the ball on the court, and grab her by the hair. There was a short cry, and then he had pulled her off her feet. She was on her ass, and Al reached down and clamped a huge hand over her mouth. Good boy! Keller thought, and then the two of them came skidding down the road.
Keller scrambled out of the car and pulled the hypo case out of his pocket. By the time Al and the girl were on the road, he had the needle ready. Milt had jumped out behind him and moved in to help Al. "Her arm!" Keller said, and Milt yanked Vicky's arm up into the light. She tried to pull away, but Keller grabbed the arm with his free hand. He didn't try for a vein; he just stabbed the needle into the fleshy part of the upper arm and pressed the plunger as hard as he could. The girl gave a muffled cry and struggled all the harder. She almost succeeded in breaking the needle off in her arm. Keller pulled it back out. "Get over here," he said. Al picked her up, still squirming and struggling, and carried her toward the back of the car. Keller put the needle into the case again and trotted along with him. He shoved the case into his pants pocket and came out with the extra keys. The trunk yawned open, the light inside disturbingly bright. Milt pulled the canvas bag open and Al stuffed Vicky inside. The drug was taking effect, and she wasn't doing much struggling by now. Al pulled the bag closed and snapped the padlock in place, then jumped back as Keller slammed the trunk lid. They all ran into the car. As they had planned, Milt got in front again, and Keller slid into the back seat with Al. Al shoved the rifle under the seat as the engine roared and the car leaped into the road. Keller could see the speedometer needle climbing rapidly to the level of the state speed limit which was as fast as they would go. A highway patrolman might spot them. And of course they wouldn't want anyone to think they were lawbreakers!
* * *
Awareness invaded Vicky's mind slowly. She started to awake several times, but something deep down in her mind told her that she didn't want to, and she fought it down. The thing that finally shocked her into full consciousness was the realization that she was naked. She moved fitfully, and felt the blanket under her, scratchy against her bare skin, and then she touched her thigh automatically. Her eyes popped open, and she sat up suddenly.
The place was dark, not completely, but there was very little light. She could make out a set of iron bars a little beyond the foot of the cot on which she was lying, and over to her right there were a toilet and a wash basin. She rose and went to the iron bars. She was able to see a little better now, and she could tell that the bars comprised a door and a panel on either side. She took the door in her hands and rattled it. It was locked, of course.
"Oh, my God," she said aloud. Her voice came out in a whisper, and then she repeated, more loudly, "Oh, my God!" She shook the door hard, as though she could tear it open by brute strength. The iron was hard and cool under her touch. It was also unyielding. "What is this place?" she said, asking the question of the room, and the cell.
"You're in a house on an island," a voice told her from across the big room. It was a feminine voice, and young-sounding, but with a deadness in it that was chilling. Vicky looked in the direction from which it had come.
The walls were lined with cells like her own. She could make out the bars now, as her eyes became accustomed to the dimness. The middle of the floor was filled with pieces of machinery or something, but she could see between them well enough to make out a girl in the cell opposite her own.
"Who are you?" she asked, fighting to control her voice.
"Just another ... another inmate." The words sent a coldness through Vicky's body.
"What kind of place is this?"
"It's a club, dear. A very exclusive club, belonging to some men who like to bring girls here and keep them as pets. And you've been selected to be one of the pets. Just like me."
"Talk sense will you? Who are you? Where are we?"
"I told you. We're in a house on an island. If you want me to be more precise, we're in the basement. I've been here for a week or so, I guess. They don't tell me what day it is."
"How can you be so calm about it?"
"What's the sense in being frantic? Is that going to break down these bars? Or that locked door over there? Will it get you past the killer dogs outside? And then will it allow you to walk across fifteen miles of water?"
Vicky was about to throw a contemptuous rejoinder at the girl in the other cell when she heard a door open. It sounded like a heavy door and, as soon as it was open, a switch snapped and the entire basement was filled with light.
It was blinding at first, and Vicky had to squint to see the man in the doorway. He was a tall black, and the sight of him brought back the memory of the evening. Was it this evening? How long had she been unconscious? How far had they brought her?
The black stepped into the basement, and she recognized him right away. She had seen him play basketball a number of times, and had watched him win the track meet for the school the year before. There were some other men behind him, and she recognized one of them as a professor, though she didn't know his name. She had seen him around the campus, but she had never taken a class from him. The others looked vaguely familiar too. The last one to come through the door was a short fat boy of about twenty. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of it, leaning against it to block the way.
Vicky felt a sudden flash of rage, strong enough to drive out the fear she had felt up to that moment. "Who are you people?" she demanded. "Why have you brought me here?" She looked at them with fire, until their grins reminded her that she was naked. She looked around the cell for her clothes, but they weren't there. There was nothing to do but be brazen about it. She stared back at the men with as much defiance as she could muster.
"Hello, Vicky," the professor said. He walked to within a foot of the bars and looked her up and down insolently. Vicky had an almost overwhelming urge to turn away from his gaze, but she resisted it, and returned his stare. "To answer your questions in order," he said, "my name is Keller. Professor John Keller." The name was vaguely familiar to Vicky. Psychology or something like that. "The other gentlemen are my fellows members in this club. We're your new owners. We've brought you here because we thought we could have a lot of fun with you. We still think so."
"I guess it's been something of a shock for you to wake up in that cell naked. We didn't treat Arlene that way when we first brought her here. Did we, Arlene?"
"No, sir," the girl in the other cell said. There was something familiar about her voice, but Vicky was too busy to give her a thought right now.
"We decided to go ahead and undress you before you woke up because it seemed like a good psychological ploy. Besides," he said with a devilish grin, "we were all anxious to see if you were a real blonde."
That did it. Vicky felt herself flush clear down to her toes. Her gaze wavered and then broke, and she looked at the floor. Her cheeks felt suddenly wet. "You bastard," she said softly.
"You're going to be very sorry you said that, Vicky," the professor said. Then he raised his voice, calling across the basement to the other girl. "Wouldn't you say she's going to be sorry for saying that, Arlene?"
"Yes, sir," the girl said obediently.
"Look," Vicky said, the rage returning to her. "I don't know what you've done to gutless over there, but I promise you, you're not going to turn me into a whipped dog. You and your bully boys."
"Did you hear that, gentlemen?" Keller asked, looking at the others. "She says we're not going to be able to break her. You think we made a mistake in choosing her?" There was laughter. "You see, Vicky, we prefer them a little spirited. Arlene here was really too easy to break. Hardly any fun at all. I hope you turn out to be as tough as you think you are. I suppose it's only fair to give you a chance to be a nice, obedient little slave before we start in on you, though. We just drew lots for you upstairs, and Al here got first turn with you. Will you go to the bedroom with him willingly?"
Vicky stared at Keller, and then at Al Johnson. She didn't say anything.
"I asked you a question, Vicky," Keller said.
"Go to hell."
"Well, I'm glad to see you're going to make a contest of it, dear. What do you think of that, Arlene?"
"I think she's even dumber than I was," the other girl said. Vicky looked at her for the first time since the lights had been turned on.
"Arlene Landis," she said. "You were one of the homecoming princesses ... "
"That's right, dear," Keller said. "We prefer beautiful girls. As long as we're going to go to all the trouble and risk of bringing young women here, we can't see any sense in taking any but the best available."
Vicky ignored him, fastening her gaze on Arlene. "What kind of a woman are you?" she demanded. "How can you knuckle under to these swine? You ought to be ashamed to show your face."
"Big brave girl," Arlene shot back in a voice that dripped contempt. "We'll see how big you talk when they've worked you over a little. Just wait till they try out some of these things on you." She indicated the pieces of machinery with a sweeping gesture of her hand. Only they weren't pieces of machinery, Vicky could see now. They were some kind of implements and, she was sure, with a sudden sinking feeling, that they were torture implements. She shored up her courage.
"You bet we'll see."
"Bravo," Keller said. He clapped mockingly. "Bravo, dear girl. I'm so glad to see you're going to give us a good show for our effort. And now, I think it's time to take you out of your cell and start teaching you your place."
Johnson moved toward the cell, and Vicky noticed for the first time that he was holding a big ring of keys. He had one of them separated from the others already, and he inserted it in the lock of the cell door. Vicky moved back to the wall and crouched there, holding her hands before her in the form of talons. If this bastard thought he was going to take her without picking up a few sore spots in the process, he was sadly mistaken.
One of the others, not the one by the door but the other, moved into the cell too, beside Johnson. The two of them fanned out as wide as the cell allowed, and came toward her, closing in from two directions. Vicky bit her lip and felt sweat standing out on her forehead in beads. They looked so big, and so strong, and she knew Johnson was quick and powerful, anyway. He had proved that in sports. A whimpering sob pushed its way up into her throat, but she forced it back down. They might hear her cry, but not before she was hurt, at any rate.
They stopped when they were almost within reach. "How you want to do it, Roger?" Johnson asked. "You want to take one side and me the other? Or one of us take her from the top and the other from the bottom?" He sounded genuinely amused, as though the idea of the two of them needing any kind of strategy to overpower her was funny.
"Oh, I don't know," the one called Roger answered. "I think maybe the top and bottom approach would be the best."
"Fine. Which you want?"
"Well, since you have the reach on me, why don't you go for her legs?"
"That's jim dandy with me, buddy."
They moved a little closer together and then spread out again. Vicky wished they'd go ahead and grab her and get it over with. But of course they were amusing themselves, and their friends.
"Yaahh!" Johnson yelled, and jumped forward a half inch. He jumped back again immediately, as Vicky let out a startled cry and raked the empty air with her nails. The men all laughed, and then Roger made a little feint at her too. She was expecting this one, and didn't react quite as violently as she had the first time. Still, she did jerk, and they laughed again.
Then Johnson made another feint, like the first one, and when she raked at the spot where he should have been, he came in again, as quick as a striking snake, catching Vicky off balance. He dived in low and grabbed her by the thighs, his arms circling them tightly. She tried to claw him, but he lifted suddenly, bringing her feet off the floor, and she waved her arms for an instant, trying to maintain her balance. Hands grabbed and pulled her arms, and she fell back a bit, scraping her shoulder painfully on the wall. Roger had a grip on her arms just below the elbows, and she knew even as she fought that she wouldn't be able to break his hold.
"You bastards!" she screeched. "You dirty, lousy bastards!"
"Tsk, tsk. Such language from a lady," Keller said. "That's just something else we're going to have to make you sorry for, my dear."
Johnson and Roger put her down in front of Keller. Johnson let go of her legs, giving them a quick stroking motion first. Roger wrested her arms behind her and held them there. Keller looked her up and down again. "Very nice," he said. "Very, very nice. It looks like you have some competition for our attention, Arlene." Arlene didn't say anything.
"She'll get all of your damned attention," Vicky said. "Because you'll never get me to ... to ... service any one of you."
"Really?" Keller sounded genuinely amused at the challenge. "I'll make you a bet, dear. Before we're done with you, you'll be begging to French any one of us, any one of us who'll have you."
"Oh, brother. You should live so long, you filthy old man!"
The epithet seemed to get to him for a moment. He frowned at her, then smiled again. "Arlene," he called. "I'd like your advice on something."
"My advice, sir?" She sounded surprised.
"Right. Of all three tortures we used on you, excluding the hunger, which of them was the worst?"
"The worst, sir?" She was silent a moment. "I think that kneeler thing was the worst."
"The kneeler thing, eh?"
"Yes, sir." There was horror in her voice that hadn't been there before she said it. The feeling communicated itself to Vicky.
"All right," Keller said. "Let's bring her over this way, Roger. That is, if you all agree to the choice?"
There were mumbles that sounded like assent. Roger dragged her toward a corner of the basement. She saw something there that looked like a kneeler in a church, but there were irons at the top of it, and at the bottom, too. She started to resist but then saw that it was futile. They'd have her over there no matter how hard she fought them. Passive resistance, she thought. She'd do nothing, either for or against them. Not for the time being. If they wanted to torture her, she would have to put up with it. But she wouldn't go to bed with them. If they threw her into the bed and piled onto her, that would be something else. She wouldn't resist, but she wouldn't be any good to them either. Yes, she thought, that was the best way, the only way, to fight them.
Roger led her to the kneeler or whatever it was and forced her to kneel. As soon as her knees touched it, she realized what the idea was. It was like a kneeler in a church, all right, except that the part on which she was kneeling, rather than being a padded board, was a bare one, and it was turned edge on. It was a thin board, and the moment she put her weight on it, the pain started in her shins. It was going to be bad, she thought. Bad, but not unbearable. She could take it.
Roger stuck her wrists into the irons at the top and locked them tightly. Then he knelt down behind her, and she felt her ankles grasped and pushed into the leg horns. The irons were closed as tightly as the wrist irons, and she was fastened in position. She tried moving her hands and feet and found that she had less play than she had thought. She had no option left, except remaining exactly where she was, kneeling in this position. Sweat stood out all over her body. The pain in her shins was already getting worse. How long were they going to keep her here?
As though he had read her mind, Keller took out a big pocket watch and set a dial on it. "This will let us know when it's time to come and set you lose, Vicky," he said. "It's an alarm watch. We put Arlene on this particular device for five hours. That really made a believer out of her. Didn't it, Arlene?"
"Yes, sir. It sure did," Arlene said from somewhere behind Vicky.
"But she had already decided to do what we wanted. And, as you've already told us, you're a lot tougher than she is. So in your case, I think we'll double the length of time."
Vicky felt her eyes widen, but she fought to keep the surprise, and the horror, out of her voice. "That sounds about right. I should be able to stand twice what she can."
"I'm sure you can. At any rate, ten hours is exactly what you're going to spend there. Do a little meditating, you're in the right position for it. Think things over. You might decide that obedience isn't so bad after all."
"Go to hell," Vicky said.
"I think we'll make it twelve hours for that, dear." He smiled down at her with a look that was almost benign. "Now, do you have any other comments or suggestions?"
Vicky started to speak, but she thought better of it. Her shins already felt as though they were on fire. Twelve hours, she thought, and had to fight to keep from crying. "That's what I thought," Keller said. He reached down and fondled one of her breasts. She wanted to spit on him, but she just looked away, at the wall in front of her. "Let's go, gentlemen," Keller said. "I think little Vicky wants to be alone with her thoughts." They walked toward the door, out of her line of sight. Vicky had a sudden urge to call them back, to beg them to let her up, and to promise them anything they wanted. Her shins were already in agony. But she stifled the impulse. She wouldn't give in! And certainly not this soon, or this easily. But it hurt so much!
"By the way, Arlene," Keller's voice said from behind her. "It's never been of any consequence before, but we have this whole basement wired. Talking is forbidden, unless you're told to do so by one of us. That goes for both of you girls. For each word either of you speaks, you will be fastened to the kneeler for one hour. One word, one hour. Two words, two hours. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Arlene said.
"What about you, Vicky?"
"Yes, sir," Vicky said, and instantly hated herself for it.
She had never had the slightest inkling that twelve hours could be so long. She knelt there, feeling the sweat roll down her body, between her legs, over her breasts; from her forehead it ran into her eyes. She had never thought about sweat running into her eyes before, but she had never been manacled before. Her hands were just a little too high for her to reach them with her head, and rubbing her face across her arms was like trying to dry a floor with a wet sponge. She was covered with sweat. There wasn't a portion of her body that didn't have sweat rolling across it in rivulets. And she was thirsty, of course. It wasn't possible to sweat that much, for that long, without becoming painfully thirsty. That was something else that had never occurred to her before: thirst could be painful. Whenever she had been thirsty before, she had simply drunk water, or a coke ... But now the thirst was terrible. Her throat hurt.
But the worst thing was the pain in her shins. They felt as though they had been hacked off by cleavers before she had been on the kneeler for an hour. She lost track of the time very quickly; they had taken her watch. She only knew that it seemed like twelve days, rather than twelve hours. She was certain they had gone over the time, not that that made any difference. They were in position to make up the rules and then break them as they chose. She hadn't really thought about it, but she was totally, completely in their power. She wanted to tell Arlene that she was sorry for the things she had said, and that she understood a little better now. But she didn't dare speak.
* * *
When the door finally opened, she almost cried out in relief. She twisted her head and looked at them. They were all laughing and joking, and Al Johnson had a drink in his hand. Vicky licked her lips, and found them dry.
"Well, now, how do you feel, Vicky?" Keller asked jovially.
"Please ... " Her voice was cracked and uncontrolled, and she swallowed and tried again, with somewhat better results. "Please, sir, please. I can't ... I can't stand it." She cried, but there weren't any tears. She had wept all her tears in the last several hours, and now all she could do was make big, hard sobs that hurt clear through her. Keller chuckled.
"Oh, come on, this isn't the courageous girl who was spouting such brave words just ... " he consulted his watch, " ... just eleven hours and fifty-seven minutes ago. I thought we'd made a mistake then, and kidnapped Joan of Arc or someone. Now you sound like that trained bitch over there."
"Please," she said. "Please. I'll do what you say. I'll have sex with any of you, any time you want. Only please turn me loose from this thing!"
"That's damned white of you," Al Johnson said.
"What?"
"Sir."
"What, sir? I ... I ... "
"I'm really flattered to hear that you're willing to go to bed with me, honey, but that isn't really all we put you on there for."
"But I don't under ... "
"You heard the man. He told you what we'd have you doin' before we were through with you."
Vicky thought back. It was hard. It seemed like a year ago. But she remembered Keller had said something about making her beg to ... to ...
No! No, she couldn't do that! Not beg to do it, anyway. She just couldn't.
"Well, Vicky?" Keller prodded gently. "How about it?"
"I ... I ... " From somewhere deep inside her, Vicky felt the pride, and the anger, swell up again. She looked at the wall and bit her lip.
"I see," Keller said. "All right, honey, if you prefer it that way. We'll give you some more time to think about it." He took out his watch again. At that moment, the alarm went off, with a soft, chiming sound. Almost a pathetic sound now.
"Oh, please," Vicky said. "Please, sir. I ... "
"Go to hell," Keller said. "I think you're just stubborn, dear. We're going to let you stay that way. We'll give you another five hours." He adjusted something on the watch. "There. We'll be back when your time is up."
"Shit," Al Johnson said. "Goddamn it, I thought the waiting was over."
"So did I, Al," Keller said sympathetically. "But you know as well as I do that she isn't going to be any good to us until she learns her lesson, and learns it thoroughly. If you're horny, take Arlene upstairs with you."
"Yeah, I guess she'll have to do."
"No, please," Vicky said. She felt something break in her. She couldn't stand another five hours on this thing. It was more than any human being could take. "Please. I'll do it. I'll beg. Only take me off of this thing. Please, please, please!" Her voice rose to a shrill cry at the end. She started sobbing again.
"You're too late," Keller said. "You had your chance to knuckle under. You'll get another chance five hours from now. Come on, gentlemen."
"Just a minute while I fetch Arlene," Al said. Over her sobbing, Vicky heard the cell door open and close. When they opened the door, there was a sudden draft over her sweaty body, and she quivered. Then the light went out, and the door closed again. She continued crying her tearless sobs ...
* * *
She completely lost track of the time this time. She had the feeling that she must have slept, mercifully, through part of it. She only knew that when she woke up, they were there again, and Al was opening the irons on her wrists. Her shoulders hurt like hell when she moved her arms down from the position in which they had been bound for seventeen hours. Then he opened the irons on her ankles and put a hand under each of her arms. He pulled her upright, and she let out a loud squeal as her knees straightened. Her shins had gone numb, and yet they seemed to hurt at the same time. It wasn't like any feeling she had ever known.
When Al let go of her, she almost toppled over, but caught her balance in the nick of time. Her legs shook under her like two columns of putty. She felt sick and weak, and dirtier than she could remember ever having felt before. She stared at her feet, afraid to look at any of them.
"Turn around here," Keller ordered from behind her, and she turned painfully to face him. Beyond him, she could see the cell in which they had locked Arlene again. Vicky looked at Arlene, expecting to see a look of satisfaction on her face, but she saw only pity staring back at her. The pity was almost as bad as the pain she still felt, no one had ever pitied her before. "Now," Keller said, "I wonder whether you have something to say to us? If not, don't worry about it. We have plenty of time, dear. We can always lock you back on the kneeler for another little session, until you think of the right words."
"No!" The word flew out of her mouth so quickly, and so vehemently that they all laughed. Vicky rubbed her thigh nervously. "No, sir, please. That won't be necessary."
"All right, then, speak your piece."
"I ... I would appreciate it very much, sir, if you let me French you." There. The words were out. She had said them. Now she would have to do it, but that didn't seem as important as it had seemed seventeen hours ago, or even five.
"Just me?" Keller asked with an arched eyebrow.
"No, sir," she said quickly. "I mean any of you, of course. Any of you," she repeated nervously, rubbing her thigh again.
"What do you think, gentlemen?" Keller asked. "Did that sound like begging to you?"
"Nope." It was Al, of course. "That sounded like a reasonable, polite request. She wasn't begging, Prof."
"You heard what the man said, Vicky. Put some soul into it."
"I ... I ... "
"Oh, hell," Al broke in. "I guess she's gonna need some more time on the kneeler."
"No, please. Please. Let me French you," she said with feverish eagerness. "Please, sir. I beg you. Just let me French you. Any of you. Or all of you. Please, please, please. Just give me a chance to do that." She fell to her knees, and even the sudden pain that shot up through her legs was almost unnoticed. She lay on the floor in front of Al, groveling. "Oh, please, sir," she said, almost incoherently. "Please, let me French you."
"O. K.," Al said grudgingly. "That's a little better. After this, when you're told to beg, you make it sound like you mean it, bitch."
"Well, I guess our new girl is ready to start eating her keep," Keller said. He sounded relieved, as though the sport had begun to pall. "Well, Al, she's still yours first, from the lottery. If you want her, that is. She looks pretty unkempt right now."
"That's all right," Al said. "I'll get her cleaned up. I've waited long enough."
Vicky felt a toe prod her side roughly. "Get up," Al said. "On your feet, tramp." She climbed to her feet, groaning. The pains in her body seemed to have flowed together, so that she was just a mass of discomfort. "Come on with me," Al said. She followed him, struggling to keep up with his longer strides. He stopped at a door and stared at her pointedly. It took her a moment to realize what he wanted of her. She opened the door for him and stood aside while he walked in. She followed him and shut the door behind her.
It was a bedroom, and a very plush one. The king-sized, canopied bed looked inviting. She wanted to crawl into it and sleep for sixteen hours. But of course she couldn't do that.
"There's the bathroom," Al said, pointing to a door. "Go on in and take a shower and comb your hair. Clean up the best way you can. Leave the door open," he said suddenly, as though it had just occurred to him.
"Yes, sir." The thought of a shower was a pleasant one.
"And don't take all fucking night about it, you understand?"
No one had ever talked like that in her presence before, except for a couple of hippie types on the campus, but she was far beyond the point of being shocked by language.
"No, sir, I won't," she said. She wondered why she had ever made a big fuss about things. It wasn't hard, being obedient. It was almost nice to have someone make decisions for her. And it was certainly better than being chained to that awful thing out there.
"You'll find a comb in there, too," Al said. "You fix yourself up good. Or as good as you can right now."
"Yes, sir. I'll make myself pretty for you," she said. He grinned.
"That's good. Then you come on out here again, and we'll get down to business."
The shower was as good as she had expected. The hot water stung her shins, bringing the pain to life again, but it also washed off the sweat, and laved away a good part of the soreness. It would be a long time, she supposed, before she would be rid of the soreness altogether.
When she got out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, she saw someone who was almost the girl she had been before they had tortured her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face had wrinkles around the mouth, but that would pass, with some sleep. Her shins and knees were like two pieces of raw meat, red with sores. But the sores were shallow ones, they would go away. She'd have pretty legs again. She ran the comb through her hair, applied deodorant and some perfume she found in the medicine cabinet, and took a deep breath. It was time.
He was waiting for her, sitting in a chair, as naked as she was. It was a shock to her. For some reason she hadn't expected to see him naked. His long, black body overflowed the top of the big chair, and his legs stretched out far in front of it. He looked powerful and competent and, despite herself, Vicky felt a surge of sexual desire.
"I'm ready, sir," she said demurely, looking at the floor in front of her.
"Turn down the bed," Al ordered brusquely. She hurried to the bed and pulled the spread down, and then the blankets. She pulled them down halfway, as she would have done at home. The sheets were silk, and they were a deep-blue color. "Pull the blankets and the top sheet all the way down to the foot of the bed," Al commanded. She bustled around the bed, doing a neat, quick job. Then she turned to face him, waiting for her next orders. Al got up and came toward her, his long body flexing darkly with each step. "Okay," he said. "Now, get on the bed. Over in the middle."
Vicky climbed onto the bed. It was a very good bed, and just the feel of it under her made her feel more tired than ever. She fought to keep her body tense and her mind alert. She knew that if she allowed herself to relax, she'd be asleep in an instant. She could imagine how Al would react to that. She knew, now, that they enjoyed torturing young girls, and they would seize any pretext. She would have to be very, very careful not to give them any opportunities to take offense.
Al piled onto the bed next to her. She felt a slithering heat in her belly. She was in bed with him, with this man she hadn't even known until hours ago. She was going to have sex with him, and was going to do anything he told her to do.
Vicky was no virgin. She had been the route with three men so far, but she had never thought that the time would come when she would be in bed with a man she didn't really know. And as to Frenching him, she hadn't graduated to that yet, even with the men she had been to bed with, men for whom she had felt a genuine fondness.
"O.K., slut," Al said. "You can start now. And remember, you begged to be allowed to do it. It's out of the goodness of my heart that I'm lettin' you go through with it." He grinned in obvious enjoyment.
"Yes, sir." Vicky ducked her head in a little bow of acknowledgment. She looked down the length of Al's body at his cock, huge and heavy-looking. It was just beginning to stiffen. It lay in the cushion of his scrotum lightly, lifted a bit by its own hardness. Vicky licked her lips and felt her heart beat, impossibly hard and fast, and wondered if she could go through with it. She didn't even know how to go about it. She had heard of "sucking cocks," but she wasn't certain if that was literal, or just a figure of speech.
"You don't know how to begin, do you?" Al asked. He sounded almost contemptuously amused.
"I ... "
"Do you?"
"No, sir."
"O.K., I'll tell you. You get down here where the meat is first. Then you take it in those lily-white hands of yours, and you hold it up. I don't think you'll have much trouble holding it up, honey. Soon as you touch it, it's gonna want to stand up all by itself. Well, you hold it in place, and you bend down there and you lick it. You lick it all over, but mostly on the head, and on the crown, which is the most tender part. You know where I mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. And it's going to get nice and hard for you. Then you just sort of purse your lips, pull them back over your teeth, and you rock back and forth, so your lips cause friction against the head of that prick. And when I go off, you swallow all that nice, hot come. You don't spit any out, you don't lose a drop of it. You got that?"
"Yes, sir." She felt her belly twist itself into knots. She was going to have to do it. She had no doubt that she could. Seventeen hours ago she wouldn't have been able to, but now she had learned a thing or two about priorities, she thought.
"All right, then, get on down there, baby." He grinned at her, and she knew he could tell how torn up she felt about doing this thing. And, of course, he was enjoying that. She moved down to a position even with his cock. It was stiffer now than it had been before, stiffer and bigger. The mere closeness of her body seemed to make it grow. She reached out gingerly and took it in her hands. It was hard and throbbing, and hot to her touch. She felt disgust well up in her. She was going to have to put this thing in her mouth! It was impossible. But she knew, really, that it wasn't impossible, she was going to do it, and soon. In fact, she was going to start on it right now.
She bent over the prick, sending her long blonde hair cascading over Al's abdomen. The touch of it made the cock stand a little straighter. Vicky stuck out her tongue and touched the tip of the cock with it. She tasted salt and flesh and sweat, and some other taste she had never known before. The touch of her tongue to the huge organ was fleeting and she had to muster her will power to touch it again. This time she held her tongue against it for longer and even managed to move it a little, licking the cock.
The effect was magical. The cock swelled in her hands, hardening and growing to a size that seemed almost ludicrous. She jerked back as it nudged her face, and heard a tight, lustful laugh from Al. She touched her tongue to it again, licking it more strongly this time. There was a tremor through Al's belly, and he made a little grunting sound.
Vicky was as nervous as a cat, and the disgust she felt was almost a physical nausea. Her stomach was tied in knots of fear and dread, and she didn't know how much longer she could continue. But the soreness in her shins and knees answered her question-she could go on with it until she dropped from exhaustion, that was how long. She could go on with it all night at least, if Al wanted it that way. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of finding an excuse to torture her again.
She moved her tongue over the cock's head more fully than before, leaving a trail of saliva on it. It was bigger now than after the first time she had licked it. She supposed it was at its maximum size. Despite the disgust she felt, she couldn't help a surge of excitement that coursed through her body at the sight and the touch of such a massive organ. She licked it thoroughly. The strong taste wasn't as bad now. It was like licking a lollipop, she thought. After the first few strokes, the tongue lost some of its sensitivity. That would help. She forced herself to show enthusiasm, licking the head and then dipping down along the side of the prick, licking the shaft as she went.
Al began to quiver, his flat, hard belly rippling with pleasure. Vicky felt a wave of satisfaction, with the knowledge that she was getting the job done and pleasing him. With the satisfaction came pleasure. She loathed herself for the pleasure but knew it was normal. It was relief, magnified a thousand times by the desperate need to keep Al happy with her. She couldn't help feeling that.
She continued to lick cock. Her tongue was getting dry, and she had to roll it over the inside of her mouth to moisten it again. The cock was huge and hard and mocking there in front of her eyes. She forced herself to start licking it again.
Vicky knew somehow that it was time to take the prick in her mouth though she had put it off as long as she could. The thought disgusted her, and besides, she couldn't see how she could possibly get the whole organ into her mouth.
Still, there was no use putting it off too long. She would have to do it sooner or later anyway, and Al would be madder than hell if she didn't do it right.
She forced herself to take the cock in her mouth, at least a part of it, as though by doing it a little at a time she could reduce the disgust she felt.
The head slid past her lips, and she felt it against her teeth, and on her tongue. She had a moment's nausea, and a desire to gag, but she fought it down. She didn't think Al had even noticed. She took more of the cock into her mouth, part of the huge shaft, hot and throbbing with life. Vicky knew she was going to gag soon if she didn't get better control of herself. She left the cock for a moment, swallowed hard twice and took it in again. She didn't know how much longer she could continue without losing her mind. This was horrible, the most disgusting thing she could imagine, but not the most fearsome, she thought. That kneeler out there, and the other torture instruments, were worse. She made herself think of the kneeler, of what it would be like to be chained to it overnight again, and she found, suddenly, that she could stand the feel of Al's cock in her mouth after all. "Keep thinking of the kneeler," she told herself silently. "Think of the pain in your shins."
She took as much of the cock into her mouth as she could. It prodded the back of her mouth, and she almost retched, but fought down the reflex again. Al was making little grunting sounds, disgusting sounds of rutting pleasure. There was a new strength to the taste of his cock, and she recognized it as the taste she had noticed earlier, only much more intense. He was ready, he was going to come soon. "Oh, God! He's going to come in my mouth!" She almost drew away at the thought. It was a physical-emotional reaction, and she caught herself just as her muscles tightened to make the movement. She had to stay where she was! She had to take this, or she'd be out there again, on that kneeler, or maybe even something worse, if that were possible.
She could tell that he was very close to coming. His cock was trembling and surging with the need, and she felt that he was holding back, keeping things going as long as possible. The memory of what he had said came back into her mind. She would bring him off now, before she lost her nerve, and get this thing over with. Maybe then he would be tired enough to go to sleep and she could sleep too for a while, and not have to do anything until he woke up.
Vicky pulled her mouth back and pursed her lips, drawing them in over the edges of her teeth. She held the cushion of flesh so formed against the head of Al's prick and began to move her head back and forth. She moved slowly at first, and kept the friction light, trying the action to see just what combination of speed and pressure would be right. She was terrified of hurting him, of giving him any excuse to be angry with her.
He seemed to like the action, at least the grunting and groaning became more forceful, and more rapid. She felt the bed pitch a little with his body's writhing, and she knew she was on the right track. She tightened her hold on his prick, clamping her teeth just a little, and moved her head faster. Her head was growing painfully tired, and she held it still and started to rock her entire body. The effect was at least as good, and it was much less tiring. Something to remember, she told herself grimly, in her new career.
It was a shock when he came. Vicky had been expecting it, of course, had told herself that it was about to happen, but still it was so different from anything she had ever known that she was as unprepared for it as though the cream had been poured into her mouth while she was asleep. She gagged, her mouth opened and some of the come dripped out and onto Al's belly. His body was going through violent convulsions of pleasure as he cried out in brief, savage-sounding grunts. He came again, and this time she managed to swallow it all. The taste was alkaline and burned her throat. Somehow, she managed to choke it down. The experience left her feeling completely prostituted. She was certain that she would never feel the same again. She was a different person from the proud young woman who had been brought here just hours ago. The session on the kneeler had changed her a lot, and this had finished the job. She would never look out at the world around her through quite the same eyes, even if she managed to escape from this place, and that didn't seem very probable. They had broken something in her, and she wasn't likely to show much fight from this point on, she knew. There wasn't as much worth fighting for as there had been.
She knelt there beside her master of the moment, staring at the sheet on which he was lying, her eyes unfocused. She could still taste his flesh and his come in her mouth, and she didn't think she's ever manage to wash that taste away. She heard his voice with an unusual loudness, as though it had been amplified, and a speaker placed next to her ear. It startled her, and made her jump.
"You're a pig," he said. She looked at him in fear, terrified that he should be angry at her. She had done what he had told her! Why should he be mad at her?
"I ... I don't understand, sir. I ... "
"Look at that." He pointed to the gob of come she had let fall from her mouth. It lay there on his dark skin, mixed with her saliva and his sweat.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll get a rag and ... "
"Lick it up," he ordered quietly.
"I ... I ... Lick it up, sir?"
"You heard me right. Lick it all up. And I don't want to see you leave any."
Vicky looked down at the blob of thick liquid. It looked horrible. She felt revulsion flow through her at the thought of licking it off his sweaty skin, but she still felt the burning in her shins, and she remembered the stiffness of the position she had been chained into for so long. She knew that she would be able to force herself to do whatever he wanted.
Vicky leaned forward, pushing her muscles to do her bidding, and licked the come up from his body. It tasted horrible to her, but she supposed that the taste was mostly in her mind. There was nothing there that she hadn't tasted when she had Frenched him, it was just that now she had seen it. She forced herself to swallow the stuff, although it was hard. She felt her body rebel, and for one moment she was afraid she might vomit on the bed, or on Al. But she hadn't eaten anything in twenty-four hours now, and that, she supposed, was what had saved her. She sat back on her calves and placed her hands on her thighs, in front of her. She waited to see what he would order her to do next.
"That's better," he said. "I told you not to let any of the come get away from you. I may just decide to punish you for that." He looked up at her, and she could see the grin spread itself across his face at the horror his words awoke in her.
"Oh, please, sir," she said, knowing that begging was what he wanted from her now. "Please, don't! I couldn't stand any more of that thing! And it wasn't that I deliberately disobeyed you, sir. It was just that this is new to me. I've never done it before, and I didn't ... I didn't expect ..."
"You didn't expect me to come, when you'd been licking my prick for so long? Are you kid-din'. You really expect me to believe that bullshit?"
"No, it isn't exactly that, sir. It's just that I didn't know when it would happen. That's all. And I didn't know what it would ... " She broke off, unable to say it.
"Go on," Al said. He had folded his hands under his head, looking like a man enjoying himself hugely.
"I didn't know what it would taste like, sir," Vicky managed to say. The words choked her as much as the come had.
He laughed, and she felt herself flush. She had thought that she was unable to flush now, that she wouldn't ever be able to do it again.
"Well, I'll see," he said. "We'll do some more fucking around, Vicky, and if you're a good enough girl, maybe I'll let you get by. And maybe not. I'll just decide, when we're finished here, whether I feel like having you punished or not. I hope that's fair enough, because that's the way it's going to be."
"Yes, sir." She paused, hesitated. "What ... what did you want me to do now, sir?" She had hoped that he would leave her alone for a while, let her rest. Her body ached all over. But his words had filled her with a panicky urge to please him. She had to make him feel great, keep him from wanting to punish her.
"Oh, I don't know. I need some rest now," he said. "I need to gather up my strength for the next bout. I think I'll just stretch out here and get some sleep. You stay awake, though. You just fondle my dong and see if you can't get it to come alive again. Fondle it and lick it. If I wake up, and it's hard, we'll fuck again. How's that?"
"Yes, sir. That's fine, sir." She looked at the big prick, now soft, and not quite as awesome as it had seemed before. He was going to keep her awake, and working, and doing things that would repulse her, until he felt like having sex with her again. Well, she had asked for it, but she hadn't known what else to do. Asking him what to do had seemed the safest course. Her body was sore with tiredness, and her eyelids weighed a pound apiece, but she didn't dare fall asleep. He might wake up and find her not on the job, and then he'd have the perfect excuse to chain her to that thing again.
Vicky slid her knees out from under her, sitting on the bed with her legs curled in front of her body, trying to get more comfortable, and began to play with the big cock. She toyed with it, holding it in one tiny hand and then the other, caressing it, rubbing her thumb over the head, kneading it. Through it all, Al lay there with his eyes closed, occasionally sighing or chuckling with pleasure. The cock stirred from time to time, stiffening a little, but not for long. She began to wonder whether he would take it out on her if she couldn't get it good and stiff. She supposed he would. Perhaps she should work harder at it. But, on the other hand, if he was trying to get some rest now, he might get mad at her if she disturbed him too much. She decided to work on the organ at her present rate. It would get stiff again fairly soon, she was certain. He looked like a man who liked his sex, and he was certainly virile enough. He had practically blown the back of her head off when he had gone off in her mouth.
She choked the thought back in her mind, as she had choked back the come when she had gagged on it. She wouldn't think of that any more. Not now. She'd just do what she had to do, what he had ordered her to do. She fondled the prick, and then bent over and kissed it, touching the tip with her tongue. It was difficult to make herself do that again, but she did it quickly, driving down and grazing the cock with the tip of her tongue, like a swimmer jumping quickly into a cool pool.
The effect on the prick was noticeable. It stood up partially, rearing up from the pad of scrotum on which it had lain, and then softened slowly. She took it in her hand before it had a chance to go slack again, and held it. It was hot, almost uncomfortably hot, to hold in her hand. She glanced away from him, almost overcome by shame and humiliation and disgust, and saw the door. He hadn't locked it when they had come in, she was sure. Why should he? The door that led up from the basement to the rest of the house was enough to keep her down here. And, of course, if she should get past that, she would still be unable to get out of the house, or off the island. It was strange, she thought, to have her rapist go to sleep while she fondled and kissed his cock, so confident that she would stay where she was told. Of course he had every reason for confidence. She would stay, obviously, she would stay for as long as he wanted her to.
She didn't know how long she had been there, licking and caressing his cock, when he finally woke up. She didn't even know whether he had awakened all at once or had been playing with her, to see whether she would do as she had been told. She had strayed over the still, naked body, performing the task that he had appointed. She was agonizingly tired and had been for a long time. She had held her eyes open by sheer force of will, and had continued holding and tasting his cock by just as great an exercise of will, while the softness of the bed mocked her, and called to her like a siren to a sailor. She had thought time and again that it would be worth it to be tortured, just to have whatever time she could get in which to sleep-just a few hours, or even a few minutes. And there was always the chance that she might get away with it, that he might still be asleep when she woke up. She was bound to be tenser than he was and would wake up sooner than he, in all probability.
But no matter how she rationalized, it wasn't worth the risk. If there was no chance in ten that she would end up on that horrid kneeler again, then it was not worth it. And there was a lot more likelihood than that.
His cock began to come to life before he woke up. As the strength returned to him, it stood up, pointing at the canopy over the bed, and she knew that that sensation would wake him soon. And she was right.
He stirred and looked up at her, and grinned and stretched. "Well, now, I see you've been doin' like I told you," he said. "That's a good girl. Now come on up here next to me."
Vicky was grateful for the chance to stretch out. She lay on the bed next to him, and allowed her body to relax. Almost immediately she felt her eyelids droop. Oh, God! She had to fight to stay awake, no matter what. She pulled her eyes open and lay there, while his long, hard body stretched past hers in both directions, and waited to see what he was going to do. Fuck her, she supposed. Well, that would be better than the thing he had expected of her before. At least, she thought, it was less degrading.
He rolled over and placed a hand on her breasts. It was hot and heavy and strong, and she sucked in a lungful of breath at the surprise of the touch. She lay stiff and still, waiting for him to continue. He grinned down at her and squeezed the tit. He squeezed it lightly once, and then he squeezed it again, gradually tightening his hold until it began to feel painful. Vicky kept the smile on her face as long as she could, freezing it there, forcing herself to remain quiet and passive while his hand tightened, and his powerful fingers dug into her flesh.
He laughed, tightened his hold even more, and finally she couldn't keep her face frozen in that idiotic smile any longer. She bit her lip, and managed to stay still for a moment more. Then she began to roll her head. She could feel fresh sweat break out on her, and she began to make little sounds of pain in her throat. Her eyes fell on his cock, and she saw that it was huge and hard, standing away from his body like a steel rod. He was excited, she thought with terror. Inflicting pain on her like this turned him on, the way gentle love play might turn on another man.
She cried out as the pain increased, and finally Al let go of the tit. He looked as though he had turned himself on to such an extent that he was desperate to get into her.
She had a moment's thought that he might decide to have her French him again, but he moved over her, his huge body enveloping hers. His cock was between her legs for a moment, and she felt excitement at the touch of it there.
Then Al raised his hips. She could feel the heat of him there, and his body pressed against hers in other parts, driving her into the bed. She could feel him centering the cock on her snatch, and then he pushed into her.
He was so big, she thought he would tear her for a moment. She had never had a cock like this in her, and even as it caused her pain, she felt the fever of desire and pleasure fill her. She bit her lip, and her arms snaked about Al's neck. She knew that she was going to be disgusted with herself later for this, too. Allowing herself to turn on at the ministrations of a rapist! But she knew too that this was a blessing, something that would help her get through this without doing anything to make Al mad.
Vicky let the pleasure, and the desire, wash through her. It overcame the disgust readily. She knew that her body, tired and wracked with pain, was crying out for the pleasure that she was about to receive. She knew that it was something she needed now, psychologically, and she let the need take over.
His cock shoved into her, impossibly deep, impossibly thick and hard. She cried out at the joyful feeling. Her skin prickled, and she felt her heart explode into a fantastic motion in her breast. She held him to her, clamping her arms about his neck and grasping him with all her strength. It was good! So good!
His body pumped over hers, driving the prick into her with incredible force, fucking her for all he was worth. Vicky cried out with pleasure, as she had cried out with pain a moment before. The pleasure was intense, filling her, running through her like warm liquid, and she could feel a climax coming. She held him all the tighter, his wonderful, hard body, and the pleasure burst in her like a nova, filling her with the orgasm she needed. It wasn't the main event, she knew, but it wasn't bad, just the same. She had gone the whole way on orgasms no more powerful than this one, and she knew there was better coming.
She rode the crest of the wave of pleasure, listening to her own vocalized breath, the little sighs that were almost moans of delight. She let the pleasure carry her along, rising and falling like a ride of sensation flowing through her. Above her, Al was thrusting himself into her with greater force as the pleasure gripped him too. He was holding onto her shoulders with his hands, in such a strong grip that the fingers bit into her flesh painfully, but she hardly noticed the pain. The pleasure drove everything else away from her consciousness. She wallowed in it, buried and immersed herself in it. It was the most intense thing she had ever felt, except for the pain of a few hours ago and it was overwhelming. It was almost too powerful, too intense. It bit into her vitals like pain, sending her up into the highest reaches of ecstasy, wringing cries of pure delight from her.
Then the real climax hit, and she could tell that Al was nearing his too. The pleasure rose higher than the sky; it seemed endless, infinite. She cried out loudly with it, almost screaming, just as his come flooded into her, boiling hotly through her body, and she knew that she was holding him to her with all her strength. Her arms gripped him, and her legs spread wider, as though she could hold onto the pleasure for a longer time by making herself wider for him.
Al grunted tightly, and then almost roared as the last shot of his come spurted into her. Vicky felt her entire body go taut with pleasure, and then it was over.
She lay beside him, trying not to think. It had been good, she thought dully. She hated herself for liking it so much. How could she have enjoyed being raped this way, by a man she didn't even know?
She stared at the canopy over the bed and listened to his breathing next to her. The breathing evened out, and she was certain he had gone to sleep. She wondered if he would mind if she went to sleep too. She didn't know what he wanted of her now, he hadn't told her. Surely he couldn't blame her for getting some sleep now, when he hadn't told her not to. Of course she knew that he would blame her if he chose, but now she didn't care. She didn't care about anything but sleep. She wanted to be unconscious for a while, out of things, away from the shame, the humiliation and the guilt that she felt.
She rolled onto her side, facing away from her owner, and closed her eyes ...
Chapter 6
Housework had always been an annoyance to Keller. While his wife was alive, she had kept the island house sealed up most of the time, and had hired servants to clean it up when they were going to use it. Now that he was living here during the summer, he had been forced to do the cleaning himself.
But it wouldn't be necessary any longer. The night after Victoria Young joined their harem, he asked Milt to bring the two girls up from their cells. He assigned them both jobs around the house. The jobs were enough to keep the two of them busy, because the house was a big one, and certainly the men weren't going to do any of the work. They stood in front of him, naked and obviously afraid of him, and listened to the tasks he had for them.
"If either of you messes up, or doesn't get her work done, we'll have suitable punishment for you. Understand?"
They both understood.
"Fine. Now get to work. I don't care in what order you choose to do the jobs, just so they're all done, and so we have our meals on time." He thought for a moment. "One of us will supervise you when you prepare a meal. Always. Is that clear?"
It was clear.
"Fine. Now get to work."
He watched them scurry off, and he felt a touch of amusement at the haste with which they set about their jobs. They were anxious about doing things right, of course. He thought of the big words they had come up with when they had been brought here, especially little Vicky. She had been so defiant then. But now she was more eager to please her masters than Arlene.
He hadn't had a chance to get into Vicky yet. She had spent her first night on the kneeler, and then she had gone with Al. After Al was through with her, and she had been broken, she hadn't been worth touching. He had let her get a night's sleep. But now she was already looking good. Youth, he thought. Springiness. Even after a torture session like that, a night's sleep and a meal had been enough to make her pretty again. She had the ugly welts on her shins, but they were already fading.
He walked into the hallway in time to see her naked, plump ass moving up the stairs, clenching and dimpling with each step. She would be good, he thought. When she had a free moment, he would take advantage of it.
Why wait? The thought hit him suddenly. What the hell? If she had to work a little late, that was her misfortune. Why shouldn't he get some enjoyment out of her right now?
Keller wondered whether he had unconsciously intended this when he had assigned her to work on the upstairs, where the bedrooms were. It was possible. At any rate, it had been a fortunate choice.
He saw Vicky turn into the first bedroom, still hurrying. He walked up to the door and stood for a moment, letting the excitement build in him. She was in there, in that bedroom, the bedroom in which Roger had slept the previous night, and she was naked. She was naked for him.
He pushed the door open and walked in. She was working with feverish speed, making up the bed. When she heard the door open, she turned and faced it, and he saw fear in her eyes. So they had really put the fear of God into this one. Good. Good for them all, including her.
"Yes, sir?" she asked, looking at him from across the room. Her head was bowed humbly, and she had to roll her eyes upward to regard him.
"I just thought I'd come up and see how you're doing with your tasks, dear," he said.
"Yes, sir." She stood nervously, as though not quite certain whether she should continue with her work. She looked as though she were becoming more frightened with each passing moment. She probably thought he had come up to see if he could find some reason to punish her. He smiled coldly at her.
"I think you'd better get back to work, Vicky," he said. "You wouldn't want to fall behind, would you?"
"No, sir. Of course not." She turned back to the bed, pulling the heavy covers down in preparation for making it up.
"Fresh sheets," Keller said.
"Sir?" She stood up straight and looked at him politely.
"Fresh sheets on each bed every day, Vicky. You'll find them in the hall linen closet. Two doors down."
"Oh. Yes, sir." She trotted out into the hall. A few minutes later she was back, her arms full of linen. She stripped the pillow slips away from the pillows and pulled the sheets off the bed. Then she got busy with the fresh things, covering the pillows and stretching the bottom contour sheets over the mattress.
She was obviously nervous as a cat. Turning her back to him and bending over the bed was something that took a good deal of will power. Keller stood and watched her with amusement. He knew she had begun to realize what he wanted. When the sheet was on the bed, he walked up behind her. She was still bent over, smoothing it. When she felt him standing so close, she froze. Keller placed his hands on her hips. Her skin was smooth and soft, her flesh firm and young and healthy. He let his hands slide over the cheeks of her ass, and she shivered. He wasn't sure whether the shiver was caused by unwelcome desire, or by fear. Or disgust. He really didn't care. He knew what he was feeling at this moment, and that was all that mattered. He was in charge of this place, and in charge of her.
He slid his hands forward, letting his hands glide around her hips, until his fingers touched the bristly heat of her pussy. She shivered again, and stood very, very still.
Keller removed one hand and opened his belt, and then the top button of his pants. When he slid the zipper down, his pants drooped around his ankles. Impatiently, he shoved his shorts down past his hips and let them drop too. It wasn't easy to make them drop, because his cock, as stiff and hard as iron, was holding them in place. But when the shorts fell, his cock nudged the back of Vicky's thigh, and she started in surprise. He laughed.
"Now, just hold still, baby," he said, his voice tight with passion. "Just you hold still and let me take care of things."
He shoved his knee between her legs and nudged them apart. She didn't seem to know what he wanted at first, but when she caught on, she spread her legs quickly, setting her feet wide on the thick carpet. He had to wonder all over again at the way that session on the kneeler had made a believer out of her. That was going to be a very useful device to have around.
Now that she had made room for him, he moved up behind her, holding his cock in one hand while the other rested on her hip, holding her still. He threaded his prick between her thighs, ramming his hips forward, until he found her slit. She jerked a little at the contact, then held herself still.
The angle of her body wasn't quite right. He slipped his hand up from her hip to her back and pressed until she bent over farther, resting her breasts on the top of the bed. Now the slit was better positioned to receive him.
Keller slipped himself into the cunt, and stood there for a moment, enjoying the connection of their bodies. Then he started to fuck her, lightly at first, sliding the cock into her slowly, and withdrawing it slowly. She began to moan with pleasure or some other reaction, he didn't know which. At the moment he really didn't care. It was enough to be in her, to be feeling the physical pleasure of fucking her, and to know that he was getting some kind of reaction, some emotional response from this girl.
His prick swelled in her, grew larger than it had been before, and he could tell from her reaction that she was aware of the difference. That was when he became sure that at least part of her reaction was one of pleasure.
He thrust into her with greater force, driving the prick into her like a sword, and she moaned more loudly. She was swelling too, growing around him, and becoming more and more moist with each passing second. He had turned her on. He placed both hands on her hips, with his fingers curling around the front, and his thumbs pressing on the cheeks of her ass.
With that grasp, Keller was able to increase the force and tempo of the fucking, to drive into her more quickly and more forcefully. He shoved and pulled and shoved again, until the pleasure of his own body was mounting to the heights and then he gave it all he had, driving himself on with greater and greater force and speed.
Vicky began to cry out with pleasure, and he knew that she was either approaching a climax or going through a minor one. Her arms, resting on the bed, were like two slender cables, so tautened were they. She was clenching her fists and gripping the sheet with sweat-drenched fingers. Her hair, a golden halo, was spilled across the bed. Keller summoned energy and quickened his pace again, driving in like a high-speed jack-hammer. She cried out again, and then his own climax came over him with tremendous force. His come shot into her, and he grunted once, twice, three times, and the come shot again. Keller knew that he was in the throes of a big powerful climax, and then he shoved into her one last time, and it was over.
He pulled out of her and stepped back. Vicky remained in position, and now he saw that it was a funny one, with her ass thrust into the air like that, and her legs spread apart. He looked at her and laughed. She straightened up jerkily, fighting the stiffness which the position had brought to her spine.
"You can go to work now, Vicky," he said. When she started to smooth the sheet, he barked, "Not that one, stupid!" and kicked her in the ass. She sprawled onto the bed, and he could see her body tense for the effort of rising to attack him. It was an unconscious reaction, and she stifled it immediately. She lay there for a moment, and then pulled herself up again. She turned to face him, keeping her eyes lowered humbly.
"I don't understand, sir."
"Not that sheet. You've been sweating all over it. You can't expect Roger to sleep on a sheet like that, you little tramp. Get a fresh one. And throw this one into the hamper. You can wash it later."
"Yes, sir." She turned back to the bed and began to strip the sheet off. Keller chuckled, letting her hear the sound of his laughter, and walked out of the bedroom.
Out in the hall, he looked at his watch. It was late enough for a drink, he decided, especially on a day of celebration. And having that little minx here was worth celebrating. She was a naturally good lay, and she was still possessed of enough spirit so that it irked her to knuckle under. Of course that would make it all the more fun to torture her, to try to drive her over the ragged edge, and make her give one of them some lip. And then, he thought, then it would be back to the kneeler, or some other device that would be just as much fun for them, and no more fun for her ...
* * *
Roger walked into the bedroom about noon, not knowing what he had in mind. He was just walking around, letting his mind wander with his feet, and he turned into the room he had been using.
The new girl was there, Vicky. She was finishing cleaning the room when he entered. She came bolt upright when he walked into the room, like a deer just become aware of the presence of a hunter. Roger laughed and walked over to her. She stood there, quivering with terror. "What are you doing in here?" he asked.
"Sir, Professor Keller ordered me to clean this room. I was just finishing up. I didn't mean to interfere with your use of the room, sir. I'll get on to my next job."
She started past him, but only halfheartedly, as though she expected him to stop her. Roger placed a hand against her bare breasts and halted her movement. She stood there, not looking at him. "Now, how could you interfere with my use of this room when you're the reason for my using it?" he asked. She knew what he meant. She licked her lips, and didn't say anything. Roger felt the pleasure of power. He was in command of this girl, and there wasn't anything she wouldn't do if he told her to. It was an intoxicating situation, and he had no desire to hurry things up.
He walked past her to the bed, sat on it, bounced once. "Keller assigned you some jobs, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. An idle mind is the devil's workshop, you know."
"Yes, sir," she said stupidly. She looked as though she didn't know quite what to say to him."
"Maybe I can keep you busy for the next few minutes, anyway. My little contribution to things." He laughed, unable to contain the delight he felt. It had been worth it, he thought. He had had his doubts for a while, when all the planning, and all the risks were more immediate, and the goal seemed like something far away -a dream. But this was real. This quivering bit of beautiful flesh was as real as anything could be. "Come here," he said. Vicky hesitated for just an instant, then came forward resolutely. He could tell that she was driving herself toward him. She wanted to run away, to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. But she moved toward him on legs that were almost stiff with effort, and with tension. She stopped a foot away from him. "Come on," he said. She came forward another step, placing herself so close to him that her legs were between his spread knees. Roger felt his prick, so stiff it was painful. He ran his fingertips up the outside of one silken thigh. She shivered from the tickling touch, but she didn't dare draw away from it. She felt great, he thought. Maybe a little better than Arlene. No, that was just his imagination. She was a young girl, sweet and tender, just like Arlene. She happened to be the one who was available at the moment, so she seemed better. That was all. But one thing was certain: she did feel great.
He looked at her snatch, a golden triangle inches from his face. He saw her tremble as he looked at it, saw her draw into herself with humiliation. Roger reached forward and tugged playfully at the snatch of hair. It must have been a little painful, because she winced. He chuckled and ran his hand flatly over her pussy and up over the smooth belly. She trembled, and he heard her gasp, but that was all.
"Kneel down here," he said. He looked up at her face just as he said it, and he could tell that she knew what he wanted. She stood there for a moment, her hands working nervously, then she took a half step backward and went down on her knees, placing her hands on his thighs for support. She was probably still sore in the shins, he thought, and didn't want to go down on them too hard. He looked down at her face. "Unzip my fly," he ordered. Tiny hands moved tremblingly toward his zipper, and she pulled it down. His cock bulged the white of his shorts out through the open fly. "Open the top button now," he said. She struggled with his belt, got it open, and the pants fell aside. She looked at him with a kind of blankness in her eyes, as though she were keeping her mind unfocused.
Roger stood up and let his pants drop about his ankles. "Pull down my shorts, baby," he said. She reached up and hooked her fingers in the elastic. She pulled the garment down past his hips slowly. Finally, it dropped around his ankles, with his pants.
His cock and balls were bare now, a stiffened rod and a tightened scrotum wreathed with bristliness. He looked at her for a moment and then sat on the edge of the bed again. The spread felt cool under his bare ass. His cock was stiff and hard, and he could feel a tinge of pleasure already as the blood coursed through it.
"You know what I want you to do?" he asked. She nodded mutely. "Speak up!" he ordered.
"Yes, sir," she said shakily.
"Good. You have any objections to doing it for me?"
"I ... no, sir."
"That's a smart girl." Roger reached forward and ruffled her blonde hair, as though she were a bright child. "Well," he said, "you may as well get started, baby." He was getting horny as hell now. The pleasure of being in command was still strong in him, but it was taking a back seat to the need he felt, the need that was burning and clawing through his loins. He looked down at her, and her gaze wavered.
"Yes, sir," she said, and he knew the words were just a stall, a one-second delay of the inevitable. Then she took his cock in her hands. The touch of her fingers, cool and soft, against the tender skin of the organ, almost made him come right then. He stifled the urge and grunted a sound of urgency, hurrying her on her way.
Vicky leaned forward and touched the tip of the cock with the end of her tongue. The damp sweetness of the tongue brought another twisting to his loins, and he slapped her on the side of the head angrily.
"Get with it, goddamn it!"
She didn't pause to acknowledge the order. She leaned forward, taking the cock in her mouth, and began to move her tongue over it frantically. The sensations washed through Roger as her tongue washed over his prick, and he felt himself reaching the zenith quickly. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. He was too excited. There would be plenty of other times, he thought, times when he would be in better control of himself. He turned himself over to the pleasure, let it take command, and his come flooded into Vicky's mouth hotly, running over a little, so that he could see it in the space between her lips. Her throat and tongue worked fast and hard to swallow the stuff, and she managed to get it down. Roger's body jerked with passion, with fulfilled desire, and his cock throbbed one last time as he hit the climax. His hands tightened on the sides of her head, holding her there, and then his cock went flaccid in her mouth.
She held it there for a moment longer and then sat back on her heels, letting the organ drop free. Roger stood and pulled his pants and shorts up. "That was very nice, Vicky," he said. "You must be a natural born cocksucker."
"Yes, sir," she said, and he had the annoying feeling that the deliberate insult hadn't gotten through to her. She sounded as though she hadn't even heard what he had said. He jabbed her in the belly with his toe, hard enough to hurt. She gasped and looked up at him in surprise and wonder.
"Get your ass out of the way," he said. When she had moved back, he walked to the door, turned and looked at her. She was still kneeling there, crying softly. Roger laughed. "If I were you, honey, I'd get back to work. I don't think Keller is the kind of guy who would figure in crying breaks when he assigned jobs."
Chapter 7
It was an exciting game, Keller thought. A game of wits and skill against the rest of society, with the stakes high for him and his companions, and high also for those members of society who were concerned. It was the kind of excitement he had craved all his life.
The newspapers had pieces on the two girls. First there was the one on Arlene, on the front page, but down at the bottom. There was a picture of her, the one from the college yearbook. The article was fairly short, just stating that Miss Arlene Landis had disappeared while on a date, and that her escort's body had been found, etc.
The second one, on Vicky, was longer, with a bigger spread. It came out on a quiet day, when the papers, looking for something to print, had probably considered the second disappearance a blessing. They ran pictures of Vicky and of her family, and they had an interview with her parents. Her father said that he would pay anything and he begged whoever had abducted her to send her home unharmed. Keller had to laugh at the poor boob-all those years raising and educating a girl, and here she was, a whore for men in a house on an island.
They still needed girls; there were cells in the basement for nine, and he had intended a turnover all along. The chase was almost the best part of the game and bringing a new girl to the house and teaching her her place-well, he thought, that was the best part.
He met with the others one evening when the girls were locked up.
"I think it's time we went for another girl," he said.
"You've got to be kidding," Roger said. "You saw that newspaper article, the one about Vicky. It said right there that it was the second time in a couple of weeks that a young girl had disappeared, and her date murdered. We don't dare go after another one right now. If we did, we'd be caught for sure. They must be patrolling the streets with extra cops by now."
"I doubt that," Keller said. "And anyway, I don't see any reason why we should always take the girls off streets. We want to vary our routine. That's important. We don't want to give the police a fixed routine to learn."
"That's right," Al said. "And I think we ought to strike right now, when they're still wondering if there's a connection."
Keller looked at the man in surprise. He hadn't expected support this early in the discussion. He could see in Al's eyes the same thing he felt when he thought of the abduction of a girl. It was the hunt with him, too, that was the spice of the whole thing.
"You too, Al?" Roger asked in surprise. "I must be the only coward in the place. What do you think, Milt?"
"Gee, I don't know," Milt said. "I'll just go along with whatever you guys decide." Roger looked at him with disgust.
"I've taken the liberty of making another tentative selection," Keller said. "I hope you gentlemen don't mind?"
"Suits me," Al said. "I've got no complaint about the women you've picked so far."
"I'll hold my judgment in abeyance," Roger said, "until I know what you've got in mind."
"The girl I'm thinking of is Cheryl Walsh." He looked at them, and saw the quickening of interest, even in Roger's eyes.
"What's the plan?" Al asked.
"She's in a play, you know," Keller said.
"Shit, she's always in a play."
"Yes, well, I think this will be her last. Her curtain call, if you please."
"Yeah, but what's the plan?" Roger seconded.
"This play is being performed on campus, as part of the drama department's summer session. Cheryl has the lead."
"Cheryl's always got the fucking lead," Al said.
Cheryl Walsh was another of the prettiest girls, another homecoming princess, and the darling of the drama department. She had come to the school the year before, and had been in five plays since. She was so beautiful that a director, whether a member of the faculty or another student, couldn't resist giving her any part she wanted. And when she had the part, she always did a creditable job. She was a pretty good actress, and there were even rumors that she was being scouted by the studios.
"It's an original play by one of the students," Keller went on, talking in a low, taut voice to keep their interest up. "And this is what we're going to do ... "
The play was being performed in the main theater in the drama building, on a Friday night. It was an avant-garde production, with fancy electronic sounds and strobe light shows between the acts, and slides and films projected on the screen behind the actors during the play.
They let it go until the third act. Cheryl was in the middle of the stage, performing away, emoting like crazy, when the lights went out. The audience sat quite still for a long time, thinking it was just another of the effects to which they had been subjected for the past hour and a half.
Keller got up and left the auditorium. He had made sure to get a seat next to the door, so he could get out quickly. The exit lights were out along with all the others, and he just pushed the door open and left.
There were some students in the hall, but they didn't even look at him. Keller hurried out and around the building at a trot. He stopped by the rear entrance, on the opposite side of the building from the one most of the actors used. From the parking lot he heard the sound of an engine purring into life. That would be Roger, of course ...
Al held the flashlight low, so that when he turned it on the beam would be pointing at the floor in front of him. He looked at the luminous dial of his watch and waited. It only took a few seconds. The actors were just starting to get twitchy when the crackling sound started. It was loud, magnified by the loudspeakers and the amplifiers which drove them. It took a moment for the sound to register, and then a woman screamed, and a man yelled, "Fire! Oh, Jesus, fire!" And then the stampede began. They all headed for the doors, but with the exit lights out, and the auditorium in total darkness, the stampede turned into a trampling as people fell over each other and trampled them, and the screams made everyone all the more panicky. The actors started off the stage to the left so that Al was unopposed when he switched on the flashlight and, holding it low, started onto the stage from the right.
He saw her right away when he lifted the light. She was standing there in the bikini that served as her costume, looking around dumbly. The heavy stage makeup wasn't pretty up close but, for some reason, it seemed exciting. Al's prick was starting to get hard. Later, boy, later, he thought.
"This way, Miss Walsh," he said. She was still dumbfounded, and she looked up at him strangely for a moment. "This way, please," he said, injecting a little urgency into his tone. "It's the safest way."
The Prof had been right. His psychological testing of her had been accurate enough. She followed Al docilely, apparently glad to have someone to make her decisions.
Al led her out quickly, not giving her time to think. He didn't touch her, just held the light where she could see it. Physical contact might shock her into awareness of what she was doing, following a stranger out of the building. But she didn't seem to think about that. She was glad to have a way out.
The Prof was right there beside the door, as he had said he would be. He had his hand behind him, with the hypo all ready for use. Cheryl walked past him without a glance, and the hypo came into view. The bikini didn't offer any resistance to the needle which sank into her ass easily. She let out a little yelp and turned to look at them. She gave them a look of reproach, as though she had had time to realize that they meant her no good, but not enough time to get scared. The car pulled up with Roger behind the wheel. He pulled the little doohickey he had had installed under the dash, and the trunk popped open just as Cheryl went out like a light.
Al was ready for her. He had her stuffed into the trunk, and the lid shut, in an instant. The Prof was getting into the car by then, and Milt was coming around the corner, puffing with exertion as he carried the tape he had played over the amplifiers, running for the car as fast as his legs could carry his overweight frame. Al got in beside the Prof just as Milt ran around and jumped in the front, beside Roger. The car roared and took off fast, and Al heard the clanging of a fire alarm somewhere in the building. But the fire was there on the seat next to Milt, on the reel of tape, but that was erased now, according to plan.
"Did you get her?" Milt asked.
"You bet your sweet ass we got her," Al said, and laughed. Then they were all laughing as the car headed off the campus and nosed into traffic. The fire department would come, and the fuzz, and they'd all stand around with their fingers up their asses, wondering what the fuck had happened. By the time anyone, anywhere, realized that Cheryl Walsh was missing, the car, and the precious cargo in the trunk, would be home.
* * *
Winning the draw made Milt a little nervous. He had only taken the other girls when they had been gentled down by at least one other member. And Cheryl Walsh was the stuck-up type. She turned her nose up at guys, and had only dated the big men on campus. More than once Milt had seen her in some hallway and had tried to say hello, and had been snubbed by her. Of course the advantage of bringing a girl here was that she wasn't in any position to snub anyone any more. But she probably didn't know that yet.
He went down to the basement about the time she should be waking up. The intercom had been making funny sounds for a while, like someone breathing unevenly and sighing, and he figured that Cheryl was about to regain consciousness.
She was lying in her cell, wearing the red bikini she had had on when they had snatched her. It had been pushed a little awry while she was sleeping, and a wisp of red hair showed around her panties. One pink nipple had been liberated from the bra, and it peeked at him. He felt his cock go hard all at once when he saw her like that.
Her eyes fluttered and she glanced at him, then started to turn over and go back to sleep. The stuff probably hadn't completely worn off yet.
Then she sat upright all of a sudden. Her makeup had been washed off when she had been brought here, just to make sure it didn't hurt her skin. She didn't need any makeup, Milt thought. She was really beautiful. He didn't suppose she was really any more beautiful than the other two, but she was his favorite, or would be when she had learned her place.
The thought washed over him warmly. Learned her place. She was his property, really, and the other guys' property too, of course. She sat there looking at Milt for a moment, and then she looked around her cell, at the cot she was lying on, and the wash basin and toilet in the corner.
"My God," she said, and then noticed that she was hanging out of her bikini. She stuffed her tit back in and Milt grinned at her. It seemed like a waste of effort for her to shove herself back into her bathing suit when she was going to be losing the whole suit in a moment.
She looked straight at Milt. Her eyes fastened on him, and she stared at him until he became uncomfortable. "Where am I?" she asked. "What is this place?"
"Just a house," Milt said. His voice cracked from nervousness, and he cleared his throat nervously. Cheryl looked at him more closely than before.
"I know you," she said accusingly. "You go to the college."
"That's right," he said. "The same college you used to go to."
She got it all right. One hand went to her throat, and she stared at him for a moment before she asked, "What do you mean, I used to go to college?"
"You won't be going any more, Cheryl. You have a new career here."
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but you can't expect to get away with this. When I get away from here ..."
"You won't," Milt said. A lot of his nervousness was disappearing. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
"I won't what?" He could tell from her manner, and the tone of her voice, that she had a very good idea of what he had meant.
"You won't get out of here," he said. "Not alive, anyway. This is your home, Cheryl. From now on, this is where you live. That little cell is your room. This house is your prison. This is where you stay, Cheryl."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," she said, but there was no conviction in her voice. Milt chuckled.
"O.K., baby. I'll remember that you said not to be too sure of it. In the meantime ... " He stopped as he noticed her looking past him, staring at something intently. He looked around and followed her gaze to the two cells, diagonally across from hers, containing Arlene and Vicky. The two girls were lying on their cots, and apparently it had taken Cheryl this long to notice them. Milt laughed again. "You see, we've been getting away with this sort of thing right along, so it doesn't really make any sense for you to say we can't get away with kidnapping you."
"My God, you're a fiend," she breathed. Her eyes were wide as saucers.
"That's right," Milt said. "Now, I want you to do me a little favor. And if you won't do it, then I'll have to show you just how fiendish I can be."
"What?"
"I want you to take off your bathing suit." He giggled, unable to hold in the delight any longer. Cheryl set her jaw.
"Not on your life, pudgy."
Milt felt a flood of anger run through him. "You're going to be sorry for that little remark," he said.
"Maybe so, but it still goes. You're disgusting. And without your clothes, you must look like a white whale." She was deliberately trying to break him down, he thought. Well, she was asking for trouble, and he was going to give it to her. He stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting and showed her the keys.
"If you won't take off your bathing suit," he said, "then I'll have to come in and take it off for you."
"Come on and try," she replied. She was still sitting on the cot. Now she stood up and backed away from the door. "I'm not afraid of you. If you were a real man, I might be. But I couldn't look myself in the eye if I let myself be scared of a ball of lard like you."
"You're asking for this!" Milt shouted. He started to the door of the cell, then stopped and started to undress. "I want to be ready for the proceedings as soon as I get you stripped down," he said. She looked away from him, as though she couldn't stand the sight. Milt felt a moment's doubt, a moment's loss of confidence. But that was exactly what she wanted. Before he was through with the little bitch, he'd have her telling him he was the handsomest man in the whole fucking world. She'd be begging to suck him off!
He finished stripping, then picked up the keys again, selecting the right one, and walked to the door. "Stay out of here," Cheryl warned. It was a frightened sound, the threat of a cornered animal. It was a real break, coming from her, he thought. He had begun to think she had more guts than the other two girls combined, but now he could see that it was all a front, just bravado.
He opened the cell and walked inside, leaving the keys in the door. Cheryl moved back the last scant inch to the far wall. She watched him closely, warily. Milt moved toward her, keeping himself between her and the cell door. Once she started to move past him, but he managed to get in the way, and she fell back, looking for another opening.
"You want to take off the suit now, Cheryl?" he asked hopefully.
"Drop dead, fatso."
"Okay," he said, and moved in on her. She was quick, and she almost darted past him before he caught her arm and threw her onto the cot. His cock was standing out in front of him like a flagpole and the feel of her nearly naked body against his almost made him come. She fought with the fury of a cat, but he got himself on top of her, placing his weight on her to pin her to the cot.
"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, and kicked and scratched wildly. He felt her nails rake his skin cruelly, and he thought that she was going to be sorry for that, the little cunt. He grabbed for her hands, but she was too quick. Her nails kept raking him, and he was almost trying to draw away from her. Then she managed to squirm out from under him somehow, and when he reached for her, those nails made a rake in the direction of his face. Milt drew back, closing his eyes instinctively, and when he opened them again, she was on the way to the cell door. Milt had slid halfway off the cot, and he had a rough time getting onto his feet again. By the time he was up, she was almost all the way to the door, and before he managed the three steps between the cot and the door, she was swinging the heavy door closed. It shut with a heavy clanging sound.
"Goddamn you, open that door!" he shouted. He could only think of one thing: the other guys would think he was an asshole if they found out about this. Then he remembered the intercom between the basement and the upstairs, and he wondered if they were listening.
She didn't even bother to answer his order. She threw him a contemptuous look, laughed, and started for the other two cells. With Milt's set of keys, she opened Vicky's first.
"Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here, while we have the boob over there caged." Sitting up in bed, Vicky looked at her, but she didn't make any effort to move toward the door of her cell. On the contrary, she shrank back. "Well, come on," Cheryl urged. "What's the matter with you? Are you paralyzed?"
Vicky still said nothing. Cheryl walked into the cell and grabbed the naked girl's arm. She shook her, and tried to pull her off the cot, but Vicky pulled loose and ran to the far wall. She stared at Cheryl with wide eyes, terror-struck. Cheryl looked back at her for a moment, then shrugged. "All right, the hell with you," she said. "If you like it here, then stay." She left the cell and headed for Arlene's. She opened the door and ran inside. "Now, you're not going to refuse to leave too, are you?"
Arlene backed into the corner, just as Vicky had done.
"Well, you two are a couple of idiots," Cheryl said. She left the cell and headed for the nearest of the wooden doors. It was one of the bedrooms, and she turned a little white when she saw it. As she turned away, she seemed to notice the torture implements for the first time, and she became absolutely ashen. She looked around her, and her eyes fastened on the one door that was a different color from all the others. She headed for it and tried the knob.
"Let me out of here," Milt said. "You'll be sorry if you don't."
"Drop dead," Cheryl shot back. She was going through the keys. She finally found the right one and opened the doors.
A fist shot in, a big, black fist, and clipped her on the chin. It wasn't exactly a smashing blow, but it was smartly delivered, and accurately, too. Cheryl dropped the key ring and fell back a step. Al Johnson walked in, and behind him was the Prof. Roger brought up the rear. He closed the door behind him and picked up the keys.
Cheryl regained her senses a little, but she panicked and tried for the door. Al laughed and caught her around the waist.
"You don't want to go out there, honey," he said. "You'd be all alone out there." He threw her into the arms of Roger, who caught her and tossed her toward the middle of the room. She was crying now, and her suit had started to go askew again. More pubic hair was visible, and that same breast was starting to work its way into view again.
"You bastards!" she screamed, and then she saw the Prof and stopped cold. "Professor Keller," she said. "Professor, you've got to help me ... " The laughter that greeted her words cut her off.
"I would hardly be the person to help you get out of here," Keller said, "since I was one of the men who helped you get in in the first place." He walked toward her, and she backed away.
"Hey, will one of you guys let me out of here?" Milt demanded angrily. They all looked at him, and Roger came forward. He could see that they were all fighting to keep from laughing at him.
Roger opened the door of the cell, and Milt came out. "She got away from me," he said lamely. The Prof looked amused, and so did the others, though he could tell that they were trying to keep from showing their amusement for the sake of discipline. To cover up, the Prof walked over to Vicky's cage.
"You didn't try to escape with her, Vicky," he said.
"No, sir." She seemed almost pathetically eager to have their understanding. "No, sir, I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't ... "
"But on the other hand," the Prof said, interrupting her, "you didn't lay hands on her, either. You didn't try to grab her. You didn't try to stop her. Did you?"
Vicky looked terrified, suddenly, and Milt shot a look at Arlene. She looked equally frightened. She hadn't done anything to keep Cheryl from escaping either.
"But I knew she couldn't get away, sir," Vicky said desperately. "I knew you wouldn't let her out of this room, and even if she got upstairs, she couldn't possibly get off the island. That's why I ... "
"I'm not interested in your excuses," the Prof said. "We'll discuss what to do about it later. That goes for you, too, Arlene."
"Yes, sir," Arlene said. She looked frightened, but resignedly so, as though she had accepted her fate and knew that she was going to be punished. She could only add to the punishment by objecting. She walked back to her cot and sat down, looking dejected.
"Now," the Prof said, returning his attention to the new girl, "before you committed the crime of disobeying, Milt gave you a direct order. It seems like a perfectly sensible order to me. In fact, if I may say so, it seems like a delightful order. And I think I may say so." He laughed, and the other guys all joined in. Milt joined in, too. He was starting to get over the humiliation, and he was getting excited again.
But Cheryl just looked at him without speaking. She looked scared as hell, but she also seemed defiant. Milt had to admit that she was gutty as catshit, but at the same time he couldn't help thinking that she was being pretty dumb. It was like Vicky all over again, only she seemed to have more guts than Vicky had had. And that meant that she was going to smart more than Vicky had.
"I don't usually give second chances," the Prof said. "We don't, I should say. I gave you a second chance to obey that order. Now you're going to have to pay for your insubordination, young lady, as well as the insubordination you showed in your treatment of one of the members of this group." That made Milt a little embarrassed again, but only for a moment. The other guys kept their eyes on Cheryl, and he could see that the Prof meant it, and the others were behind him. They were going to punish Cheryl for the way she had acted toward him. The club was really all for one, he thought, and one for all.
"Milt," the Prof said, "do you still want to lay this little cunt? Before we undertake her punishment, that is?"
"Huh?" Milt's blood was pounding in his head. He had never been so horny in his life. "Sure," he said. "Why not?" He had thought that he would have to take his horniness out on one of the other girls while they attended to the job of breaking Cheryl.
"All right, let's see if we can't do something to help Milt out, gentlemen."
Al and Roger moved to flank Cheryl, and the Prof, directly in front of her, moved closer. She looked at them, and her eyes widened. She started to back away. Al and Roger moved with her, on either side, and the Prof moved in some more. She took another backward step, and they all closed in a little more.
"Stay away from me," she said, and the tone of her voice was funny, sort of halfway between a warning and a plea. They all closed in again. She backed away again, and then again, and pretty soon she was against the wall. She looked like a caged squirrel standing there, with her eyes bulging out, as she looked at each of the three men in turn. Milt felt his cock stand up harder than ever. Her fear was exciting.
They weren't more than four feet from her now, and it was obvious that they could close in on her any time they chose. They were toying with her, holding themselves at bay to emphasize her helplessness.
But then she made a break, a quick run that caught Roger by surprise. He grunted and made a grab for her. He managed to grab some hair, but it slipped through his hands, and she was past him. There was no way in Christ's world for her to get out of the basement, but it was annoying to have her running all over the place when she seemed caught.
She ran past Vicky's cell, and suddenly Vicky stepped out and held one foot forward, about three inches off the floor. Cheryl tripped and went down on the floor with a jar that was almost painful to Milt. She tried to get to her feet again, but Vicky was on her, holding her there until Roger came. Then she jumped up and ran back into her cell.
"I'm sorry I left my cell without permission, sir," she said to Keller. He chuckled.
"That's all right, my dear. We'll overlook that little infraction, since you committed it for the best of purposes. And we'll even knock something off that punishment I promised you earlier."
Vicky looked disappointed for a moment. She had probably expected to be let off entirely. But she covered up her feelings quickly and smiled. "Thank you, sir." She knew she'd better settle for what was offered.
"Now," the Prof said, "set little Cheryl on her feet, gentlemen. Milt, I should think, will want to unwrap the merchandise himself, since she wouldn't do it for him."
"You dirty bitch!" Cheryl hissed at Vicky. "I'll pay you back for that, goddamn you!" Vicky just smiled at her with obvious satisfaction.
Milt walked up to Cheryl. She aimed a kick at him, and he barely avoided it. Al swore at her and managed to snake a long leg around one of her legs. She tried to kick with the other leg, and almost fell on her ass. Then Roger managed to capture that leg in the same way that Al had, and she was helpless. They were both holding her arms. The bra of her bikini had slipped a little more, and the beginning of one nipple was enticingly visible. She stopped struggling and stood very still as Milt came forward. Then, when he was right in front of her, she spat in his face. The spittle hit his right cheek, just below the eye. He jerked back and wiped at it with his hand. "You little bitch!" he yelled. He felt disgusted, prostituted. Without any conscious volition on his part, his right hand snaked out in a vicious, chopping slap that cracked across her left cheek like a pistol shot. He hit her so hard the blow stung his hand; he even felt the shock of it in his wrist and forearm. Cheryl let out a yelp of surprise. For a moment he thought she was going to start fighting again, but instead she stood looking at him, a little dazed, and very much quieter than before.
"That gentled you down, didn't it, you little cunt?" he said. He felt the intoxication of power again. "Now that you're more cooperative," he said, "we'll see about getting you stripped down for action." He giggled and moved in, bringing his body right up against her. He could feel her breasts nudging at his chest. She looked at him with disgust, but she didn't try any funny stuff this time. She just stood there, her body as rigid as a stick.
Milt circled her with his arm. Her warmth was enough to make a man drunk, he thought. He felt the knot at the back of her bra and pulled it. The little strip of cloth fell away, held in place now only by the pressure of Milt's chest. On a sudden impulse he reached up and took her head in his two hands. He turned her face to his and kissed her long and hard. She let out a yelp just as his mouth found hers, so her mouth was open. He thrust his tongue inside, and let it crawl and slither over hers. She froze for a moment, then started to twist. The other guys let her slip a little bit and then brought her up short again, reminding her that she was helpless. She held still again, enduring his kiss. He could tell that she was using all her willpower to keep from fighting him. He held the kiss for as long as he could, and then stepped back all at once. The bra fell to the floor.
She was already beet-red from the kiss, but now she turned an even deeper shade. Her tits were good ones, firm and sturdy and pink, standing out from her body as though proud of themselves. Milt made a great show of looking at them. He stared at them, let his eyes crawl over them like insects, until she shuddered from the gaze.
"Hurry it up, old buddy," Al said, "this is hard, holding her like this."
Milt mumbled an apology and came in again. She looked at him with widened eyes, as though she hadn't believed that he would really go that far. It made Milt giggle again as he reached out and yanked at the knot on her left hip. It only came partly undone at the first tug, and he had to yank it again. Then the panties fell away, looking like a couple of bandanas.
She was completely naked now. She looked as though she couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that such a thing could happen to Cheryl Walsh, the darling of the drama department, the girl everybody wanted to date. She had probably never been ill-treated in her life, and now she was standing stripped before men who felt nothing for her but contempt and raw lust.
Al and Roger let her go then. She almost fell down, and had to throw out her arms to regain her balance. "Very pretty," Keller said, and they all laughed again. She didn't make another try to get away. This time she looked as though the stripping had taught her something, had broken her down a little. She stood there, her gaze on the floor, while her whole body shook with big, hard sobs.
"Please let me go," she said softly. "Please don't do this to me. I can't stand it. I'll go out of my mind if you don't let me go."
"Sure, baby," Al said, "after we went to all that trouble and fuss to get you here, and took all the risks. And now that you've seen us, and know who we are, we're just going to open the door and let you walk out of here a free woman."
"I won't tell anyone about you," she said. "Honestly I won't. Why should I want to help them?" She gestured toward the other girls. "They don't even want to escape."
"They want to, all right," Keller said. "But they know better than to try. You will, too, once you've been shown the consequences. Escape is impossible, Cheryl. Even if you could get out of the house, you wouldn't get any farther than that. You're here to stay. Get used to the fact, and it will be easier on you. Isn't that the case, girls?"
"Yes, sir," Arlene said promptly, and "Yes, sir," Vicky said an instant behind her.
"Now," the Prof said, "it's Milt's right to lay you first, honey. I must say I envy him right now. But he won the right in a fair draw, and we all stand ready to support him if necessary. Will it be necessary? Will we have to use force to see to it that you yield to Milt's rights?"
She looked at him in fresh horror. She looked as though she were surprised that she could still be horrified by anything. Then her gaze fell again. "No," she said. "I know when I'm licked."
"You've got it all wrong, honey," Roger said. "You're the one who's going to do all the licking from now on." They all laughed again, and then laughed harder when she caught his meaning and blushed.
"Go ahead, Milt," the Prof said. "Take your little sweety into one of the bedrooms and have your fun with her."
"That sounds like a winner," Milt said. He gestured to Cheryl, and after an instant she moved to his side. He led her to one of the bedroom doors and stood looking at her and then at the door until she caught on and opened it for him. She stood aside while he entered, and then went in after him.
Cheryl looked more frightened and nervous than before. They were both naked, so there wouldn't be any time wasted on that score, he thought. "Get your ass over there and turn down that bed," he ordered. She looked at him for a moment, and he thought she was going to refuse, or rather fail, to obey him. But she walked to the bed and pulled down the covers. Milt walked over to her and took her in his arms. She was stiff, but she didn't offer any fight. She stood there and endured his embrace, and then his kiss. She didn't offer anything back, but neither did she try to pull away from him.
Milt stood back from her and looked her up and down with deliberate insolence. She flushed until he thought she would burst a blood vessel. She looked so damned embarrassed, it turned him on all the more. He reached out and cupped one breast in his hand. She hadn't been looking at him, and the touch caught her so by surprise that she drew back. Milt frowned at her and stepped close again. He took the breast in his hand once more, taking his time about the movement, and she quivered with the urge to pull away again. She couldn't have done so if she had tried, because her legs were against the side of the bed. Milt massaged and kneaded the breast lightly. It made his cock all the stiffer, and he could hear his breath coming more quickly.
"Lie down, bitch," he said huskily. "This is it."
She looked at him with that pleading look again, but she didn't really try to change his mind. She had come to realize the futility of that, he guessed.
She climbed onto the big bed and lay down. Her body was glowing with sweat, and she was still stiff as wood. She was crying again. Milt crawled onto the bed next to her and he could feel her drawing away from him. She didn't actually move away, it was just a shrinking of her body, a motor reflex as she tried to make herself harder to get to. Her lips were parted and moist, and her red hair was spilled out across the white pillow. She looked more beautiful and more desirable than anything he had ever seen in his life.
Milt slid across the little space between them. His body touched hers, and he laid his hands on her. Suddenly she pulled away from him. She rolled to the opposite side of the bed and bounced onto the floor.
"I can't!" she screamed. "I just can't, I'm sorry! Please, you can't blame me for not doing something I can't do!" She looked at him helplessly for a long moment, as though waiting to see if her apology and explanation would have any effect on him. Milt looked at her coldly. The little bitch was trying to get out of it. He started across the bed toward her, and suddenly she broke and ran for the door.
"Oh, shit," Milt muttered. Now he'd have to get the other guys to come and help him. Much more of this and they were going to get pissed off. But when she reached the door and opened it, Al and Roger were standing there, blocking the way. Milt could see the Prof behind them. "She says she can't do it," Milt said. Al looked at the girl as though he were really pissed. He grabbed her around the waist and picked her up off the floor. She kicked and pummelled at him, but he didn't give any sign of even being aware of it. He carried her to the bed and, when he was about three feet from it, he threw her onto it. She bounced, and by the time she settled down, Al was there. He grabbed an arm and a leg and yelled to Roger.
"Come on over here, Roger," he said. "We've got a real reluctant one this time."
Roger ran over to the bed and grabbed Cheryl's free arm and leg. They gripped her hard, using their arms and the weight of their bodies to pin her down.
"Lie still, goddamn you," Al snarled, but Cheryl seemed out of her mind by this time. She kept on fighting, as though she hadn't heard him. "O. K., Milt," Al said. "Come on, buddy. We got her for you now."
Milt had to crawl over her body to get into position. She kept on fighting like hell, but she wasn't in any position to stop him now. Milt threw himself on her. He could feel the slickness, and the heat, of her body beneath him. Her pussy, bristly and inviting, nudged his abdomen. He slipped his left hand down between their bodies and took hold of his stiffened cock. She screamed as he centered the cock. She knew this was it, and she was really flipping now. Milt guided the cock between the lips of her pussy and pushed it in.
She was a virgin!
He hadn't expected that. He hadn't thought there were any attractive virgins left of her age. But she was one, all right. He had never fucked a virgin before. He had never fucked any girl, except for Arlene and Vicky. But he had read enough, and talked to enough guys, to know what a virgin was like. He could feel the membrane there, as obvious and identifiable as though he had her on a gynecologist's table and was looking at it. It was there in front of his cock, stretched taut by the pressure he was exerting. Her lips were tight and unused, and he could feel a tinge of pain mixed with the pleasure that the contact had already brought him. He held off for a moment. He looked at her face, so close to his he could hardly see it. He could tell that she knew he had detected her virginity. She looked up at him beggingly. He giggled and gave a powerful thrust, using the huge weight of his hams to drive the cock into her. The hymen snapped, tore, and she cried out, a real scream of pain and loss.
Milt lay atop her, his flabby body covering hers. He could feel her limbs relax as she gave up the fight, the fight that she had already lost. He could feel Al's and Roger's grip on her limbs relax too. There was nothing left for her to fight for. Not this time, anyway. She was in his possession. His cock was inside her, throbbing with pleasure even as he felt the pain of bursting through her like that. She was very tight, and he felt an added thrill from the knowledge that he had just made her something she hadn't been before, and that she would never be as she had been again. She wasn't a virgin any more. Depriving her of that status made him feel like a giant, or a god. Even if someone came to the island and rescued her right now, she would never be a virgin again.
He started to fuck her, humping his body up and down and driving her into the mattress. She didn't respond, except for an occasional shudder of disgust, but right now he didn't need any response from her. He was so turned-on that he was able to go it alone.
He kept driving into her for a while, and then he knew he was about to go off. It was a wonder that he hadn't come before he had punched into her, as excited as he had been. He supposed he should be grateful for the fact that he had had the chance to fuck her at all, under the circumstances. Still, he would have liked this one to last longer. It was great, busting a virgin against her will.
The thought sent his come flooding out of his prick and into her. She cried out again, a cross between a scream and a sob, and then she was silent. Milt drove into her some more, and then his cock sent the pleasure throbbing through his body. It was over then, and he withdrew from her sadly.
He lay on her for a long moment, still able to enjoy the contact with her body. Her breasts, flaccid now, were a superb feeling against his chest. He could hear her sobs and felt her fight for breath under his weight. He ran his mouth over her face, tasting the sweetness of her skin one more time, and then he crawled off her.
"Thanks, fellows," he said. "I'll do the same for you some time."
Al looked almost out of it, he was so turned-on. "O.K., buddy," he said, his eyes glazed. "I've got to go get me a girl right now, or I'm going to bust something." He started away from the bed.
"Hell," Milt said, anxious to be the nice guy and return the favors they had done him. "Why don't you use her, since she's the one who turned you on?"
Al looked at him in surprise. "Well, she's your girl for a while yet," he said. Cheryl gasped and started to sit up. Without even bothering to look at her, Al backhanded her across the face, and she let out a vocalized gasp and fell back to a prone position.
"Shit," Milt said magnanimously, "I don't see any reason to stand on ceremony. So she's still mine. I just got my rocks off in her. She's no good to me for the time being. Why shouldn't you have some fun with her? That is, if you can stand sloppy seconds."
"If I can't stand it, I'll stop in the middle of things," Al said with a grin. Milt could tell that he had won some points with him.
Cheryl lay on the bed looking up in horror as Al stripped. His long, lanky body emerged, shining with sweat from the excitement and the exertion of holding Cheryl in place. He shucked his undershirt and shorts and stood looking down at her like an ebony satyr. He grinned hugely and came forward. His cock was already stiffening. Milt hadn't seen him in the nude before, and it was startling to see the size of his prick. It was still growing with each step closer to Cheryl.
Cheryl made a break, trying to roll off the other side of the bed. At the same time she made a little animal sound in her throat, a sound of fear. Roger grabbed her and pulled her back, pinning her shoulders to the bed. Milt moved into place and caught her flailing legs. She almost managed to kick him before he got a good hold on her. He gripped her ankles as hard as he could and held them still. He couldn't spread her legs wide from that position, because his arms weren't long enough, or strong enough. Al clambered onto the bed eagerly and covered her with his body. She made another sound of fear, and with it a kind of gagging sound of disgust. She had just lost her cherry, Milt thought excitedly, and now she was about to be used in a gang bang. She couldn't stand it, but she was going to stand it. She'd stand a lot more than that before they were through with her.
Her legs were harder to hold onto now, because she was fighting like hell, but he managed to keep them from getting away from him.
"You bastard!" she yelled. "Goddamn all of you!" She went on like that, but she was almost incoherent. It was good that she was yelling, because she was using up her breath and cutting down her stamina. Al was breathing hard, but it wasn't so much from exertion, Milt could tell, as from excitement. "Let me go!" Cheryl screamed. "Let me go, let me go!"
Al worked one leg between hers, wedging in with his knee and then working more and more in until her legs were spread. Milt found that with that help, he was able to hold onto her legs pretty well even at the wide angle. Al was working in now with his other knee. He had to hand it to the guy. He knew how to make a girl open up for him.
Al lay right on her, pressing her into the bed with his weight. She kept on cussing at them, and now she was crying like crazy, but she wasn't giving much fight any more. With Roger holding onto her arms, Milt gripping her ankles, and Al lying on her, pressing her shoulders and back against the bed, she wasn't in any position to offer much active resistance. Al's hand went down to his prick and centered it on her slit. She gave one last, frantic burst of effort then, but it was over quickly. She lay pretty still as he pushed into her. She seemed to have given up.
Al started in fucking her right away. His hips worked and pumped like crazy over her, pushing his massive prick into her and pulling it back again. She lay still under him, and Milt could feel the tension in her legs release. She was thoroughly beaten now and wasn't offering any fight at all.
Al continued to plunge and withdraw. Milt had to admire his virility. He really could go a long time. His cock was stabbing into her and he was grunting little sounds of enjoyment. He was holding it at the same speed, just like an expert. He was really good.
Then Al accelerated. That seemed to get to her, because she let out a sudden cry, and her body tensed visibly. Milt felt her legs twist in his hands suddenly, and it was different from the twisting she had done before when she was trying to get away. It was a convulsive motion, and he could tell that it was one of intense pleasure. She had been lying still like that from sheer willpower, Milt thought. She had been fighting herself, for she was really enjoying the fucking almost as much as Al. Milt felt a tingle of pleasure at the thought. Cheryl was here against her will and trying to fight them off; she'd kill them if she could. But she couldn't help getting pleasure out of the fucking. It was great to think of it. They had succeeded in raping not only her body but also her mind, her soul, her emotions.
Then Al gave a louder grunt, a cry really, and Milt knew that he was getting his rocks off. Cheryl made the same despairing sound she had uttered when Milt had flooded her with his cream, and then she lay still. Al crawled off her. He rolled over on his back and then sat up, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and placing them on the floor.
"That was great," he said. "I don't know when I've ever enjoyed it as much. She's good. When we get her broken in, she's gonna be the best of the bunch."
Milt looked over at Roger. "You want some of her now?"
"No," Roger said, after a moment's hesitation. "I think I'll let it go this time. Seconds are all right, but thirds are a little sloppy for me."
"In that case, gentlemen," Keller said from his observation post by the door. "I think it's time we attended to the disciplining of this girl. She's broken a lot of rules, deliberately, and I don't think we should be easy on her. Does anyone have any suggestions as to the proper punishment?"
"Hell, I'll leave that up to you," Roger said. "You always manage to get pretty good results."
"Sure," Al said. He looked almost dreamy with sexual satisfaction. "You pick it, Prof. Like you said, she deserves something special."
"How about you, Milt?" Keller asked.
"I'll go along with you, too, Prof."
"Fine. Let's get her out into the big room then."
Cheryl showed some more life then. She had learned, in the last hour or so, that they weren't bullshitting. It tickled Milt to see her pathetic struggles against Al and Roger. They took her by her arms, lifted her almost completely from the floor, and walked her out of the bedroom. Milt tagged along, eager to see what Prof would have in mind for her.
"First of all," Keller said, when they were all out in the big room again. "I think she should do without food or water for a couple of days. That's just an incidental punishment, not the main one." They all nodded. Cheryl stared at Keller wide-eyed. "As to the main event," Keller went on, "I think she's been much worse than either of our other two darlings. Therefore, our punishment should be worse than they had to endure." He looked around the room, and his eyes stopped on a structure Milt had noticed before. He had never asked about the thing, because he didn't want to seem ignorant. It looked like a couple of metal saw horses bolted together, with two sheets of heavy plywood positioned together over them, coming to a sharp peak. There were some gadgets on the sides of the plywood that looked like stirrups, only they had manacles on them. And above the whole gadget, hanging down from the ceiling, was a chain with two more manacles. "Bring her over here," the Prof said, walking to the gadget. Al and Roger pulled her along. She was trying to fight them again, but it was like a kitten in the jaws of an alligator. "Set her up there," Keller said. They had a little trouble doing that, because she wouldn't part her legs, but then Al hit her a good one in the belly, and she lost her breath and stopped fighting. Al lifted her up again, holding her around the waist. He was so big, and she was so small, it almost looked like a father putting his little girl on a horse on the merry-go-round. Roger lifted her legs, pulling them in front of her. When Al set her on the saw horses, her legs parted naturally to straddle the sharp peak of the plywood sheets.
Keller stepped forward and fastened her ankles in the stirrup gadgets. They were adjustable, and he pulled them to a point where they would be holding her in place, with a slight downward pull on her legs. It made it impossible for her to use the stirrups for support. They held her in place without giving her something to stand on.
The Prof grabbed her hands and locked them in the manacles suspended from the ceiling. She didn't even struggle any more. The manacles were about even with her feet, so that they held her in a position high enough to be uncomfortable, but also low enough so that she wouldn't be able to get very good leverage if she tried to lift herself up a little.
"There you are," Keller said. "That should do nicely, I think. How does it feel, Cheryl? Uncomfortable?" When she didn't answer, he said, "I think so. But you'll be surprised at how much more uncomfortable it will be in twelve hours."
She looked at him in shock, and Keller laughed. "Yes, I thought that would get a rise out of you, my dear. Twelve hours on this device, and then we'll put you on the strappado for about nine more hours. Then a dozen swats across the back with a riding crop, and you should be much more cooperative. I really don't think you'll be as hard to break as you believe. Pain and discomfort break down a stubborn will very easily. But, if you should be so foolish as to make this a real test of wills, we can go on just as long as it takes to make a believer out of you, Cheryl. And if you should prove to be unbreakable, then we'll just have to write you off." He let it go at that. Cheryl looked at him with a horrified expression, and it was obvious that he wouldn't have to explain what would happen to girls who were written off.
"Now then," the Prof said. "I think we should see about punishing our other two chattels." He gestured to the other girls, and they came out of their open cells. It hadn't been necessary to lock them, for the basement door was still locked, and they were now cowed beyond trying to get out.
"I think we'll be pretty easy on you two girls," Keller said. "After all, a sin of omission isn't as bad as an overt act." He beamed a smile at them, and they smiled back uncertainly. "I think we'll take you, Arlene," he said, "and just put you on the kneeler for two hours or so. Fair enough?" She blanched at the sentence, but she managed to keep her smile.
"Yes, sir," she said.
"Good. And now for you, Vicky. You helped us out later, and that makes up for your indiscretion earlier. In part, at least. Let me see." He looked at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating the problem. "I think we'll just put you on the strappado for an hour. That isn't bad, is it?"
She actually looked relieved. No doubt, Milt thought, she had been worried that Keller might decide to put her back on the kneeler. Ever since that first night, she had had a phobia of the kneeler. "No, sir, that's not bad," she agreed quickly. "You're very generous, sir."
The Prof led Arlene over to the kneeler. She, too, had been fastened to it earlier, and in fact it had been her testimony as to its effectiveness that had caused Vicky to spend her time on it. She looked at it with trepidation, but she knelt when the Prof told her to. Two hours on it would be like purgatory, Milt thought with delight. And she wasn't going to be disobedient and trade two hours of purgatory for five or six hours of hell. She got down on the board and held her hands up to be manacled. The Prof fastened them, and then closed the other irons around her ankles. He gave her breast a little pinch and ruffled her hair. "That's a good girl," he said, and then led Vicky over to the strappado. She held her hands behind her obligingly and he fastened the irons on them, then pulled them up until she gasped and went up on tiptoe.
Cheryl was already gasping from the pain of straddling the sharp peak of wood. Keller gave her a smile and a wave, and they all headed for the door.
Chapter 8
There were three women now, and four men. Better than it had been, Keller thought, but still not ideal. They should have at least one woman per man, and preferably some extras, so that whenever a woman was out of order for menstrual reasons, none of the club members would have to go begging.
The solution, of course, was to go get some more girls. But that could be risky, he thought. The newspapers had played up the abductions, or disappearances, as one or two papers still conservatively called them. And when the papers played something up, the police were bound to get fidgety about it. It would probably be wisest to wait until things cooled down, to go on using the three women they had until the police started to relax a little, and then to strike twice in rapid succession. But that idea didn't appeal to Keller. He wanted fresh meat, new girls to make life more interesting.
He wondered, later, whether the idea would ever have occurred to him if he hadn't been reading the paper that evening. He had just finished a particularly torrid little tryst with Cheryl Walsh, and had sent her into the kitchen afterwards to help Vicky with the dishes and general cleaning up. Arlene was off with someone, in a bedroom.
The paper was a local one, but it carried news of neighboring towns as well. And while he was looking through the back pages, a picture of three very pretty girls caught his eye.
They were dressed in bathing suits, not bikinis but revealing enough to show that the girls were attractive by any standards. He really didn't think anything of it at first. It was just that pretty girls were on his mind, and he paused to read the piece under the picture.
It was about a building dedication in the town of Porter, forty miles away. The local high school was opening a new building, and the girls had been elected by the student body to preside over the dedication as the queen and her two princesses. Keller couldn't for the life of him guess how one would choose among the girls for queen, because they were all so beautiful that the difference must be a matter of personal taste.
Jo Ann Barnes, age seventeen, Diane Blair, age seventeen, and Holly Allison, age eighteen, were to preside over the dedication, and then reign at a prom to be held that night in the new building. The address of both shindigs was given.
Thoughts, plans, possibilities all ganged up in his head at once. He couldn't contain his excitement and had to get up from his chair and start pacing the room. He looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock; time for a drink, he thought. He poured himself a drink and then walked through the house, looking for the others. He found Roger and Milt in the kitchen, playing some kind of card game while they watched Cheryl and Vicky clean up.
"Where's Al?" Keller said.
"He's in his bedroom with Arlene," Roger replied without looking up. "Why?"
"I have something I'd like to discuss with all of you. As soon as he's finished having his fun, lock the girls up and come to the living room, will you?"
"Sure," Roger said, and Keller noted that both Roger and Milt were looking at him. They looked alert, as though his excitement had communicated itself to them. Even the girls paused to look at him for a moment, then got back to work quickly, before someone decided they were dogging it.
Keller went back into the living room and sat down. He finished his drink and then poured himself another. By the time he had finished it, Roger and Milt were coming into the room.
"Al will be here in a minute, Prof," Roger said. "He's cleaning himself up a little. All the girls are locked up good and tight, but they didn't finish with their work."
"That's all right," Keller said. "They can catch up later. This won't wait."
Al walked in and poured himself a drink; then the other two wanted a drink, and by the time they were ready to listen to him, Keller was in a state.
He told them about the three girls. He showed them their picture and could see that they were impressed by it.
"I thought you agreed that it was best to lay low for a while," Al said. "I'd like to have some more girls up here too, but this soon after taking three of them ... "
"That's the beauty of it," Keller said. "The police here on the alert because three girls have disappeared within a few weeks. But Porter is forty miles from here. The cops there aren't going to be expecting anything."
"If we pull this one," Roger said, "the police everywhere within a hundred miles will be expecting things to happen."
"Of course," Al said. "But we'll have taken three girls at once, right, Prof?"
"Right," Keller said, as proud as though he were praising a favorite student. "And we won't need to go after any more for a while. They'll outnumber us by a pretty good percentage, and we'll have our pick of them. We can retire on what we'll have then, for the time being at least. In six or eight months we'll be able to go out after some more girls. It's a real setup. And here's something else. The new catch will consist of almost enough pretty girls to go around. Only one of us will have to settle for one of the old girls."
That appealed to them, he could see that. Al, he felt was already on his side. Al had the hunter instinct, just as he had.
"You got some kind of a plan?" Al asked, prompting him.
"Just the bare bones of one. I think we'll need to use Milt's electronic genius for this one, if we decide to do it. He did so well on that last job that I don't see any reason to try this one without making use of his talent."
He could see that his flattery had won Milt over. For that matter, Roger looked as though he didn't feel any serious objections to the idea. Why should any of them object? They'd done very well so far. And every new girl brought into the place was another soft ass to snuggle up to.
"Where we going to take them?" Roger asked. "At the prom?"
"Right. I was thinking of something similar to the system we used the last time. We could short circuit the fire alarm, so that it would go off only in the building without bringing the fire department. Can you manage that, Milt?"
"If you can get me into the building, it'll be a cinch."
"Getting into the building won't be any problem. The prom will be open to the public, according to the paper."
"Then I could do it with my eyes shut," Milt said with a touch of smug conceit.
"Good."
"What'll we carry three girls in, Prof?" Roger asked. "We can't get them all into the trunk of the car."
"That's your department. Get us something big, but be certain that no one will suspect it of anything. We have a week and two days before the prom night."
"No sweat. In fact, I have something in mind. It will take a little work, though."
"We'll help," Keller said, excitement creeping into his voice. "I think we can even convince our three present girls to pitch in."
They all laughed at that.
"How big will this vehicle be?" Al asked.
"Plenty big," Roger said. "Why?"
"Oh, I was just thinking. We have plenty of room here, and there are still six empty cells. Why settle for just three girls on this caper, even if they are the prettiest girls in the place? There any reason why we shouldn't take as many as we can?"
"No reason at all," Keller said. The idea appealed to him. He was gaining a new respect for Al's brain.
"The way I figure it," Al said, "if we grab onto a whole lot of them, and if some of them are ugly as hell, we can always weed out the ones we don't want. Right?"
"Precisely." The man thought like a general, there was no doubt about it. He was worth more than just his athletic and shooting skills. "Now," Keller said, "I think the next thing to do is for at least one of us to get up there and look the building over without being noticed. We'll have to look over the grounds, too, so that we can plan intelligently."
Milt had been looking at the article in the paper while they were talking. "Look here," he said, holding it up. "At the end of the article." It was a map of the school grounds, and a floor plan of the new building. How convenient, Keller thought. They couldn't have been more thoughtful ...
* * *
There were a lot of people at the prom, including some his own age, Keller noticed. He wouldn't be conspicuous. It was a large school, and a lot of the people didn't know each other. They wouldn't suspect him of being anything but another parent.
He stood sipping punch and looking at the three girls seated on the platform that had been erected for them. They were dressed in formals, and they were almost too beautiful to look at. They all looked radiantly happy, too. Keller smiled to himself at that thought. If all went well, this night would see them a little less delighted about things, and there was no reason to suspect that anything would go wrong. It was the most complex plan they had yet adopted, and the most daring, but they had worked very carefully on it, with infinite attention to detail, and he was confident. Those girls were already the property of the league.
The girls would dance later, and their boyfriends were standing impatiently by. But they were expected to spend the first hour of the prom on their thrones, looking lovely and gracious.
At three minutes to eight, Keller went to the men's room. He entered one of the stalls and took the little package out of his pocket. Weighing it in his hand, he looked at his watch until he had ten seconds to go, then dropped the package into the toilet and flushed it. The water had an instant effect on the chemical in the package. Smoke began to pour out instantly, and then, a moment later, the rumbling explosion came. By that time Keller was outside the stall, with his gun in his hand. There were three other men in the men's room, one in another stall and two others standing at the urinals draining their bladders. He shot the two at the urinals as they turned their heads, startled by the smoke and the explosion. The gun was a heavy one, loaded with hollow point ammunition, the two men dropped like stones. Then the stall opened, and the other man came out. Keller shot him, too, and the man fell in a heap, his pants still down around his ankles. There were three witnesses who wouldn't testify about the man who was in the men's room just before the explosion. Keller shoved the gun under his coat and ran out into the hall.
The alarm went off just then, and the people looked around, stunned for a moment. Then someone yelled, "Fire!" and they all started running, just as they had at the play when they had taken Cheryl. Keller was closer to the door than the rest of them, and he ran outside, pulling the rubber doorstops out of his pocket as he went. When he was outside, he pushed the doors closed against their compressors and stuck the doorstops under them. That would slow things up at this door. If Al was at the other big door, as he was supposed to be, and if he had stuck in the stops the place would be in a real panic in a moment. With these doors stuck, the people would be bottled up and forced to head out the other way. The emergency exits would be in use now, and the one closest to the queen and her two princesses was wide-open.
Keller moved quickly, running around to the back of the building. By the time he got there he was out of breath, panting wildly. Only a few people had managed to get out of the building. He could hear the screams of the rest of them, muffled through the windowless walls.
The dump truck was at the exit. The frame they had attached jutted out behind it like something from a science fiction movie, and the net stretched over it was taut and weird-looking. Otherwise, it looked like any other dump truck. There was even a mound of dirt in the back. No one who didn't know would be able to tell that the dirt was only two feet deep, and that the space below that, under the canvas on which the dirt lay, was empty.
People started coming out of the building, and the truck was ready for them. The three girls were among the first batch; there were other girls with them, and adults and boys too. Keller glanced at Roger in the cab and saw him reach down and yank back the lever they had installed. The explosive charges went off, throwing the weights into the air, and the net sailed up and over in a graceful arc. It landed right in front of the door through which the girls had emerged. There was fresh screaming, along with the cries of the boys,
and then the framework to which the net was attached moved forward, toward the truck, just as the gate opened. The framework and the net disappeared into the back of the truck with the squirming crying prisoners, and the gate slammed shut again. The screams were muffled by the truck, but still audible. Keller glanced at the cab again and saw Roger pull another lever. There was a barely audible hissing sound as the gas was injected into the truck, and then the screaming stopped.
Without a moment's hesitation, Roger threw the truck into gear and took off as fast as he could. A steel plate had slid into place in front of the exit, trapping the remainder of the people in the building. A few stragglers had managed to get out, and they stood gaping at the truck with open mouths. The crack of a .22 rifle sounded, and a girl in a streaked and torn formal dropped to the ground. The young boy who was standing beside her looked down, stupefied, and then the rifle cracked again and the boy fell next to her. As Keller headed for the car, parked nearby, the rifle sounded again and again. With Al's shooting ability, and any luck at all, there wouldn't be anyone around to testify that a dump truck had had anything to do with the mass abduction. A good night's work, he thought as he slid into the car next to Milt and turned on the engine. And a lot of first-class fucking to come.
They had taken twelve girls, eight boys, and three adults. When the dump truck disgorged its cargo, after riding across to the island on their private ferry, the people lay on the floor of the garage looking like rag dolls. But some were more attractive rag dolls than the others.
The three girls they had set out to take were separated from the rest right away. There wasn't any question about keeping them. The boys, the one male adult, and the older of the two adult women were shot and thrown into the big crematorium Keller had installed on the island. The bodies would be nothing but unidentifiable ashes by morning. The rest of the prisoners, all girls except for one adult woman, who was a real beauty, were laboriously taken to the basement and locked into cells. They'd sleep until morning, and there was no use waiting. Since they only had nine cells, including the three which were already in use, it was necessary to double up some of the prisoners.
Arlene, Vicky and Cheryl all stood in their cells staring wide-eyed at the proceedings. The sight of so many new girls probably terrified them, Keller thought with amusement. They all knew that as the number of girls became unworkable, some would have to be weeded out. And being the first three there, they had a good chance of being the first three to get the axe.
Keller walked over to the cage in which Vicky was locked and smiled in at her. "Don't worry, honey," he said. "We'll be keeping you for a while yet. Look at the new girls. Not all of them are even pretty. When you start using a net, you catch all kinds of strange fish, and some of them have to be thrown back. Or not thrown back, exactly. Just eliminated from the catch."
"Yes, sir," she said lamely, no doubt afraid to say anything, and at the same time afraid not to speak. Keller smiled at her again.
"How would you like to spend tonight with me, Vicky?" he asked.
"That would be an honor, sir," she said, lowering her eyes a little. Keller felt as though he had just grown two feet. He called to Al to throw him the keys, caught them, and opened up the cell. Vicky came out at a trot, her naked breasts bobbling prettily. Keller locked her cell again, because he had decided that keeping them locked, even while empty, was a good habit to cultivate, and then tossed the keys back to Al.
"Gonna give the little blonde a break tonight, Prof?" he called with a grin.
"I thought I might just do that," Keller said, and they both laughed. All four of them were laughing a lot, Keller reflected. It was a good night, a successful night. He patted Vicky on the ass and pointed to the door that led out of the basement. "We'll use my private bedroom tonight," he said.
They went upstairs, Keller leading the way and Vicky following two steps behind him. He paused at the door and waited for her to open it for him. She did so, and then stepped back quickly to allow him to precede her through it.
Keller walked over to a chair and sat down. Vicky closed the door and stood looking at him uncertainly, as though she weren't sure what he wanted her to do next.
"Come here," he said. He held out one foot. "Take off my shoes, Vicky."
She knelt before him and took off the proffered shoe, then peeled the sock off after it. He lowered his foot and held out the other one. She repeated the service. Keller stood up. "Go turn down the bed." While she was attending to that, he stripped quickly, tossing his clothes to the floor. One of the conveniences connected with using his own bedroom rather than one of those in the basement was the fact that he had his clothes here. He could just drop the old ones anywhere he chose and leave them for Vicky to pick up. And he would have fresh ones handy for her to lay out while he was showering after the fucking was over.
She had the bed turned down by the time he was stripped. She was standing next to it, watching him anxiously. It was wonderful, he thought, how a little pain could make a girl so eager to please that she got ulcers wondering whether to get into bed right away or wait to be told. It made him feel warm and rosy all over to think of how terrified she was of him.
Keller walked over and patted her on the ass. She smiled eagerly but uncertainly, hoping that the pat was a sign that he was happy with her. He smiled at her and gestured toward the bed. Vicky scrambled onto it quickly and moved over to the center to give him room. Keller lay on it, sprawling on his back and looking up at the mirrored canopy above. Their reflections in the mirror made an exciting view. He reached over and stroked her upper thigh, feeling the prickly tangle of pubic hair. He could see himself doing it in the mirror, see her reaction. It was nice to watch yourself, he thought. It was also very stimulating. He saw his prick in the mirror as it stiffened.
"Go down on me, Vicky," he ordered casually. She moved with admirable speed, he thought, crawling down to the level of his groin. She knelt there, stooping down so that her face was near his cock. He could feel her breath on it, a warm breeze that came in intermittent wisps of air. Then she took the cock in her hands. He could see her in the mirror, but her body blocked out his own and he couldn't see what she was doing.
She blew a puff of warm air on the cock, and it stood all the straighter, hardened by the warm breeze. Then her tongue came out, and the tip of it touched the end of his cock. Her hair fell in the way, and he couldn't see her face or his cock any more.
"Move down a little," he said. "Your ass down more toward my feet." She did so, throwing a puzzled look at him. "That's good," he said. "Now keep your face turned up this way. I like to watch you do it."
Vicky flushed deeply, but she did as she was told. She kept her lovely face tilted toward him all the while. He could see her working at it, avoiding any turn of the head, any action that would obscure her face for more than an instant. He knew how she hated to have him watch her doing this; the work she was doing to help him do just that made things ail the more exciting. His cock was stiff and hard, and he could feel it begin the throbbing that meant he would be coming soon.
He fought the urge, working to keep himself in. Her face was contorted with the effort to extend her tongue, and keep licking away. She closed her eyes from time to time, as though to cut herself off from visual reality. Keller put himself in her place mentally for a moment, imagined how the world must look to her at this moment, with nothing but his cock, puffed and hard, and his hairy belly in front of her, just inches away from her eyes.
Then he felt an overwhelming urge to fuck her. The blow job was great, but all at once he had to get into her, into her cunt, and screw her.
"Get up here," he croaked hoarsely. She looked up at him in a puzzled way. He had never ordered her to stop in the middle of a Frenching before, and she was doubtless surprised. "Hurry it up," he said. He knew that he didn't have much time left. She moved up beside him with the same desperate speed she had shown when he had ordered her to blow him. Keller didn't even wait for her to get into position. He shoved her roughly on her back and sprawled atop her. Her body was quivering with fear, with a wild nervousness, and he could feel her heartbeat, faster even than his own. Vicky's legs spread under his, opening for him obligingly, and his cock jutted between them, the tip already damp with his come. He thrust into her with such urgency that she gave a cry of pain, answered by his own grunt of pleasure.
He didn't wait, but began pumping and fucking her for all he was worth, jamming the cock into her and withdrawing it again and again, pushing into the root and pulling it out to the crown. Vicky began to cry out with pleasure. He could tell the difference from the first cry she had uttered. She was getting there too now, perhaps having a small, preliminary orgasm of her own.
Then his come spread into her, spilled and flowed and poured from him like a cataract, jetting hotly into her, wringing fresh cries from her. He filled her with his come, and she cried out again. He knew that he had brought her to a major climax, and that spurred him on in the last moment. His body accelerated, giving one last, mighty pumping of pleasure and strength, and then his cock went soft in her, and he rolled off her suddenly flaccid body and lay staring up at the mirror above them. "Go get me a drink," he gasped. She stared at his reflection for an instant, as though she hadn't understood the order. Then she came alive suddenly, remembering her place, and jumped up. She knew what he liked in the way of a drink.
In a moment she was back with the drink in her hand. Keller sat up and scooted himself back against the head of the bed. He leaned there, sipping the drink while she stood next to the bed.
"That was a good one, wasn't it?" he asked. He was sure she knew that he meant good for her as well as for him. She flushed deeply, and he could see her fighting the urge to look away from him.
"Yes, sir," she said. "That was a good one."
"You may as well accept whatever pleasure you get from fucking, Vicky," he said. "You're not going to have any other kind of pleasure from now on. And the more you can work yourself up, the more likely you'll be to please your partners. And that means that you're more likely to live a while longer." He watched the sudden whitening of her face with amusement. "Something wrong, honey?" he asked, and took another sip of his drink.
"I ... I ... "
"Yes?"
"I just ... " She paused and swallowed. "Sir, are you sure ... I mean, did you mean it about not keeping all the other girls?"
"Of course. We haven't room for all of them. We took thirteen tonight, including the older woman. And since we have cells for only nine, we can hardly keep all of them, now can we?"
"No, sir. But did you mean that about not ... killing ... me, right away?"
"Well, don't take it as a guarantee, Vicky. After all, I may be the senior member of this league, but only that. I'm no more the boss than any of the others. If they vote to get rid of you and keep some other girl in your place, that's the way it will be. Besides, I haven't really had a chance to look over all the new ones yet. I can't really tell where I stand on the matter until I've seen them." He sipped his drink again, feeling the heat of pleasure flow through him at the consternation on her face. It was good for her to be on edge, he thought. All the girls should be constantly on the alert that they could be put to death at any moment. That would keep them on the stick.
And that gave him an idea. A really good idea, that almost made him laugh aloud ...
Chapter 9
They met in the basement, and had Arlene, Vicky and Cheryl bring down some easy chairs for them. The new girls had all had plenty of time to wake up, look around and get scared. The four members had been listening to their hysterical exchanges over the intercom, and had decided to let them worry about things for a few hours before going down there.
When the new girls saw the door open, they fell silent abruptly, and Keller had to fight the urge to grin at them. They looked terrified. Their formals were all wrinkled and disheveled, and their faces were streaked with tears and running makeup. The three they had gone after in the first place were in cells that faced the door. Even in the state they were in, they looked incredibly beautiful. The drawing had been held upstairs, and Roger had drawn the short stub. Milt, with characteristic luck, had drawn first pick, Keller had drawn second, and Al third. So Roger would have to make his choice from what was left after the three princesses were picked off. That was really a horrible fate, Keller thought, looking around at the pretty and even beautiful girls who occupied the cells. There were no actually ugly ones there. There was one who was a little on the plump side and, for compensation, another who was somewhat skinny and shapeless. But even these girls would have been welcome in the beds of most men. It was only when you had the choice of better, Keller thought, that such girls ceased to seem attractive.
The chairs were set up in the middle of the basement, and the men took their places. Al had a .22 automatic in his right hand, and he placed a box of ammunition on the arm of his chair. Keller could see the women eye the pistol and the ammunition with obvious apprehension. They had good reason to feel apprehensive, he thought with eagerness. In a short while they'd all be even more scared than they were now. All but a few, the few would never be afraid of anything again.
Keller looked around at the girls. Some of them were behind him, and outside the range of his vision, but he looked at those he could manage to see. He cleared his throat, and the silence, already complete, became electric.
"I may as well tell you why you're here," he said. "You were brought here to serve as slaves to the four of us."
There was an excited babble of voices. Keller let it go on for a moment, then cleared his throat again and the babble died away. The girls were looking at him with greater fear now. Well, they had a long way to go, he thought.
"You're not the first girls to be brought here. Just the first big batch. We already have three girls serving us." The three old hands were standing behind the easy chairs at attention, ready to do the bidding of their masters. He could see that the sight of them, the way they were standing there, was effective. The girls in the cells looked at them and then at Keller again. Most of them. Some of them looked at the gun in Al's lap.
"Now," Keller said, "we have a little problem. As much as we would like to keep all of you charming creatures, we simply don't have the facilities, as you can see. Therefore, it becomes necessary to choose which we will keep, and which we will ... dispose of."
"My God," one of the girls cried suddenly. "My God, they're going to kill us!"
That started them all off screaming and crying, and some of them rattled the doors of their cells, as though trying to break them down. Keller tried to shut them up, but it didn't do any good. Finally, he signaled to Al, who raised the automatic and fired a loud shot in the air. The bullet dove into the wooden paneling on the ceiling. The screams peaked, and then, there was silence.
"That's better," Keller said. "I don't want to have to raise my voice anymore." He looked at them in silence for a moment, letting the point sink in. His eyes fell on the older woman. Actually, he guessed, she was an "older woman" only in contrast to these teen-agers. She was probably in her middle twenties, a teacher, or an older sister of some girl at the prom. Well, they'd make their decisions about her pretty soon. For the moment, she was a good-looking woman, and she was looking at him with a fear almost as obvious as that of the younger prisoners.
"Now," Keller said, "we will choose the girls we wish to keep on the basis of looks, for one thing. But that won't be all. Obedience and enthusiasm will be just as important. We don't want any girls here who think they're too good, or too pure, to do what we tell them to do." He let that sink in and could see that it was having its effect. "All right," he said, "now we'll start the proceedings." He turned to his companions. "Does any of you have a choice as to which girl we should consider first?"
"How about that one, Prof?" Milt asked, after mock deliberating; for the first choice had been carefully planned beforehand. He pointed to one of the least attractive girls in the crowd. Keller tossed the keys to Vicky.
"Bring her here."
Vicky trotted over to the cell and opened the door. The girl inside, the plump one, backed away. "If you don't come out here," Keller said, "I'm going to have to ask my friend to use his gun on you."
"No, please," she said, and came out at a run. Her formal was pink chiffon, which she had no business wearing with her figure. At the moment it looked ready for the scrap heap. She stood in front of her cell as though she didn't know what to do next.
"Come over here, stupid," Keller ordered. He pointed to a spot right in front of the four of them. The girl hurried over. "What's your name?" he demanded.
"Carol Roger, sir," she said softly.
"Speak up!"
"My name is Carol Roger, sir," she said again, more loudly than before.
"How old are you, Carol?"
"Seventeen, sir."
"Fine. Would you like to be one of our little slaves? Or would you prefer to die?"
"Please, sir, I don't want to die!"
"Well, then, do you prefer slavery to death?"
"Yes, sir," she said after just a moment's hesitation.
"Fine. Take off your clothes, then." He gave the order as casually and as abruptly as he could, giving her only the barest chance to catch her wits in time to obey it. Instead of doing so, she stood staring at him, as he had intended her to.
"What?" she asked in a mixture of horror and wonder.
Al shot her. He raised the pistol quickly and put the shot right through her forehead, just above the bridge of her nose. She fell without making a sound.
Then there were screams from all over the room. Even Arlene let out a yelp of surprise before she caught herself and shut up. Keller let the tumult die down before he went on.
"Carol didn't pass the obedience test," he said. "Our standards of obedience are very high here. We demand instant, unquestioning obedience to all orders, however unpleasant or surprising they may be to you." He looked at Roger. "You have a girl in mind?"
"Why don't we try that one next?" He pointed to the skinny one. She was pretty enough, as Carol had been, but she just didn't measure up to the rest of the company. She looked terrified, but Keller noticed that she came out of the cell without a moment's hesitation. She walked over to the spot where Carol lay and stood muster, looking away from the body at her feet.
"Drag that carrion away," Keller ordered Vicky and Cheryl, and they set about the job with obvious reluctance. They carried the body to a corner where it would be out of sight of the members, but still visible to the girls. A nice little reminder. "Now, then, what's your name, dear?" Keller asked the girl standing before him.
"Sue Landon, sir," she said.
"Age?"
"Seventeen, sir."
"Which do you prefer, Sue? Death, or service?"
"I want to live, sir," she said desperately. "Please don't kill me. I'll do whatever you say."
"Fine. Take off your clothes."
She didn't even show the instant's hesitation he had expected. But of course she was ready for the order. She began to strip instantly, pulling her clothes off so quickly she tore some articles.
She didn't have a bad little body, really, just a little flat in some places where it should have been round. But it had the nice, firm, pink look of youth. She stood in front of them shivering with fear and embarrassment. She shifted her body in a reflex movement, rendering the most intimate portions of her anatomy less plainly visible. "Stand up straight, Sue," Keller ordered, and she did so. She flushed a deep red, and veins showed in her forehead. She looked as though she were about to pass out.
"I call for discussion, gentlemen," Keller said.
"Well, I don't know, Prof," Al replied. "She's all right, but I can't see that she's up to the standards of the league."
"She's pretty, though," Milt said.
"Pretty, sure, but not beautiful. And I think we have better stuff to choose from here."
"Aw, give her a break," Milt said.
They were all playing parts. It had been decided before coming down to the basement that the first two girls chosen would be used as examples to the others, and therefore that the two least attractive girls would be chosen first. Sue looked at them in absolute horror. They went on discussing the relative merits of killing her or of allowing her to live in the most casual tones.
"Break, shit," Al said. "We can't give all of them a break, can we? We don't have room for all of them. Some of them are gonna have to be killed, and she looks to me like a good choice.
"Well, I don't know," Milt said. "So she's not as pretty as the other ones. So what? She's pretty enough so she wouldn't turn my stomach if I caught her in my bed. And maybe she's more obedient than the others. We could give her a little test, couldn't we? I mean, what've we got to lose?"
"Crap," Al said. "I think it's a waste of time."
"We do things democratically here," Keller said. "We'll vote on it. All in favor of killing her right now say 'aye'."
"Aye!" said Al.
"All in favor of giving her a chance to prove herself, say 'aye'," Keller said.
"Aye," said Milt and Roger together.
"I'll abstain," Keller said. "That means that we give her a chance to show how obedient she can be." Keller reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He tossed them to Sue, who dropped them and then stooped to pick them up. "Strike one of them," Keller said. She did so. "Good. Now, hold the lit match under the nipple of one of your breasts," he ordered casually. She looked at him wide-eyed.
"My God," she said, "I can't!"
"Al," Keller said, and Al raised the pistol.
"No, wait!" Sue yelled. "Please! I'll do it! I'll ... "
The pistol cracked out again, and she dropped as suddenly as Carol had. The screaming was a little less intense than the first time, and it didn't last as long either.
"We don't give second chances," Keller said to all of the girls at once. "If an order is disobeyed, punishment is inevitable. It's as simple as that."
The girls looked at him, at the others, at the gun, and at the body, which Vicky and Cheryl were pulling away. There wasn't a sound. He thought he saw some indignation on a face here and there, but the fear kept it from being expressed. They all looked on the verge of hysteria. Some of them ran to the toilets in their cells and started puking their guts out.
The idea was to work up gradually in the commands and to continue to choose the less attractive girls until they had all been shown the results of the least breach of obedience, and shown, again and again. The lesson had to be brought home to them forcefully. There were plenty of girls to spare. Including the three they already had, they still had fourteen, and if they wanted to keep one girl to a cell, they would need to get rid of five more. By that time every girl left should know her place, and be eager to keep it.
"Does anyone have another choice?" he asked. Al pointed to a girl in a cell across the room, next to one of the princesses. She was a pretty, brown-haired thing, definitely better than the two who had just been eliminated, but still a long way from the best in the place. She was in a cell with one other girl, prettier than she, with black hair. Keller signaled, and Vicky went over and motioned the brown-haired girl out of the cell. She came reluctantly, but the lesson was taking. She didn't have to be coaxed.
"What's your name?" Keller asked, following the form he had set with the first two.
"Rosemary Wilson, sir."
"How old are you, Rosemary Wilson?"
"Sixteen, sir."
"Which do you prefer, Rosemary? Death or dishonor?" The other members laughed at the phrase, and Rosemary flushed.
"I prefer to live, sir. I'll do anything you say. Anything at all."
"Are you certain of that?"
She blanched a little at his words and the challenging tone of his voice, but she managed to stiffen her spine a bit.
"Yes, sir. I'm quite sure."
"Well, of course you can begin by stripping."
"Yes, sir." She prepared for that part of the order. She peeled quickly, ridding herself of the torn and wrinkled formal and tossing it to the ground. Her body was better than he had expected. It was well formed under the dress, a little thinner than he liked them personally, but nicely formed. For a girl of sixteen she had rather nice breasts. But of course the league wasn't in the business of raising girls into womanhood. There was no sense in keeping a girl around just because she looked nice for her age and would probably develop in time. They wouldn't be keeping her that long, so she would undoubtedly have to be eliminated. But in the meantime, it would be nice to have a little fun with her, drive her to the point of rebellion, and then kill her for disobedience. That was the way they had planned it, and that was the only way to teach the remaining girls the lesson: kill all the girls they were planning to kill for disobedience rather than for lack of looks.
Rosemary, despite the show she was putting on, was in misery right now, as he could plainly see. She was avoiding looking at anyone. He wondered if she was a virgin, she certainly looked embarrassed at her nakedness. It must have taken all the willpower she could muster to undress with such seeming casualness. Keller stared at her with a proprietary look, and saw her blush even more furiously.
"Turn around," he said. "Slowly, like a model." She looked as though she were going to faint from humiliation, but she started turning. "More slowly," Keller said. She slowed down, holding her arms out a little, like a model showing off a dress. She looked as though she might fall down a couple of times, and he decided that she was literally on the verge of fainting with humiliation. She blushed clear down to her belly.
"All right," Keller said when she was facing them again. "Now a question. Are you a virgin?"
"I ... " She looked mortified at the question.
"There isn't any sense lying to a question like this, you know. We'll find out anyway, if we decide to keep you. This isn't the kind of place where a virgin stays a virgin for very long."
"Y ... yes, sir," she said. Keller smiled. He hadn't thought there was such a thing as a virgin in a high school any more, even at the age of sixteen. That was something in her favor, he supposed, since someone could have the fun of ripping her, but it wasn't enough. There were other girls too much prettier than she to allow her to live, so he would have to find some way to make her disobey. An idea occurred to him, and he looked at one of the other below-average girls. "Bring her here," he said to Vicky. She trotted to the cell and let the girl out. "What's your name?" Keller asked the girl when she was in place beside Rosemary.
"Ellen Blanding, sir," she said. "I'm sixteen." Keller smiled. He didn't even have to ask the questions any more, they were so anxious to please.
"Fine," he said. "I assume you would like to be one of our slaves, Ellen?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Take off your clothes."
She had the same kind of standard pretty body that Rosemary had. She was a redhead, with freckles all over her body and when she blushed she turned carrot-red. Keller had her turn around, as Rosemary had done. He wanted to work her up to the same kind of pitch as the other girl. He wanted her as embarrassed and humiliated as possible.
"All right," he said. "Now, there's something I want you two girls to do for us. We'd like to have a little stag show here. A private stag show."
He paused, to let the import of his words dawn on them. "Now, I want you two girls to make love to each other. I'm sure you've both done enough reading to know how it's done. I'm referring to oral lovemaking." He almost laughed aloud at the look that he got from both of them. They stared at him for a moment, and then glanced at each other. "You can start off with a nice, sexy kiss," Keller said. "On the month. And make sure it's a sexy one. I want to see you two give each other your tongues. Go ahead."
They hesitated for a moment, and he thought that he could use that as an excuse to kill them right now. But he thought better of it, it would be fun to see them work on each other. So Keller sat back while they kissed. He could tell from the frantic workings of their cheeks and throats that they were obeying his orders. They held the kiss for a long time, though it was obvious that they wanted to break it off. When they finally did part, he could see disgust on their faces, together with the tears in their eyes. Keller felt his prick stand up. Things were getting interesting.
"All right," he said. "Now the two of you sit down on the floor." They did so, looking skittish, like two half-trained fillies about to be saddled. "Fine," he said. "Now, I want you to eat each other's pussies. At the same time. We won't play any favorites here. Just work together on it. We'll sit and watch."
He looked around at the girls in the cells, and saw many of them look away from the scene. Some of them looked on, though, and he made mental notes of which ones. It was interesting, from a psychological point of view, to see which of them found lesbian sex interesting, and which found it too disgusting to watch.
The two girls on the floor came together, face to cunt. They were crying like crazy now, and they moved slowly and haltingly. Only their terror at the consequences of disobedience drove them to follow his orders. They closed on each other, their mouths covering their pussies. They looked as horrified at receiving the act as giving it; or if not as horrified, at least as embarrassed. The embarrassment probably stemmed from the fact that they were finding that side of things too pleasant for their own self-esteem, he thought.
"Inside, girls," he said gleefully. "If the tongues don't go inside, there's no sense in doing it at all."
They started working their tongues inside, as he could tell from the workings of their mouths and jaws. Then one of the bodies on the floor shivered with a sudden and powerful tremor, and he knew that they were following orders nicely. Keller stole a glance at the other members of the league, and he could tell that some girls were going to catch hell tonight. They were all getting turned-on, and he had to admit that the little stag show was turning him on too.
Rosemary and Ellen continued to mouth each other wildly, forcing and driving themselves to their jobs; all the while they were doing it, he could hear them sobbing. The sobs were muffled by the bodies, and their mouths closed over damp pussy, but he could still hear them, and the sound was exciting in itself.
Then the two girls' bodies began to quake with delight, shivering, trembling and shaking, and he could tell that things were really starting to get to them. It just wasn't possible for a woman to get that kind of treatment and not react to it, he supposed, whether she wanted it or not. And these girls were getting turned-on by the tongues licking their insides. They wouldn't be the same after this, he thought. Not that it mattered much. Neither of them would live past this evening. But still, it was fun to know that he was corrupting them to some extent before killing them.
"Mmmmmmm," Ellen moaned as the pleasure became too great to hold in. "Mmmmm!" She was caught up in the sensual pleasure of the thing, and she couldn't hold her feelings in. She was probably regretting the sounds even as she was moaning, but she just couldn't help herself. She would die with the knowledge that she had enjoyed a lesbian act, Keller thought, and the idea made his prick stand a little straighter. Then Rosemary started to moan too, probably stimulated by the sound of Ellen's cries. It was getting more and more sexy; Keller thought. He was beginning to wonder if he could manage to hold out through the entire hearings they had planned without some release.
Then the girls really hit a climax. It was obvious from the way their bodies straightened, and the muffled sounds of their moans grew stronger, almost frantic. They opened their legs to each other more widely than before and almost screamed into each other's cunts. Then there was one last surge of stiffness and joy, one last cry of delight from each of their throats, and it was over.
They lay beside each other, looking humiliated and ashamed. Keller looked at them for a moment and felt himself growing more and more excited. He knew that he was going to have to get into somebody in a big hurry or he would blow up.
"On your feet!" he ordered and the two girls jumped off the floor instantly. They stood, looking at the floor before them.
"Take them back to their cells," Keller ordered Vicky. Keller looked at the other members of the league and he could see that they weren't about to disagree with him. This wasn't the way it had been planned, but they were as horny as he was now. He could see that in their eyes. He looked at Milt, who had the first choice tonight, and Milt, without hesitation, pointed to Jo Ann Barnes, the prom queen. Jo Ann shrank back in silence.
"Fine," Keller said. He turned to Vicky. "Let her out," he ordered. "And that one, too." He pointed to Diane Blair. "What about you, Al?" Al pointed to Holly Allison, the remaining of the three. "Let those three women out," Keller said. "Now!" In a moment the three girls were standing before the men. Keller didn't want to waste time with any formal disrobing now. He was eager to get Diane into a bedroom and fuck her until she screamed. Roger looked as horny as the rest of them, but he would have to settle for some other girl. To Keller's surprise, he chose the older woman, the teacher. Vicky ran over and let the woman out of her cage, and she went to Roger, looking white faced and terrified. But she didn't offer any resistance. They were well on their way to breaking these girls in, Keller thought. Well on their way ...
Chapter 10
Valerie Sheffield was sure that her fear showed in her eyes and in her bearing, there was no use trying to hide it. These men must know that she was frightened. Anyone but an idiot would be frightened after watching that show out there. It was obvious that they had intended to kill those girls before they had started. She supposed they would end up killing the full quota they had announced in their little kangaroo court. Whether Valerie herself was on the list to be disposed of, she didn't know. She supposed that they were planning on keeping the most attractive ones alive, but which they would consider the most attractive was impossible to guess. Valerie didn't allow herself any self-deceit. Her age was against her, they obviously liked them young and tender, and bringing her along had been purest chance. Her only chance of staying alive, and she didn't suppose it was a very good one, lay in satisfying this bastard as completely as she could. She was a married woman, she thought, and that gave her something the other girls didn't have: a whole lot of experience. She didn't suppose there were very many virgins in that room; even so, they were too young to have piled up many hours in a man's arms. Their youth would make them more vulnerable, less likely to give their all in a situation like this. They would be more horrified at things, and less likely to respond fully.
Not that Valerie wasn't scared. She was more frightened, and more disgusted, than she had ever been in her life. But she was determined to stay alive, and so was equally determined to give this son of a bitch what he wanted.
It was obvious that he was horny as a man could get right at the moment. There probably wouldn't be much in the way of preliminaries. That would help; that would make it easier for her.
The young man led her into a bedroom, but a bedroom such as Valerie had never seen before except in the movies. The place was dominated by a huge canopied bed that stood at one end of the room, the head directly against the wall. The bed was draped and covered in red silk, and it was the sexiest-looking bed she had ever seen. It was on a little platform, a kind of dais a step above the rest of the floor. Just looking at it made Valerie more excited, and a little more nervous. She could feel the sweat on her forehead and dripping down her body under the remains of the formal dress she had worn to the dance last night. Was it last night? She had lost track of the time, and she supposed that that was part of the reason for keeping the prisoners below ground. The more disoriented they were, the less likely they would be to attempt an escape. It was good psychology.
"You're filthy," the man said to her. He said it as though he were accusing her, as though it were her fault that she hadn't been able to bathe. She supposed she could have cleaned up in that little cage they had locked her in, but she hadn't thought about personal cleanliness. She hadn't been able to think of anything except fear and escape. Valerie felt a flash of anger at the man's accusing tone, as though he were intimating that she was less than careful about her person. But she choked down the anger. He was a swine, she told herself. She would have to learn to put up with worse than this if she intended to live through it, determined to outlive this bastard and his friends.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said.
"Sorry doesn't mean shit," the man said. "Get your ass in there and clean up. After this, keep yourself clean and attractive at all times. You never know when one of the members might want to fuck you."
The use of the language shocked Valerie, but she fought down the feeling, as she had the anger a moment before. The man knew better than to use that kind of word in front of a lady, she was certain. He had been brought up better than that. He had the look and the speech pattern of an educated person. He was deliberately trying to humiliate her. Well, she was damned if she intended to give him a rise.
"Yes, sir," she said, and hurried off to the door he had indicated. The bathroom was as luxurious and as sexy as the bedroom. It was walled and ceilinged in mirrors. The shower was bigger than some rooms she had been in, and there were nozzles all over it, pointing down from above, and up from below. When she had adjusted the temperature of the water and stripped herself to the skin, she stepped inside and let the perfumed warmth soak through her. It was the most luxurious feeling she had ever known. After the tension and the fear and the dirt of the past hours, it was almost too good a feeling. She felt herself relaxing, though she doubted that she would ever feel completely relaxed again until she was out of this madhouse and back in the real world.
She soaped herself lavishly, then suddenly felt a stab of fear-the man out there might get mad at her if she took too long. She wasn't here to enjoy herself, she was here to make herself more enjoyable to him.
She rinsed off the soap hurriedly and turned the taps off. She padded across the bathroom to a cabinet where she guessed the towels were kept. They were stacked neatly inside, all thick and soft and dry. She toweled herself off and then hung the towel over a rack on the wall. She looked down at the pile of clothing on the floor. She couldn't believe that he wanted her to dress again in her old clothes after washing the dirt off her body. But there was nothing else for her to put on, no robe or anything. The thought of going out there naked and just walking into the room where he was waiting for her was horrible. Still, she supposed he would like it. And she would have to undress for him anyway.
Valerie steeled herself and walked to the door. It took considerably more courage than she had ever been called upon to demonstrate before but, by thinking of other things, she managed to open the door and walk into the bedroom.
He was standing there in his shorts. All of his other clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, next to a chair in the corner. On second look, Valerie noticed that he was still wearing his shoes and socks. She was amazed that she was noticing such things right at the moment, because she felt on the verge of becoming violently sick. State of shock, she supposed. She hadn't been naked in front of any man except her husband or her doctor since she had been married, and she felt as though she would faint at any moment. She was certain she would pass out if he looked at her with some kind of knowing smile or something.
But of course he did look at her with an obscene grin, and she didn't pass out, though she felt herself sway dangerously for a moment.
He came toward her with slow, measured steps, and Valerie felt her equilibrium slip away from her. She didn't know how she managed to stay on her feet, because she didn't have a sense of balance any more. She had never been so terrified before.
"Oh, God, if he touches me, I'll lose my mind!" she thought wildly.
He stopped right in front of her and reached out slowly, as though he were savoring the moment more than the touch itself. He was giving her that same twisted smile, that same look of sadistic pleasure, and she realized with a shock that the horror he was able to raise in her was more important to him than the physical pleasure he might get from the act they were about to commit together.
Then his fingers touched her waist, and Valerie felt her knees go watery under her. She knew she couldn't stay on her feet much longer, and she found herself actually wishing that he would order her to the bed. His hands were hot on her skin as he pulled her forward. She found the strength not to resist him, and her body came against his yieldingly. His body was hard and bristly with hair. Valerie's breasts mashed against his chest, and she felt his heartbeat. Her breath was hot in her throat, and she couldn't seem to even it out. She was going to scream in a moment. She was certain that she was going to scream. And then he would get mad at her and she would be shot.
"Get hold of yourself, you little idiot," she told herself. This was the most critical moment of her life, and she knew that if she didn't find the strength to get through it, this could well be the last night of her existence.
His mouth covered hers, and she forced herself to keep her mouth open, to receive and welcome his tongue. It was a horrid and degrading experience, because she was putting up with it out of fear and not because she wanted to. Still, she couldn't help noticing that the man's breath was pleasantly masculine, with just a trace of expensive whiskey on it. She returned his kiss, forging some kind of passion, forcing her body to bulge against him when she wanted more than anything else to pull clear of him, to spit and scream in his face and run out of the room. This was going to take even more guts than she had imagined. She had to put up with it, she told herself. She had to give him everything he wanted, right now. It wouldn't last forever. It would be over soon enough, she thought. He was only a man, after all. He couldn't last all night.
His hands moved over her body with casual familiarity, as though he were her husband and had been making love to her for years. It was the kind of casualness that comes from a right being exercised. He thought he had a right to her, Valerie thought. The bastard took her presence for granted, and his right to her favors, too. The thought sent a flash of anger through her that, for any instant, made her forget her fear of him. But it was quickly past. She was a fool to be surprised at his attitude. What kind of men would kidnap innocent and helpless females for this kind of purpose in the first place? Obviously they weren't the type who would worry overmuch about the rights of their victims. She had better get used to thinking of herself as a slave if she were going to survive.
A dissident slave, she thought. Even a recalcitrant slave down deep inside. Still, a slave ...
He broke off the kiss and looked down at her from his superior height with a grin that told her he knew what she was feeling, and he was enjoying it. "You bastard," Valerie thought. "You're going to pay for this. You and your friends."
"Go turn down the bed." It was phrased as a command, not a request, and nothing in the tone of his voice softened the phrasing. Valerie bobbed her head in a gesture of obedience and walked to the bed. She walked slowly because she couldn't make herself hurry to do something like this. The moment was drawing near, she knew, when she would be in bed with this young barbarian. She would be with him in the most intimate sense then, and there would be nothing to protect her, nothing between their bodies. He would be in her. He would own her for sure then, possess her, and defile her.
She plodded to the bed and turned the covers down, folding them at the top right corner.
"All the way down," he ordered. She looked at him sitting in the chair in the corner, eyeing her with the same amused look as before. "All the way down," he said again. "We're not going to need any covers to keep us warm. You're going to be covered with something nice and warm and cozy."
Valerie caught a sob half-formed and stifled it. The son of a bitch! He was torturing her deliberately. He didn't have her here just because it was a way of making sure he could go to bed with her whether she liked it or not. If he could have a power conferred on him at this moment to make her fall in love with him, he'd turn it down. He wanted her to loathe him. The insight was sharply etched in her mind now. She could expect nothing from this bastard, or probably from his friends either, except sadism and brutality. And when the novelty wore off, they would decide to replace her. And then they would get their last little kick by killing her. Death was at the end of her imprisonment, she was certain of that. And if the death came from the gun she had seen used on some of the girls, she would be lucky. Because when things got boring around here, they'd probably start thinking up more advanced and ingenious-and slow-means of killing their victims. So if she wanted to get out of this place, she thought, it would have to be soon, before they decided that she was no longer worth keeping. For the time being, the order was still obedience, but she would have to take the first decent chance for escape, no matter where it came from.
She pulled the covers and top sheet all the way down to the foot of the bed, folding them neatly. The bed was so huge she could have left the covers a quarter of the way up from the bottom and still left them room to spread out.
The thought sent an ugly picture across her mind, and she stifled it quickly. She wouldn't think of that, she told herself. She would just do it when the time came, but she wouldn't make it any worse by thinking about it.
She stood near the bed and looked at the young boy sprawled in the chair. She didn't know what he wanted her to do next. She had the feeling that he knew she was uncertain, and was enjoying the moment.
"Come here," he said finally. When she started forward at the same plodding gait that had taken her to the bed, he snapped, "Get your ass in gear!" Valerie forced her legs to hurry. "Get down on your knees," he ordered when she was standing in front of him. She dropped to a kneeling position without giving herself time to think about it. If she thought about it she'd just get mad, she thought. And this was no time for that.
He held out one foot and nodded toward it. It was obvious what he wanted. Valerie untied the shoe and pulled it off, then busied herself with the sock.
"My name is Roger Goodman," he said to her while she was working. "In case you didn't get it earlier. I figure you won't want to fuck and suck for a man until he's taken the trouble to introduce himself at least."
Once again the foul language almost got a rise out of her, as well as the crude insolence of the statement. But Valerie managed to smile at him. "That's very thoughtful of you, sir," she said. He grinned.
"Oh, I'm a very thoughtful guy." He was still holding up the foot she had just undressed for him. "Give me a kiss," he said. "Kiss my foot."
"Yes sir." She kissed the ball of his foot quickly, not thinking about it, hoping that the cursory peck would satisfy him, would be enough of a symbol for his ego.
"Oh, now, you can do better than that, baby," he said. "You can give me a better kiss than that. I hope you're not all that frigid with your mouth and your tongue, because I plan to make use of that part of you." He was grinning more broadly than ever now. "Come on, pig," he said. "Give me another kiss on the foot. Slip your tongue between my toes this time."
It took a bit of willpower to keep from telling him to go to hell, but she thought of the dead bodies outside. She knew that his sadistic nature would probably revel in any act of disobedience, because it would give him a reason to punish her, to break her down and make her do what he had demanded. So she managed another smile. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. She took his foot in her hand, a light, caressing grasp and, holding it still, slipped her tongue between his first and second toe. She could taste flesh and sweat, and for a mo-men she had the horrible feeling that she would retch all over him. But she fought down the urge, held the kiss long enough so that he could not think she was hurrying it, and then smiled up at him again. "I hope that was better, sir."
"Yeah, that was nice. It tickled." He dropped his foot to the floor, extended the other one. Valerie stripped it, and then, because she could see the order forming on his lips, she anticipated him by kissing him again the same way. He looked pleased with her. "You're a natural," he said. "You really want to stay alive, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. But it's more than that. I'm glad I finally found a real man, a man who knows how to treat a woman."
She hoped desperately that it was the right ploy, that he would believe her, and that he would like the idea. He might decide that it was a bore tormenting a woman who liked being tormented. But he looked at her with new excitement, and she knew that the ploy had worked. The gamble had paid off.
Roger stood up and towered over her. She found herself looking straight at his genitals, and she was certain that he was going to order her to French him. She steeled herself for the encounter, trained her muscles for the act that would take the organ in her hands and bring her mouth against it. But instead he walked toward the bed.
"Come on," he said. "Let's do this where it's supposed to be done."
Valerie hurried to the bed, able now to hurry. She was amazed at the amount to which she had already adapted herself to the new rules of living. She saw him looking at her as she approached, felt his eyes caress every curve of her body. She started to crawl onto the bed, but Roger grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He kissed her once more, slithering his tongue over hers until she shuddered with a mixture of physical delight and emotional horror. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back lightly until she sat on the edge of the bed. She scooted onto it fully, slid to the middle and lay down, waiting for him. The way he looked at her sent a thrill of excitement through her, and gave her a picture of how she must look lying there on the bed, her arms and legs akimbo, her body an open book. She flushed again, and felt herself tremble. Suddenly she was humiliated all over again, as she had been when she had first stepped into his presence, naked.
Roger lowered himself to the bed, and she felt the mattress sway under his weight. The feeling gave her a sudden surge of panic.
"Get a hold of yourself," she thought. "What the hell's the matter with you? You've been to bed with men before." But the difference was that she had always chosen to go to bed with them before. This was the first time she had ever been forced to share a bed with a man, and she hadn't realized that the feeling inside her could be so different. It wasn't the same at all. It was the difference between lovemaking and rape; and rape, she thought, really was the most horrible thing a man could do to a woman.
He came near, sliding across the cool silk sheet, until she felt the heat of his body against her own. Then his fingers slid over her, sending ripples of feeling through her. She wasn't certain how much of the feeling was fear and how much a purely tactile pleasure, but it didn't matter. She was having trouble breathing, and she was beginning to doubt, for the first time, that she would be able to get through this thing. She was certain now that long before he actually inserted himself in her she would be screaming and fighting him.
It would have worked, she thought, if he had only stayed as horny and turned on as he had been when they had come into the bedroom. But she had taken too long showering and coming back to him; he had had time to cool down a bit, time to think about it and get himself under control and now he was going to make it last. He was going to work her over good now, and Valerie didn't think she could take that.
One of his hands closed over a breast, and she trembled and almost jerked away from him. He was squeezing and kneading the breast lightly, with obvious pleasure, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. Her muscles were tight, and she realized for the first time that they had been taut since she had come into the room with him, even through the shower, and she was beginning to ache all over from it.
His hands were hard and strong, with calluses from work. He was an attractive enough man at least. She told herself that she was lucky she hadn't gotten the fat one-that would have made it worse. But she didn't feel lucky at all.
Roger's body was partially on hers, and she felt his weight and the bristliness of his body hair. She forced her arms to encircle him, held him lightly. She couldn't bring herself to do any more than that. His cock was stiff and hard against her belly, and she was suddenly aware that it was damp with its own juices. She realized with sudden horror that she was damp, too, that her pussy had secreted its juices, had made her ready. She was feeling real desire now, and that made it worse, made her hate herself as much as she hated him. She would never be the same again, she knew. Even if she got out of this place, she'd never be able to look at herself with quite the respect she had enjoyed before. And how would she be able to face her husband? It was the ultimate rape, she thought, the rape not only of her body and her emotions, but the rape of her self-respect, and she intended to kill the son of a bitch for it.
"Open up, baby," he said, and she felt her legs spread for him. It was an automatic reaction, a response to the order that seemed to bypass her consciousness. It was as though she had reacted from simple reflex.
Valerie felt all the more vulnerable with her legs spread and her body open to him. She knew that he was going to get into her now, and that she wouldn't do anything to resist him; she wished that she would pass out. Things seemed to waver in front of her for a moment, and she thought for that instant that she might be lucky enough to faint, but the moment passed, and consciousness held her in a stubborn grip.
His hand moved down between them. She felt his knuckles slip over her belly and down through the tangle of her pubic hair, and then she knew that he had taken his prick in his hand.
"Now!" Valerie thought helplessly, "now! He's going to do it now!"
Then Roger raised himself above her, and his cock was fumbling at the lips of her pussy. She held herself still with the greatest willpower she had ever had to muster, and then he was slipping into her. She felt the hard cock slide greasily into her body, and the feeling sent an undeniable thrill of intense pleasure through her. She reacted to the pleasure, her body tightening and trembling, and goose flesh standing up all over her. She saw a glimpse of his face, grinning tightly at her with the knowledge that he had conquered her, made her like what she was honor bound to hate; she hated him all the more for that knowledge and that deliberate glimpse of superiority.
He lay atop her for a while, his cock throbbing in her, not moving but just enjoying the connection of their bodies, and the possession of her. Valerie lay under him as still as she could, as though by not moving, by not allowing any friction to make its sparks of feeling in her, she could minimize the possession, and the fact that he was inside of her.
Then he began to move. He worked slowly, savoring the friction, sliding his cock into her and withdrawing it, with a pleasure that increased with each second. She could feel the tautness of his body over her, and the heat of his quickening breath against her face. He slid the cock in and out, in and out, slowly, until she felt the pleasure building up in her to an undeniable point, and she knew that her arms were tightening about him. She almost fought the movement, almost forced her muscles to relax, but she thought that if he didn't win this little contest, he would win a worse one and kill her. She had to let him win. The only way she could win against him was by surrendering, there was nothing else for her.
Once she had realized that, she knew that the answer was to give herself over to the pleasure completely. That was the best way to get through this experience without making him mad at her. She had thought, earlier, that her superior sexual experience would give her an advantage over the other girls, but now she abandoned that thought. The only way she could reap any benefit from her experience was by giving this boy, and his friends, more of what they wanted-pleasure and ego food-than the young girls could That was the only way she could stay alive, and she was determined to stay alive no matter what.
She raised her legs and wrapped them around Roger's waist, clamping him to her tightly, and she felt his cock go harder in her, as action excited him more. She was going to give him the hottest piece of tail he had ever had, she thought. She was going to burn him out, make him limp for a week. She'd show him that she was more valuable, than all those teen-agers put together.
She began to pump away, working with him, working beyond him, turning him on. She was an old hand, she thought, she should be able to teach this kid a thing or two. Anyway, she had the feeling, for all his arrogance and all of his sadistic lording over her, that he hadn't had a lot of experience. Another advantage for her, she thought, if she could muster the guts to use it.
She slacked off at the right time, when he was nearing his orgasm, keeping him alive and hard and backing off just on the verge of milking the come from his cock.
He cried out with pleasure, and seemed to want her to get him past the verge, to make him come and get it over with. He was inexperienced, she thought. She continued her game, and realized that for the first time she was, in a way, in charge of things. At least until she made him come, she was the boss.
Valerie went on with her actions, working him up and letting him slip back again. Then he began to grip her arms tightly, holding to her with a furious strength until she thought her bones would snap like bread sticks. She moved her legs, sliding her feet up and down his thighs and calves to excite him. He grunted and cried out, and then she was certain that he was too close to hold back any more. She began to work her hips furiously, accelerating to the maximum rate at once, and he seemed to come apart with the buildup of pleasure, the sudden and irresistible sensation that shot through his loins.
Valerie felt the pleasure building up in her, too, increasing and filling her with the tingly sensation that meant an approaching orgasm. She thought that if only she could hit it with him, if only they could climax together, this first time, it would convince him that she was worth keeping around. She timed herself, and timed him to the extent that she could, holding him back the little bit that was still possible, but he was too close to exercise the kind of control she had had over him seconds before. She concentrated on herself, letting herself go, working her feelings up as much as she could, letting it all hang out; and then it was there, and she knew that she was right at the door to orgasm.
His come spilled into her hotly, and that drove her over the edge finally. The orgasm shook her by the scruff of the neck, commanding her with sweet tyranny, and she knew that he had hit his climax at the same time. She tightened her arms about his neck, clamping him against her there as well as at hip level, and he grunted again and the climax was over.
She felt his cock go limp in her, felt it soften and lose its life for the moment, and she was almost sad that the orgasm, the moment of sweetness, was over. Now she was once more depressingly aware of his cock directly in her. She felt a flood of shame at the pleasure she had allowed herself to drown in.
"I had to," she told herself. "It was the only way."
"That wasn't bad," Roger told her after a moment, and she could tell that he was faking. He had thought it much better than just not bad.
"Thank you, sir," she said, acknowledging the compliment as graciously as she could. She had given up a healthy measure of the illusions about herself that a person lives on in order to make him like her. It wouldn't do to lose whatever points she had made now.
"Not bad at all," he said. "In fact, I'd say it was pretty damned good." He warmed up to his subject a little, and the concession was encouraging, she admitted. It might mean that she would live a little longer, perhaps long enough to get out of here some way.
"Thank you, sir," she said again.
"Did you mean that about liking the way I treat you?"
"Well," she thought, "you've started something there, and you'd better see it through."
"Oh, yes," she said. "Every woman wants a man to dominate her, only most of them won't admit it. But I'm more honest than the rest of them. You're a real man. I guess all of you are, you and your three friends. You're all so clever, anyway. It must have taken a good deal of cleverness to figure out a way to capture so many girls and not get caught."
"Sure, it took some brains. I took care of the toughest part. I fixed up the truck, and did most of the planning. Well, the Prof did a lot of it, of course. I don't mean to imply that I did all the thinking."
"No, but I'm sure you did a lot of it. I can tell that you're a very intelligent man."
"You bet your life. That's why you're here right now instead of home with your hubby. That's why he's beating his head against a stone wall right now, wondering where you are and whether he'll ever see you again, and I'm dicking you."
"I know," she said. "I admire that kind of thinking in a man." She wanted to claw him to death for talking that way about her husband, but she would put up with that as well as the rest if it was necessary. She reached down and took his cock in her fingers, trying to get him to think of something else. She didn't want to take a chance on losing her temper. He grinned at her.
"Goddamn, you really are eager, aren't you?"
"Of course." She made her voice breathy and sexy.
"Well, I'll be glad to oblige you, honey. Just as soon as I get rested up a little. Right now, I've got about as much chance of getting a hardon as you have." He laughed and she laughed with him, pretending that the joke was funny. Roger curled up against her and closed his eyes.
She lay there for a long time, waiting for him to fall asleep before she moved. She found his touch disgusting, but she didn't want to offend him by pushing him off while he was still awake. Finally, when his breathing had been slow and measured for a long time, she disengaged herself from him.
"What ... Where ... ?" His voice was thick and slurred, on the edge of sleep.
"I'm just going to the bathroom, darling," she said, thinking fast.
"Mmmm." She wasn't sure whether he had ever heard her. She got out of bed and went into the bathroom, just in case.
In the bathroom Valerie looked around for a moment. She decided to wash up and try to make herself a little more comfortable. She felt sticky and filthy after the sexual contact she had just had. Funny, she thought, that she never felt that way with her husband. She bent over and picked up the dress she had dropped on the floor and folded it, though it was beyond salvage, then put it on the top of the toilet seat. She went to the wash basin and started to wash her hands, then noticed that there was a glass sitting on the shelf under the medicine cabinet. The thought that it called forth sent adrenalin through her veins, and started her heart pounding wildly.
Could it work? It was a long chance, but she had promised herself that she would take the first good chance that came along; this would have to be good enough. She might not get another one. She was certain that this place would be her grave if she didn't do something to escape. If she didn't make it, she would only be trading time for a chance.
Valerie picked up the glass and wrapped it in a towel, twisted the towel around three times to make it glass proof and to muffle the sound further. She looked behind her to be certain that the door was closed, then, with a supreme effort of will, swung the towel over her shoulder and down against the wash basin. She swung hard, and heard the glass break inside the towel.
There were several long shards. She picked the longest one that ended in a point. It was from the top of the glass, so she had a nice, non-cutting edge by which to hold it.
He might be awake, or at least partially awake, and she needed something to hide the glass from view. She picked up her dress, hung it over her arm, and made certain the piece of glass was concealed by it.
She gave a lot of thought to whether or not she should flush the toilet. If she did, there was a possibility that the sound would waken him. But on the other hand, if he was already awake, he might think it strange if she didn't.
She decided not to do it. If he asked, she could say that she had come in just to clean up.
She walked back into the bedroom quickly, working at not looking at Roger. Her heart was pumping like crazy, and her legs felt weak and soft under her. She glanced toward the bed finally and saw that he was asleep. Just then he shifted, opened his eyes and looked at her, and she almost fainted.
"What are you doing?" His voice was still thick.
"I just washed up a little for you, honey," she said. He closed his eyes again. Valerie walked to the bed and put the dress on a chair next to it. She sat on the edge of the bed, then lay down. She thrust her hand up under the pillow, hiding the glass in case he should look at her. He slept soundly.
"All right," she said in her mind, "all right."
He was lying on his back, with his throat exposed. Valerie could see a light stubble on the skin, and she thought for a moment. She was about to kill a man. She was about to do murder. She felt fear, and nervousness, but nothing that seemed the least bit like the forebodings of remorse. He had it coming. He deserved far worse than the quick and almost painless death she had planned for him.
She would have to be quick, she thought, before the bastard woke up and wanted to do some more screwing. She pulled the shard of glass out from under the pillow. It glittered in the light, and she could see her fingerprints all over it.
She held it up over his throat for just a moment, gathering courage. He opened his eyes just a little as she thrust it down, and for one horrible instant she thought that she had waited too long, that she had blown it. But then the glass touched his skin, stopped for a moment at the resistance, and penetrated.
She had aimed the point to cut through his windpipe and his jugular vein. She bunched her shoulders and put her weight behind the thrust, and the glass penetrated so far she felt her fingers enter the blood and heat of his throat. It was a revolting sensation, but at the same time she felt a wild exaltation, a triumph such as she had never felt before.
Blood spurted up like an artesian well, spattering his body and hers, and she drew back instinctively. Roger came awake instantly, and his hands clawed at the air for a moment. He looked at nothing in particular, and his mouth flopped open like a fish's as he tried to breathe, tried to scream. But he couldn't; the cutting of his windpipe had deprived him of the air for either of those actions.
He looked at her wildly, and she drew back just as he made a vengeful grab for her. Then he tried to get to his feet. He was going for help, she supposed, but there was no help for him now; he wouldn't even get as far as the door. She stood next to the bed watching him for a moment, and then started forward, just in case he got farther than she expected. But he dropped to the floor before he was halfway across the room. He lay there for a while, flopping around like a landed tuna, and then he stopped moving.
She took a long time to work up the nerve to approach him. He was undoubtedly dead, but she couldn't manage to convince herself that it was safe until he had lain still for a long time.
She picked up the bloody piece of glass from the bed where it had dropped. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it had served her pretty well so far ...
The big room in the basement was still fully lighted, and she saw that all the girls, except for the three princesses who had been chosen by the other men, were still locked in their cells. Valerie walked across the room to where Vicky was locked. The girl looked at her wide-eyed.
"Where are the keys?" Valerie asked softly.
"What?"
"The keys, idiot!" she hissed. "What did you do with them?"
"I gave them to Milt."
"Milt. He's the fat one?"
"Yes, that's right. What are you ..."
"Which room is he in?"
"He's in that one." She pointed to one of the doors. She still seemed dazed, and couldn't seem to take her eyes off the blood that had spattered all over Valerie. She had been conditioned, Valerie thought, to obey the orders of anyone who spoke to her in a decisive manner. Valerie didn't know what the bastards had done to the poor girl, but it was done well, too well.
"Keep your mouth shut," Valerie said. "If you make a peep, I'll kill you." She was certain that she was taking the right tack with the girl, and she shrank back as Valerie had expected.
"Yes, ma m."
The other girls were watching Valerie expectantly. She wished she could do something to help them, but she had to have those keys first. She was glad that they were in Milt's hands. She had the definite feeling that he was the least effectual of the lot.
She walked to the door the girl had indicated, stopped and stood there for a moment, drawing her determination to the fore.
Valerie wondered whether he would be asleep like Roger had been. She wished she had some way to conceal the glass, but the best she could think of right now was just to hold it behind her. Anyway, the blood on her would be a tip-off, and she didn't have the slightest intention of going back to wash it off now.
She tried the door, found it unlocked. It opened quietly, and she saw that the room beyond was brightly lit. A girl was lying sprawled on the bed, with her hands balled into fists, while Milt lay atop her, jugging and prodding and grunting his delight. Valerie saw the keys lying on a chair in the far corner. She had a moment's temptation to run and grab them, but she was afraid he might see her, busy as he was. She walked up to the bed, with the piece of glass held tightly in her hand. Milt grunted loudly as he hit his climax, and the girl under him let out a pitiful sound. Then he lay on her, flaccid and relaxed. The girl looked as though she would like to push him away but didn't dare.
"I know just how you feel, sweety," Valerie said to herself.
Valerie walked up to the side of the bed, and just then Milt looked straight at her. His eyes were vapid with sexual satiety, and for a moment he didn't seem to notice her. Then his eyes lighted and he stiffened. She was standing right next to him by that time, and she reached out and tried to clamp a hand over his mouth. He let out a yell and raised a flabby arm to fight her.
The girl under him was a quicker thinker than Valerie had dared to hope for, she reached up and grabbed Milt's mouth, gripping it hard. Valerie jammed the shard of glass forward into his side, hoping that the shock of a wound, no matter how superficial, might weaken him. He was obviously in pretty sloppy physical condition, so they had a chance against him, the kind of chance they wouldn't have had against the big Negro.
He let out a muffled cry as the glass dug into his flesh, and his head craned back. His throat was revealed to her, and Valerie jammed the glass up into it.
It was a quick, uncontrolled stab, and lacked the direction of the jab that had killed Roger. Still, it ripped into his throat and blood came spurting out. The girl almost let out a scream before she caught herself. She was a resourceful girl, thought Valerie, and wondered whether she would have been able to do as well under the same circumstances.
She pushed the glass up into Milt's throat, probing with desperate speed. She felt the windpipe as the glass sliced it in two. The muffled screams turned to silence.
Valerie grabbed the girl, tugged at her and got her free, ignoring the helpless boy, who rolled off her, clawing at his torn throat.
"Which one are you?" Valerie asked. She was new at Porter High School and didn't know all the girls yet.
"Jo Ann Barnes," she said. Her voice was shaky, and she seemed to have trouble keeping her eyes off Milt.
"All right, Jo Ann, you've been great so far. You have to keep it up. All our lives depend on it. Can you?"
"Yes, ma'm."
"Come along." Valerie grabbed the keys off the chair and headed back into the big room. She ran to the nearest cell and unlocked it. The girl inside looked at her for a moment, then ran out of the cell as Valerie already headed for the next one. The keys were in order, she found; now that she had the right one, she would be able to move straight down the line. Then she thought of something. She counted the cells and the keys, took the last few keys off the ring and handed them to Jo Ann.
"Go on over there and start with that cell," she said. "I think this is the key."
In a few minutes they had all the cells open. The girls were milling around, and some of them were crying with relief. Valerie signaled to Jo Ann, and they gathered the girls together in the middle of the room.
"We're not out of here yet," she said. She looked at the three girls who had been here longest, the ones who had served as lackeys to their captors during the kangaroo court.
"What kind of place is this?" she asked.
The redheaded girl answered: "It's an island. There isn't any way off. And they have killer dogs all over the place."
"We'll worry about the dogs and getting off when the time comes. Right now we have to kill or disable the two who are still able to hurt us. Which rooms are they in?"
The girl looked back at her but didn't speak.
"The old guy went in there," one of the other girls said. "And the big, tall black went into that room."
"What's the matter with you?" Valerie asked the girl who had refused to tell her. "Don't you want to get away from here?"
"It's impossible, I tell you. If we try to get away, we'll only ... " The girl's voice was starting to rise, and just as Valerie was getting ready to shut her up, Jo Ann reached out and slapped her across the face.
"Now you listen to me," Valerie said. "I've managed to get this far, and I'm not going to have you bitch things up. Apparently these sons of bitches have you sold on the idea that they're some kind of supermen. Well, let me warn you- and this goes for you as well," she said, glancing at the other two girls, "if you try to foul us up, I'm going to kill the three of you. That's not a threat, girls, it's a promise. You don't have to do anything to help us, but you'd better not do anything to tip them off, or I'll cut your lily-white throats."
Arlene, Vicky and Cheryl looked impressed. They had been cowed before and were easy to cow again, but that didn't mean that they could not be dangerous. Once conditioned to fear the men who had captured them, they would revert to that pattern at any moment. Even now they seemed more torn and nervous than cowed. They were afraid of both sides in this encounter, and they didn't know which way to turn. Valerie realized that things would have to go fast to keep the girls from thinking too much about their position.
"All right," she said. "Now we're going to go after the Negro first. He has the gun, and it's best to take him out of action." There was a shuffling among the girls. They were scared of him, almost as scared as the three who had been here all along. The killing of Carol and Sue had been meant as conditioning, and it had been skillfully applied. "I don't want anyone backing out," Valerie said coldly. "I've already killed two persons today, and what I just said to those three goes for the rest of you, only more so. They've been here longer than the rest of us and have some excuse for cowering in a corner. But the rest of you had better be with me, or you're against me. And I'll kill you." She looked around at them. They all dropped their gaze to the floor except one, a short blonde in a green formal.
"I think we ought to make a break for it. There isn't any reason to face them. We're out of the cells, and if we just run for it now, they won't be able to chase all of us."
"The hell they won't." It was Jo Ann who spoke up and Valerie was grateful for the moral support. "You heard what the girl said, this is an island. And they have killer dogs. They may have other things set up, some kind of booby traps. If we try to make a break now, they'll have us at their mercy. With no way for us to get out of here, they'll just arm themselves and hunt us down one or two at a time. If we try to leave the house, we'll have to face the dogs. Our only hope is to kill them or disable them right now. Then we'll be able to keep to the house while we figure out some way to get out of here. And if anyone still isn't sure, I stand with her," she said, pointing to Valerie. "She's done pretty well so far, and I don't think there's anyone here who could take her place as commander in chief. So if you're against obeying her orders, you're also against me. And I'm against you." She looked belligerently around at the girls, and Valerie felt like hugging her. It was almost comical, she was so tiny, and so determined-looking. But she managed to convince the girls that their best bet lay in following orders.
"All right," Valerie said. "Now, I think the best thing for us to do is try a direct frontal assault, go into the room at a run. It will take him some time to realize what's going on, and more time to pick up his gun, if he's got it at all. With any luck, we'll be able to get to him before he can use it. And our numbers will give us the advantage in a hand-to-hand struggle."
"Sure, but what if he does manage to get his gun into action?" the girl who had objected before demanded. "One of us dies."
"Some of us have already died tonight, and for no reason other than that there were too many of us for the available cells. There are still too many of us." She let the words sink in for a moment. "I'll be in front," she said. "If he manages to get off a shot, I'll probably be the one to get it. I don't know how good he is, but that's a very small gun he's using, and unless he manages to hit the brain, the heart or the spine, he's not likely to kill with it. Not right away, anyway, and we'll have the house, and whatever medical facilities are available. Now, I'm not going to argue the point any more. Our best hope lies in numbers, so we're all going in there."
She turned to the door of the bedroom in which the big black was rutting with his prisoner. She turned away from the girls in a deliberate dismissal, reducing their objections to something inconsiderable. They followed her readily to the door.
She tried the doorknob and found the door unlocked. She pressed her ear to the door but there was no sound. The doors were expensive, well built, and practically soundproof. Valerie pushed the door a bit, then suddenly shoved it harder, all the way open, letting it slam against the wall.
The Negro was on the bed with the girl, who was staring at the ceiling with dead eyes, next to him. Valerie wondered what he had been doing to her but she didn't waste time thinking about it. She started forward at a run, and the other girls came along behind her. The Negro looked at her wide-eyed for a moment, and she realized that she must be a pretty frightening sight, with the blood caked on her. Then he made a grab under the pillow, and his hand came out with the gun. He brought it around quickly, and she saw with a sinking feeling that the gun was going to line up on her before she could reach the bed. She could only hope that it wouldn't be a killing shot.
Then the girl next to him grabbed at his arm, and he had to fight. It was no contest any more as Valerie grabbed his gun hand, and the other girls swarmed all over him, crawling and grasping at his arms and legs. He let out a yell, and someone clamped a hand over his mouth.
Valerie finally managed to wrest the gun from him. She turned it in her hand, grabbing it by the butt. "Hold him still," she ordered. Apparently realizing what she intended doing, he started to fight harder. For an instant it actually looked as though he were going to get away from the girls, but they caught on quickly and managed to press him down again.
Valerie yanked the pillow out from under his head and pressed the muzzle of the gun against his temple. He was fighting with all his might, rolling his head around to keep her from getting a good aim.
"Keep his head still," she said. Some of the girls seemed to blanch at the realization of what Valerie was going to do, but they didn't refuse. Valerie waited while feminine bodies centered their weight on the man's head, holding it still. Then she pressed the muzzle against his temple. The head didn't move an inch. "Be careful not to get in the path of the bullet," she said. The girls shifted a little, and the one lying next to him sat up. He tried to say something, and she was certain he was begging for his life. She smiled coldly at him. He was about to get what he deserved, a lot less than he deserved, actually, but something for what he had done.
Valerie covered her hand and the gun with the big pillow to muffle the sound as much as possible. She pressed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
There wasn't even a click. She looked at the Negro, then at the girls, and pulled the gun out from under the pillow to examine it. There was a silver-colored button on the left side, near her thumb, and she saw that it was designed to slide up and down on the frame of the gun. She looked very closely, and saw that under the button was stamped the word, "Safe." She pushed the button down and felt a click. The word disappeared, and the word "Fire" appeared over the button. She smiled at the Negro again, and placed the muzzle against his temple. She covered the gun with the pillow and paused a moment, letting him feel it coming. She wished there were some way to shoot him slowly, this was so much less than he deserved. She pressed the trigger, tightening her finger slowly. She knew he could feel the shift in the pressure of the muzzle against his head. He made one last effort to throw off the girls, and then the trigger released.
The report wasn't very loud, with the pillow muffling it. She felt the gun buck a little in her hand, and felt his body go slack. Some of the girls looked sick, but others looked elated, and she knew that the strong ones were feeling the same as she was-the enjoyment of retribution and the ecstasy of freedom.
"Come on, girls," she said. "We still have one more to go."
They followed her as she ran to the bedroom in which the older man was lying. He was there, all right, but he wasn't enjoying himself as the others had been. He was out of bed, naked as a baby, and trembling. She was sure he had heard the shot, had figured out at least part of what was going on. He looked at Valerie, at her blood-caked body and at the gun in her hand, and he drew back against the wall. The girl in the bed looked up at the other women and suddenly started to laugh. There was something like hysteria in her laughter, but Valerie figured that the girl probably needed the release.
"Don't shoot," the man begged. "Please don't!" Valerie raised the pistol to take aim, and he dropped to his knees, covering his head with both arms and babbling like an idiot. She lowered the gun.
"Take him, girls," she said. "Bring him out to the big room."
They dragged him out of the bedroom, scratching and slapping at him, and he cried like a baby. In the middle of the room they forced him to his knees.
"Now," Valerie said, "I think it's time you paid for what you've been doing."
"Don't kill me," he pleaded. "Please don't kill me!"
"I don't know," Valerie said. "I'm not sure killing is the best thing for you. Perhaps it would be better to let the girls who have been here the longest decide what to do to you."
She looked up at the three girls. They looked almost thunderstruck at the sight of the man groveling there, as though their religion had been proved faulty. They had accepted the infallibility of this cowering hulk of flesh, and now they saw that they had only been bullied, and bilked.
"Well?" Valerie asked. "What do you think we ought to do to this son of a bitch?"
The girl who had spoken before against trying to escape, came forward. Her red hair was disheveled, and she looked wild, with fire leaping from her eyes.
"You little bastard!" she spat at the man kneeling on the floor. "You swine! To think I was afraid of something like you!" She kicked him, and her toe hit with unerring aim. He screamed and bent over, hugging his balls with both arms. Valerie laughed, and the other girls laughed with her. The girl who had kicked him looked as though she had done something she hadn't believed possible.
"What do you say?" Valerie asked. "Do you think we can find something more suitable for this bastard than just killing him?"
"I think so," the girl said. "I think we might be able to do that." She looked around, and Valerie noticed that she was looking at the strange devices that were spread across the floor. Her eyes landed on something that looked like the kneelers they had in Catholic churches. "Let's start with this," she said. "And then we'll move on ... "
