Take violent politics, mix in a dangerous European city like Rome and the bubbling sexual passions of a race like the Italian people, and you have the makings of a gripping and engaging novel. Arthur Merlin has mixed all of these ingredients together and came up with something even more: A strikingly candid portrait of a young Italian woman who comes to the big city from a rural community in Sardinia and rapidly loses her sexual and political innocence. Against the backdrop of violent and bloody clashes between students and police, Domenica Sotgiu is forced to work out her female destiny, sexual and physical, under difficult and unusual circumstances.
Tortured by a childhood tendency toward sexual masochism, Domenica finds herself being almost willingly abused by her fellow conspirators before being sent on a mission which is crucial to the survival of the underground group: She is to seduce and betray the honest young police captain who is battling with the subversive elements in Rome. Her success/failure in this mission forms the dramatic turning point for this exciting novel.
But Betrayed is far from a mere cops and robbers saga with political overtones. As a long-time reporter of socio-political events on the continent for major U.S. newspapers, Mr. Merlin is talking about a danger which grows more menacing with every passing year. A few days of apparently cordial conversation between Chairman Mao and President Richard Nixon in 1972 has not changed the basic determination of the Red Chinese to control the world with their brand of Marxism, and most police officials are painfully aware of the danger, despite widespread public ignorance on the subject.
The Maoist movement in the European university system began in 1968 when all of the schools of higher learning in Italy, and many in France and Germany, were closed because of Marxist agitation. Since that time, communist-led strikes, demonstrations, and riots have pushed Italy's school system closer and closer to the brink of absolute chaos. According to a report recently submitted to INTERPOL, the prognosis for the immediate future is grim for the Maoist organization in Europe is as well-financed and well-organized as ever.
What could possibly motivate essentially decent young European students to interest themselves in the violently anti-social theories of an aging oriental despot like Chairman Mao? The answer is not yet clear, despite the efforts of policemen, social workers and psychiatrists on three continents to plumb the mystery. But the fact remains what it has been ever since 1968: Communism, Chinese-style, remains a potent force in European student politics, and has even made some in-roads among American students, particularly at campuses like Berkeley and Columbia.
The reader will no doubt be struck by the subtle interplay of sex and politics in Betrayed, but it is to be hoped that the tension and pacing of this skillful novel will not obscure its underlying social message. The Thoughts of Chairman Mao are being read and discussed everywhere in the Western World, and the next university or college to explode into communist-sponsored violence might be the one in your hometown.
-The Publishers
Chapter One
Corporal Santini paused a few moments before climbing the last few steps to the village, catching his breath and looking out over the Mediterranean sea. This was undoubtably the smallest, poorest, least accessible, and most miserable village in all - of Sardinia; but unquestionably, the view from here was magnificent. Why are all the beautiful places in the world so dirt-poor? he wondered philosophically, and why can't the government spend the money to put a decent road up the side of this god-forsaken mountain so that I wouldn't have to walk every time I have to come up here?
No immediate answers to either question suggested themselves to the corporal and he sighed heavily, deciding that he would get his business over with as quickly as possible and then slip over to the village bar for a short one before wending his way back down the side of the mountain.
Santini had spent most of his life being a country policeman in rural Sardinia and he knew his people well. They were as hard as the rocky reluctant earth they coaxed into bloom every spring and not very talkative. These people handled their own problems in their own ancient ways, and when a policeman asked questions, he very seldom got any answers. They felt no particular ill-will toward the police, but Santini knew that if he and all the other policemen in Sardinia disappeared tomorrow, it would make very little difference to anyone up here in the village.
Santini knocked on a certain door, glancing one last time at the sheet of paper he held in his hand. Domenica Sotgiu, it said, an old Sardinian name, and he strained his memory, trying to remember something about the girl. The image was faded and blurred like an old photograph, but it seemed to him that Domenica had been taller than the average, and brighter, winning prizes in school. He remembered how she had looked as a little girl, black-haired and black-eyed with strong straight bones. She had become a lovely young woman, stunningly beautiful, but Santini had made it a careful practice not to stare too hard at teenage girls, attractive or otherwise. This was a land of quick lusts and sudden tempers, and misunderstandings could be fatal... she would be in her early twenties now... a student in Rome .. .
"Oh? It's you, Santini," grumbled an old man, not overly delighted at finding a policeman on his doorstep, but too proud to take the trouble to disguise his displeasure. "Come on in. We're just having coffee." The villager turned and shouted to an elderly woman in the kitchen.
"Maria, an extra cup for Private Santini!"
"Corporal Santini," interjected the policeman tiredly. His last promotion had been seven years ago, but these people were slow to learn new titles.
"Ah, yes, Corporal Santini. Listen, if it's about that pasture land, I can assure you ..."
"Mario, sit down and stop acting like a Mafia boss! This is Sardinia and we have known each other for twenty years. I have to ask you some questions about a neighbor of yours."
"All my neighbors are fine upstanding people. I haven't got a bad thing to say about anyone."
"Especially not to a policeman. Listen, this neighbor is dead, but you lived next to old man Sotgiu all your life. Do you have anything to say about him, good or bad?"
"Sotgiu! He's been dead for three years! What, did he die without asking permission from the police? He was a fine upstanding man too, even if he was a communist, and every village needs at least one communist, doesn't it? Well, he was ours!"
"Mario, I'm asking about his daughter, Domenica. You must have known her."
"Hmmmmmmm, it seems to me ... I vaguely recall..."
"Mario, she lived next door to you for seventeen years!"
"Well, yes, I do recall her. We never spoke, of course, but she and my son used to play together when they were children. Very small children, mind you."
The coffee arrived, and both men suspended their conversation, since no right-thinking man would conduct a serious discussion in the presence of a woman. Setting the steaming mugs of inky black espresso before them, Mario's wife withdrew to the kitchen, where she proceeded to listen carefully at the keyhole.
"All right, I will tell you everything," conceded the policeman, knowing that he was not going to get a word out of Mario unless he laid all his cards on the table. "Domenica is now a student at the University of Rome. We received an order from our headquarters there to check into her background. That's what I'm trying to do. Was there anything peculiar about the girl?"
"All the girls in this village are ... "
"Are fine upstanding girls, I might have guessed, but was there anything strange about Domenica?"
"Not that I can recall."
"Was she a communist like her father?"
"She tried to keep both her parents happy. I used to see her going to church on Sunday with her mother, and to party meetings on Thursday nights with her father."
"And Mario, was she a good girl?"
"What do you mean? Of course she was a good girl. All the girls in this village ..."
"Listen Mario, all little girls are good, but I want to know if Domenica was any less good than the others? I think you know what I'm talking about."
"Listen, Santini, is she in some kind of trouble?" asked the villager with a worried frown.
"I have no idea. I've told you everything I know and now I'm waiting for you to return the favor," grumbled the corporal irritably.
"Well, I take it we are speaking in confidence."
"Except for your wife listening from the kitchen, yes," responded Santini pointedly, and waited until the old man had sent his wife down to the fountain for water.
"There was one peculiar incident..." he began hesitantly. "Of course, it happened a long time ago, and you weren't involved because we took care of it up here, in our own way ..."
"Naturally," agreed Santini dryly.
"And I wouldn't mention it if you weren't pressing me so hard."
"Of course, I'll say nothing to anyone," promised the policeman, knowing full well that thumb-screws and hot coals would not pull the story out of Mario if he did not feel like talking for mysterious reasons of his own design.
"Well, it happened when the kids were all thirteen or so, my son Pancrazio and Domenica. The two of them were surprised in a barn together with two friends of Pancrazio's. It looked as if the boys had undressed Domenica and tied her up with a rope."
"Santa Maria! Did they ... uh . .. abuse her in any way?"
"No, and I don't think they were going to. When we found them they were... well, playing with her, touching her body. Pancrazio was black and blue for a month after I whipped him and so were the other boys, but no one ever mentioned it to the old man."
"I should hope not! He'd have tried to kill every one of them," commented the policeman. "She was already a woman even then as I remember, and our boys mature young."
"But it wasn't the boys fault!"
The two men looked at each other hard for a moment, Santini finally understanding why the old man had chosen to tell his old story, particularly since it reflected badly against his son.
"Why?"
"Because she told them that she wanted them to do it. It was a game she made up and she had to talk them into it. Pancrazio and the others were frightened to do it. And she took off her clothes by herself."
"I can't write any of this in a report to Rome," Santini muttered, shutting his notebook and wishing he had picked someone else to interview.
"I mention it because it struck me as strange," the old man mumbled apologetically, obviously now sorry he had opened his mouth. "But for such a smart little girl, it was a strange thing to do."
"It's all right, we'll just forget about it. Diavolo! It was almost ten years ago, and they were all children!" Santini rose to leave, but Mario persisted, grabbing his arm.
"I was one of the ones who found them, you know. I saw her naked when we came into the barn and she had small high little breasts, you know the kind, and just the beginnings of a beard between her legs ..."
"Forget about it Mario," grunted the policeman, suddenly tired with the thought of climbing all the way down to the mountain to the police station. "You're an old man now..."
"There was something else too, something Pancrazio told me ... "
"Let it go, Mario, these things are not..."
"She wanted them to hit her with the rope!"
"Forget it, Mario, it means nothing now. Nothing ..."
"It must mean something! I have thought about it for years and ..."
"Well stop thinking about it! I tell you it means nothing!"
"Nothing?"
"Nothing!"
Santini shivered when he stepped out into the street, noticing that the sun had gone behind a cloud. He decided not to stop at the bar for a drink after all, and headed down the mountain again, sorry he had come to this isolated Sardinian village.
Chapter Two
"What do you know about whores?"
It was a strange question under the circumstances. Captain Lorenzo D'Agostinelli stirred in his seat, a little nervous at being interrogated by the chief of police in this fashion. Of course, he knew about whores! After fifteen years in this line of work . ..
"Well, sir, I've arrested a few," he began hesitantly, wondering if this was the right track, but the older man shook his head irritably, lighting a cigarette and filling the drab office with a cloud of acrid yellow smoke.
"I mean, did you ever fall in love with a whore?"
"No, sir," responded D'Agostinelli, a little alarmed, hoping that his voice did not seem self-righteous. In the last fifteen years, you people have kept me so damn busy I haven't had time to fall in love with anyone, he complained to himself bitterly. Except for Maria Louisa, and even that was a mistake. A mistake I won *t make again.
"Ah, then you have something to learn," said the old man softly, his face appearing amidst the billows of smoke like an apparition. "Listen to me, did you know that cities have sexes, like people and animals?"
"No, it hadn't occurred to me." D'Agostinelli squirmed in his seat. Of course, one had to be polite ...
"You northerners are too logical," charged the chief of police. "In Milan, everything is scientific and orderly, even crime, but down here, you have a new experience ahead of you. Of course cities have sexes, just like everything else in nature! Now London is a very well-bred gentleman with all his secret vices carefully rolled up in his umbrella. And Paris is a bad-tempered beautiful young girl who looks like a virgin, but isn't. New York is male, but queer, hopelessly queer. Have you guessed what Rome is?"
The police captain looked out the windows, trying to guess. He had gone to college here, and spent a few years in the capital city a decade ago as a young lieutenant assigned to the narcotics office. Rome was somehow different from Milan, the northern city where he was born and raised, but Lorenzo had never been able to put his finger on it. And the police chief never gave him a chance to reveal his ignorance.
"Rome is a whore," the old man said slowly, as if he were reading a passage from the bible. "Rome is a street walker with athlete's feet, a hooker with the stink of sweat in her crotch. Kiss her and she spits in your face! Offer your soul and she doubles her price! Love her and she gives you the pox! She knows all the tricks, all the little teases, and a good-looking young bachelor like you is just what she's after! Don't fall in love with her, Lorenzo, or you'll wind up in the gutter!"
Captain D'Agostinelli squirmed in his chair while the old man's manic eyes beamed down on him, and for a moment he felt like objecting that he was not all that young, even if he was a bachelor. He was thirty-five, fairly young to be called down to Rome as the new head of the city's Anti-Subversive Office, but there were days, and today was one of them, when he felt old, older than the oldest whore in the business. So he contented himself with nodding politely as if he were genuinely grateful for this valuable advice.
"You are saying to yourself that the police chief has lost his mind. I can tell," said the older man, the tone of accusation in his voice grating across the smoky office. "All right, you will have to learn by yourself what Rome is all about. Now, I will tell you about the problems we have here."
Lorenzo sat forward in his seat, grateful that the monologue about whores and the sexes of cities was over. He had not achieved the rank of Vice-commissioner in the Italian National Police force by spending his time philosophizing over whether cities were masculine or feminine, but by being a hard-working, level-headed cop. Give him a job to do and he did it, honestly and efficiently, and the prisons of Milan were filled with unhappy criminals who could testify precisely how dogged a policeman he could be. Now his superiors wanted him to chase political subversives in Rome. Well, a subversive was like any other kind of criminal so far as D'Agostinelli was concerned. Standard law enforcement methods could be brought to bear and . . .
"I told you Rome was a whore," continued the chief of police, still stubbornly pursuing this same persistently sexual way of talking, "A whore who sells herself to the highest bidder. When I was a young man, I watched her sell herself to the fascists, and then to the Germans when her price was very low. When the war was over, she put on a white dress and sold herself to the Americans as if she had never known a conquerer before. Now Rome is getting ready to sell herself again, and we brought you down here to help us prevent the sale. This time it's the Chinese Communists. Chinese money is as good as any other kind, and the old whore's got hot pants for Chairman Mao ..."
D'Agostinelli listened for the better part of an hour, asking intelligent questions about the Maoist party organization in Rome and taking pertinent notes, but his heart was not really in it. All right, so the city was crawling with communists, Maoists, Stalinists, Trotskites, anarchists and assorted other revolutionaries. He would deal with them in good time, just like the car thieves in Milan. But in the meantime, he wanted to get out of this stinking office and take a walk in the sun. The police chief said that Rome was a whore, but today she looked to D'Agostinelli like a young girl, a happy chaste adolescent girl with a song in her heart and roses on each cheek ready for her first date. Tomorrow, he would lock horns with the communists. Today, he wanted to smell the air, and walk in the park, and look at the elegant long-legged Roman ladies as they strolled along the shopfronts in their provocative miniskirts.
It was late afternoon when the police chief finally released him, the time the Italians call the
Ora della passagiatta, the hour of the walk, and D'Agostinelli joined the crowd meandering through the Villa Borghese Park, finally finding an empty bench and sitting down to watch the parade. There was something different about Roman girls, he had to admit. Somehow they looked wiser, more experienced than girls in the other parts of Italy. Even the fresh-faced bosomy teenager playing tag with her boyfriend on the grass in front of him looked as if she had had a thousand lovers in the past, and would have ten thousand more before she was finished.
He lit his pipe, thinking about how he had almost said 'yes' when the police chief had asked him if he had ever fallen in love with a whore. Of course, Maria Louisa was not really a whore, in the strict legal sense of the word, since she would never have dreamed of taking a lira from any of the men she fucked. But she was a whore all the same, because she loved fucking more than a decent woman should have. And she behaved like a whore in bed, which was probably why he had fallen in love with her in the first place. He should have known from the way she responded wildly to his carnal caresses that she would do as much for any man with two balls and a cock!
D'Agostinelli dragged deeply on the pipe he held clenched between his teeth, watching the pert, curvy Roman teenager roll on the lawn, tempting and teasing her young boyfriend. The boy kept trying to roll on top of her, attempting to push his chest against her ripely thrusting young breasts, but everytime he dove in her direction, she squirmed agilely away from him, her white teeth flashing in the late afternoon sun as she laughed scornfully at his pathetic adolescent lust.
Get her in the back seat of your father's car, the policeman mentally advised the tormented boy, a violent mood suddenly sweeping over him as he realized that neither youngster was aware of his presence. Tell her she's a cock teaser and start ripping off her clothes! If she protests, use those muscles of yours! A girl big enough to have tits like those is big enough to get a proper fucking!
Feeling the irrational passionate anger rising within his lean powerfully built body, the police official stood up abruptly and walked away, sensing that he was stupidly transferring all his pent-up resentment over the business with Maria Louisa onto this poor innocent Roman girl. Did he still hate Maria Louisa? He had hated her plenty that night he had walked into her apartment an hour early for a date and found her. rolling on the floor with another man; yes, that night he had come very close to killing the two of them, but did he still hate her? It was hard to say.
The shadows were growing longer now as the sun began to slip discreetly behind the Gianicola Hill on the other side of the Tiber River, and D'Agostinelli shuddered, remembering how close he had come to homicide that night. Their date had been for nine-thirty, dinner and then a motion picture, but the case he had been working on broke earlier than expected, and he had decided to surprise her by coming early. Perhaps a little loving before dinner ...
The key worked silently in the lock, but the moment he was inside her apartment his policeman's instinct told him immediately that something was wrong. His ears picked up a low hoarse groan from the direction of the living room, and he recognized it as that special sound Maria Louisa only made in the height of passion. Moving softly on the thick carpet, he spied around the corner, and at first the blood drained from his brain as he saw what was happening. The woman he thought he loved was lying spread-eagled on the floor, her long lust-arousing thighs stretched obscenely apart and slightly bent at the knees. Maria Louisa could not see him because the view was blocked by the body of a slender young man who was crouching over her prostrate figure, his firmly muscular buttocks resting lightly on the softly cushioning spheres of her sumptuous breasts.
Instinctively, Lorenzo stayed where he was, his horror-stricken eyes sweeping over the woman's splendidly voluptuous figure, her smooth, milk-white shoulders melting down to high succulent breasts, a narrow waist, and then flat smooth plane of her stomach, before rolling like some erotic plateau into the tempting jungle of moistly tangled pubic hair between her legs. Maria Louisa's fully womanly body was rocking back and forth wildly, her hips gyrating with an impossible rhythm as she worked herself into a seething torrent of mindless passion, the same insanely erotic passion he had thought was reserved for him alone.
It would have been bad enough if she had simply been giving some stranger a clandestine pre-dinner fuck, but in another second, Lorenzo saw that she was actually giving this man something more, something she had never given to him.
She was sucking his cock.
The policeman felt his throat tighten with rage as he shifted his position slightly, just enough to see the young man's fully erect penis, long and glistening from her saliva sticking obscenely into the tight oval circle formed by the girl's all-too-willing lips. And there was no question that she was enjoying every second of it. D'Agostinelli could see her cuntal lips flowering open, clearly advertising the sheer wantonness of her lust, and the nakedly pink flesh of her vagina dilating convulsively. Mindlessly enjoying the time of his life, the young man was skewering savagely in and out of her submissively accepting mouth, each depraved thrust taking his pulsating rod farther and farther into her throat. It seemed that she had to choke, had to cry out for mercy, but Maria Louisa was making jubilant gurgling sounds which indicated she wanted nothing but more of the same brutally bizarre treatment. This incredible perversity was actually turning her on!
Lorenzo ground his teeth, finding himself momentarily immobilized by grief and horror. He wanted to break away, to storm out of the apartment and slam the door behind him so that she would know he had seen everything, but he felt rooted to the spot. His eyes bulged as he watched the woman he had been thinking of marrying press her hands against the man's buttocks, urging him to fuck even farther into the moist sanctuary of her throat. Her mouth already held a healthy seven inches of rock-hard cock, and she obviously wanted it all!
The man was racing towards an agonizing peak of desire, and Lorenzo could see the droplets of sweat on his skin as he slammed his blood-engorged cock brutally into the girl's greedily sucking mouth. She had taken one hand away from his grinding buttocks and was squeezing his testicles wildly, deliberately trying to coax the rich warm seed from his loins to come rushing up into the welcoming confines of her sucking mouth.
"I'm cumming!" he groaned suddenly, a tone of shock in his voice as if this were the first time in history it had ever happened to anyone. "Christo, I'm cumming!"
D'Agostinelli's blood began to boil with a blindly homicidal fury as he watched the young man's buttocks jerk convulsively back and forth, ramming his huge cock-head incredibly far into his girl friend's clutching throat. Maria Louisa groaned in sheer sensual joy, her cheeks blowing up like a balloon as the man's burning seed erupted lasciviously into her throat, and her Adam's apple bobbed frenziedly up and down as she greedily swallowed every burning drop of his spewing semen!
Lorenzo shook his head in the growing darkness, and turned back towards the lights of the city, not wanting to think about what had happened next. He had been crouched behind .the half opened door, fury bubbling in his veins like acid, when suddenly the room had turned almost white. Before he knew what hit him, he had found himself streaking across the open space which separated him from the two writhing bodies, screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. The young man had turned, bending at the waist like a rider in the saddle, but he never got the chance to react as the steel-enforced tip of Lorenzo's shoe smashed into his stomach just below the rib cage.
"No. .. aaaagggghhhhgggghhh!!!!" the man groaned in wanton agony, his youthful body crumpling and curling onto the floor. Ignoring Maria Louisa for a moment, the policeman hauled the stranger to his feet, seeing his once proud cock wilting with fear, and then hit him with all the might in his body, the ring on his finger opening a terrible gash in the young man's face that would take stitches to close.
"Uggghhh . . . No, please! Not again!" pleaded the now helpless victim, but Lorenzo's mind was totally paralyzed by an insane rage, and he followed up his advantage, storming after his adversary as the youth backed way in abject terror. A policeman knows how to hit people, maximizing pain and minimizing permanent damage, and D'Agostinelli cut him slowly to ribbons, body-punching like a heavy weight, and sending one bruising disfiguring blow to the face after another. When Maria Louisa's lover dropped to the floor, barely conscious, the cop kicked him solidly in the head, no longer caring much whether he killed this human being or not. The youth had groaned pitifully, tried to rise one last time, and then passed out cold, a sinister trickle of blood seeping from his split lips.
"Lorenzo!" Maria whispered in a shocked, hushed voice, coiling nakedly away from him, her body undulating like a cobra trying to back away from a mongoose. "Lorenzo . . . don't hurt me... I... I'm sorry ..." She had never looked so desirable as she did in this moment, her face gone white with fear, but her tiny brown nipples still hard and jutting with lust. Her finely tanned skin was oily with the sweat of passion, and there were still traces of the man's sticky cum clinging to the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were wide as the policeman strode toward her, but the girl's nerve had not failed completely, and she knew she had to act decisively to avoid a savage beating. The only weapon she had was sex, and she threw it at him with all her might.
"Lorenzo. .. you can do anything you want to me. .. darling..." she pleaded desperately. "I'll take you in my mouth if you want, or ... or you can fuck me in the bottom . . . anything!"
For a moment he was sorely tempted to do precisely what she had suggested, roll her over on her stomach and sodomize her, but the anger was already seeping out of him like steam escaping from a kettle. Beating up the young stranger had cleared his head, and he saw immediately that Maria Louisa was still sexually excited. She would like nothing better than a session of ass-fucking. She was a whore, pure and simple, and not worth the trouble.
Somehow he had gotten out of the apartment without committing any more mayhem, and he had never gone back. When he had put in for a transfer to get himself out of Milan and away from Maria Louisa, they had picked him to head the Anti-Subversive Office in Rome. And so he was here. A thirty-five year old bachelor without a woman in his life, and a damn few friends.
D'Agostinelli glanced tiredly at his watch.
deciding that he would skip dinner and go to bed. Tomorrow he was scheduled to take command of the new department and he would need to be at his best. Besides, he was not particularly hungry, since the memory of that last meeting with Maria Louisa had taken his appetite away, and the idea of sitting alone in some dusty restaurant did not appeal to him.
Out of the shadows came a woman, old and grossly fat. Her heavy make-up and ridiculously short miniskirt telling him immediately who she was and what she wanted. The policeman shuddered with disgust as she beckoned to him, wiggling her pendulous breasts lasciviously, and shook his head in simple refusal.
Whores! he said to himself morosely as he wandered off in the general direction of the boarding house where he had taken a shabby single room. Maybe I don't know anything about whores or women either!
I guess it's time I learned.
Chapter Three
Domenica Sotgin stood alone in the living room of Arrazzo's apartment, frightened, as she so often had been in the past, by the violence and hatred around her. This had not been her idea of communism, none of this, and what her father had taught her about the teachings of Marx was hard to reconcile with what Arrazzo was doing. As a child in Sardinia, she had been nourished on ideas of helping the peasants to win more land, cleaning up the slums, providing better schools for the children and better wages for the workers. Wasn't this what Marxism was all about?
But Arrazzo was talking about killing people, about class warfare and the deadly struggle of the oppressed masses to establish a dictatorship of the proletariat. And the party had put him in charge! Did that mean he was right? Of course, her father had just been a regular communist, an old-fashioned one, and these people were all Maoists, followers of the Chinese leader. But should that make a difference?
There was the noise of men talking in the vestibule, hanging up their coats and lighting cigarettes, meaning that the other leaders had returned from the demonstration and the council meeting was about to begin. Domenica smoothed her long black hair, and faced herself in the mirror, hoping that Arrazzo would approve of this dress. It was the shortest one she could find, and showed off her full voluptuous figure to the best advantage, particularly her high widely-spaced breasts, and her smoothly sensuous thighs. She could understand that he wanted her to look attractive for the members of the council; after the riot at the university, they would be tired and some of them would be hurt. But the outfit he had ordered her to wear was impossible! She simply could not appear in public half-dressed! And what did her sex-appeal have to do with the revolt of the proletariat anyway?
As the noise of conversation came closer to the door, Domenica looked around, quickly making sure that everything was in readiness for the meeting. It was a strange apartment for a man who professed to be a communist and a Maoist too; the rugs on the floor were expensive and the furniture was exquisite. Why, any one of those carved wood antique chairs around the seventeenth century refractory table would have cost half a year's wages for a worker in Rome. Of course, Arrazzo had adorned the walls with the regulation photographs of Stalin looking stern and Chairman Mao smiling benevolently, but Domenica still could not help wondering if the party would approve of them living quite so expensively. She had often been tempted to ask Arrazzo about it, but one had to be careful when asking the party leader questions. Having worked for him part-time for a year as a secretary, she knew about his temper and his capacity for reacting violently to the slightest provocation. Besides, he was busy. It was better not to bother him, and in time, she imagined, all of these questions would be answered. After all, he had been chosen to organize the university district for Maoism and was one hundred percent dedicated to the cause.
Arrazzo and Aldo were talking animatedly as they came in, and for a moment neither man seemed to take notice of her. There was a gash over Aldo's right eye which was still bleeding slightly, but she was terrified of the big red-haired Sicilian, and decided not to offer him medical attention until he asked for it. Aldo was always coming back from these riots bruised or bleeding, since he liked to be where the fighting was the thickest.
"Let's get rid of him!" the Sicilian was saying. "If he double-crosses us once, he'll do it again! We can leave the motherfucker's body on the steps of the police station!"
Arrazzo chuckled softly, the sardonic laughter Domenica had learned to fear over the year of their association. Arrazzo always smiled and laughed, even when he was sending someone out to certain death or arrest.
"No, our friend is still useful, very useful, and we would create opposition for ourselves within the movement if we eliminated him. But I do think he needs a lesson in obedience."
Domenica found herself trembling, waiting for the moment when he would turn around and see how she was dressed. It was strange that such a scrawny, funny-looking little man could make so many people feel fear, but Domenica felt it herself and understood. Arrazzo was short and ugly with a distinct curvature to his spine which made him walk in a peculiar halting way, but his ugliness seemed to be the source of his power, the foundation of his authority. His hair was long, stringy, and unwashed, hanging down his back in a disordered mass of blackness, and his face was scarred and twisted. And when he spoke to people, they backed away from him, and obeyed.
Now he was looking at her, smiling as always, and Domenica forced herself to smile back, deciding she would not make matters worse by raising the question of her dress unless he did.
"Did everything go all right?" she quavered nervously. "Were there many injuries?"
"Among the police, yes," responded the party leader sadistically. "I think we put five of them in the hospital. But the students from the School of Architecture did not show up, so we missed the chance to strike a really crushing blow against the enemies of the people."
"Oh, why?"
"That's what we intend to find out now. I seem to be having difficulty convincing people to obey my instructions these days. You, for example, are not dressed the way I told you to dress." The other man was looking on with interest, watching as Arrazzo walked slowly and menacingly towards the obviously frightened secretary. // the boss ever decides to have her punished, Aldo was thinking viciously, I'm just the man for the job! Man, I could use an hour done with that little whore and when I finished with her, she wouldn't be able to walk any straighter than he does!
"Well, I found this outfit and I thought it looked so much more attractive than a pair of dungarees and an old tee-shirt ..." she offered feebly, but the smile on Arrazzo's face only became wider. The party leader stopped in front of her, deciding how he would punish her for this disobedience. He felt like hitting her, in fact the idea appealed to him tremendously, but she had that white delicate flesh which bruises so easily, and he wanted her looking attractive for the council meeting. Instead he reached out with both hands and seized the neckline of the pleasant cotton jumper she was wearing.
"You have been a good secretary, Domenica," he told her formally, "but the struggle for the communist revolution does not end with good spelling and those nice wide margins of yours. We have been considering you for far more important tasks within the party, and you disappoint me with this petty act of insubordination. There was a reason for you to wear those clothes tonight, a very serious reason."
"What was it?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper as she felt his hands tighten on the top of her dress.
"You will be informed of party decisions when you are politically mature enough to understand them," he told her bluntly. "But in the meantime, you will not disobey me again. Particularly with this dress!"
With an abrupt downward motion of his hand, the party leader ripped the garment along the seams, severing it to the waist and allowing the girl's sensuously swaying young breasts to spring forward as if they had been liberated from captivity, protected only by a thin cotton brassiere. Domenica's face went white, but she dared not move a muscle until Arrazzo finished doing whatever he chose to do to her. He was seriously angry and this was not the moment to defy him, if there was ever a moment when it was safe to defy the party leader.
"We have another disobedient friend here tonight," Arrazzo informed her quietly, taking his hands away from her shredded dress. "I think it would be useful for you to see what happens to people who challenge the authority of the party in a serious way. Come with us."
Holding her dress closed over her brassiere with her hands, Domenica followed the two men submissively into the party leader's office in the back of the apartment. Arrazzo entered first, and over his shoulder she saw an unhappy-looking young student whom she recognized as the leader of the cell which was active at the School of Architecture. The young man smiled nervously, obviously relieved to see that Domenica was going to be present, but puzzled by the condition of her dress.
"Listen, Arrazzo, I know you were expecting us tonight, but things happened and ... I can explain ..."
"So explain!" ordered the Maoist leader sternly as Aldo walked up to the terrified student and put a hand on his shoulder.
"We had a meeting with the director of the school just before the demonstration, like you said, and gave him our list of demands, or some of them anyway, and told him we were going to demonstrate if we didn't get action. And he gave in on every point! What could we do?"
"Aldo, you may hit him," murmured Arrazzo quietly. The big Sicilian moved fast, slamming the architectural student up against the wall, and slugging him hard in the stomach. The student doubled over with a cry of agony, but Aldo straightened him up with a brutal uppercut to the jaw, and a fine spray of blood and spit spurted from his mouth.
"Noooooooooooohhhhhhh!!! he groaned, but the beating was suspended for a moment, and Arrazzo stepped even closer until his face was only inches away from the student's. There was a fine trickle of blood oozing its way from the split lip, and one of his teeth was missing.
"You only presented some of the demands! Which ones did you leave out?"
"Well, we thought asking him to resign his position and let us run the school was unreasonable, and we wanted to give him some room to negotiate ..." the student supported himself against the wall, obviously on the verge of passing out.
"You failed! You disobeyed the party's instructions and you failed as a result!"
"Arrazzo, we got a lot of concessions from him! He was very reasonable, and after talking to him and getting everything we wanted, I just couldn't tell the students that we had to go and riot against him ..."
The architectural student never got the chance to finish his statement. Too fast for the eye to follow, Arrazzo's knee jackknifed up, catching the young man squarely in the groin.
" Aiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyyhhhhhhhhhh!!!" His cry was terrible to hear, but Domenica knew that the walls were insulated for sound, and they could do what they liked without fear of some neighbor calling the police. Arrazzo stepped quickly aside, not wanting to soil his hands with the dirty work, and Aldo moved in fast to pick up where he left off. The student crumbled to the floor, vainly trying to protect his injured genitals, while Aldo kicked him mercilessly in the ribs, his heavy leather boots pounding into the young man's chest, each cruel blow knocking the breath from his battered body.
Domenica backed up against a wall, horrified, forgetting even about the condition of her dress as she watched the brutal Sicilian slowly reduce what had once been a bright young party worker into a bruised and bleeding mass of human flesh. After he had broken two or three ribs, Aldo got down on his hands and knees next to the tormented youth, and systematically began working his face over, making sure that his knuckles cut into the skin with every resounding punch. The girl wanted to scream or cry, but she was too stunned by this murderous assault to move, and she stood numbly with her back to the wall, her hands pressed against her face, in shocked disbelief watching as Aldo pulverized the once-handsome face of the disobedient party worker.
"That will do, Aldo. Now take him in and exhibit him to the other members of the executive council. There is no point in giving a lesson unless it is learned by the whole class. I will join you there as soon as Domenica and I have settled the question of her clothing."
Half in a daze, the Sardinian girl felt his hand on her arm, and she followed him meekly out of the office and into the bedroom at one end of the apartment which she had been occupying for the past few weeks. Arrazzo gently closed the door behind them and then sent her sailing across the room with a violent push. She landed in a heap at the foot of her bed, and looked up, expecting the worst.
"Now, we have had a lesson in discipline, we will have one in psychology. You are a party worker and a woman. The party expects each of us to contribute what we have to the common cause of the revolution, and up to now, we have asked you to contribute only your skill as a typist, in return for which you have been given a room to live in and a little money. You claim to be a loyal communist, but on the first occasion we ask you to contribute something of yourself as a woman, you defy us. The men waiting in the hall have all faced a line of policemen tonight, and risked their lives and their freedom for the cause. Their reward is the knowledge that they have moved Italy just a little closer to the day of the final revolution, but as their leader, I wanted them to have a little extra reward, something concrete and immediate. I wanted them to return to this apartment and be greeted by a beautiful woman: you, to be precise. And I wanted that beautiful woman to be dressed as if she were not ashamed to share her beauty with her comrades. Instead, I find you dressed like some middle class school girl!" "But Arrazzo ..."
"Silence!" he snapped at her, so angry that he was no longer smiling. She had never seen him this violent before, and she waited submissively for his instructions. . "Strip!"
This time, Domenica knew better than to object, but she had never had any sexual contact with this man before despite the fact that they had been sharing an apartment, and the thought of him touching her in a lustful way sent shivers of fear down her spine. Undressing was not difficult, since he had already torn her dress to the waist, and she merely shrugged the garment off her milk-white shoulders and let it slip to the floor, leaving her clad only in a plain white brassiere and panties. She was still thinking about what they had just done to that student, and all she wanted now was to come out of this without a brutal beating^.
Arrazzo watched her carefully as she blushed and turned her back on him to unfasten her brassiere, calculating how far she could be pushed, and how fast. In a battle with an enemy like the Italian government, there were no holds barred, and a provocative girl like this one could prove to be a very successful weapon. Men would cheerfully die for a body like that! First, she was tall, a rarity among Italian women, and her figure was well proportioned and lithe. Domenica's breasts were heavy and mature, and Arrazzo had been watching them for a year moving sensuously under her tight sweaters.
But tonight, he wanted to see what they looked like naked, and as she dropped her brassiere on the floor, he seized her shoulders and turned her slowly around to face him. The bizarre masochistic excitement of being forced to strip herself naked in front of this brutal man seemed to have aroused her in some perverse fashion, and her tiny brown nipples were erected and hard.
"You are still not naked," he reminded her mockingly, glancing down between the two sumptuous mounds of her breasts at the white cotton panties she was still wearing.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled in an agony of despair and embarrassment. In the back of her mind, Domenica was clinging to one single hope: there was a council meeting due to begin any minute now, and he could not take the time to abuse her sexually or to beat her up. Arrazzo was a fanatic for being on time, a rather strange trait for an Italian, and she knew he would not delay an important meeting for as long as it would take to try to make love to her; by the time the meeting was over, perhaps his blood would have cooled. The intuitive girl half-guessed that he had ordered her to strip for some political motive or to prove a point. She bent quickly and slid the offending panties to the floor, feeling the cool air caress the hot flesh of her quivering thighs.
"That's better," he said softly, taking another step toward her so that the tips of her ripely swaying breasts were nearly touching his chest. He reached up slowly, taking one of her tender little nipples between his thumb and index finger, and squeezed it gently. Her body reacted instinctively and the little rose-tipped bud began to swell as if she were being stroked by a lover.
"To whom does this belong?" he asked.
"I ... I don't know what you mean ..." she stammered, writhing a little as the sadist increased his pressure on the sensitive nipple.
"It belongs to the party," he informed her, squeezing hard.
"But.. . that's going a little too far . . . " she tried to object, but he had grabbed her with the other hand now, and began twisting her breasts savagely, his sharp fingernails biting painfully into the flaccid flesh of her breasts.
"You're hurting me ..." she groaned, too intimidated to dream of resistance and too frightened to fight back.
"Your body, to whom does it belong?" he demanded sharply, his furiously twisted face only inches away from hers and his eyes blazing fanatically.
"It... it belongs to the party," she moaned in utter submission, now realizing that this was the answer he was looking for.
Releasing her with one hand, the party leader quickly reached between her legs, thrusting his hand directly against the delicate flesh of her vaginal hps. She struggled, instinctively resisting this depraved violation of her genitals, but the man was ten times too strong for her, and as she wiggled desperately, he pushed his thick middle finger up between the hair-covered flanges of her pussy directly into the moistly warm sanctuary of her ravished cunt.
"And this? Who does your cunt belong to?"
"The party," she sobbed desperately, willing to say anything if he would only take his intruding finger out of her sensitive vagina.
"Who?"
"My cunt belongs to the party!" she gasped, knowing he could make her say anything now.
"And this?" Pulling her even closer to him, he lewdly brushed the tip of his index finger across the contracted ring of her anus, causing a shiver of absolute horror to ripple through her naked body. "Your asshole belongs to ... "
"My asshole belongs to the party," she heard herself crying, knowing that she would never be able to look into a mirror again without remembering the utter shame and degradation of this terrifying moment. A wave of self-disgust swept over her, and the powerful man abruptly released his grip, as if her body had suddenly grown too hot to handle. With a moan, the curvaceous young woman collapsed on the floor, now too disgraced in her own eyes even to bother covering her exposed, vulnerable body.
"Now we understand each other," Arrazzo grinned as he straddled her body triumphantly, knowing he had fought and won the first battle for possession of this magnificent woman. From this moment on, she would be a docile instrument in his hands, ready to do whatever the party demanded of her. The Maoist leader was a shrewd judge of personalities, having been thoroughly trained in psychology at a special course for foreign agents offered by the
University of Peking. He had known for some time that buried beneath the surface of this apparently normal girl, there was a real masochist, a woman who unconsciously longed to be hurt and abused.
"I asked you to undress for a purpose," he informed her, nudging the smoothly taut spheres of her buttocks with his foot, "And I will ask you to do it again before long. Remember who you belong to, body and soul! Now, get dressed. The council meeting is ready to begin and I want you to attend."
Her mind a welter of unhappiness and confusion, Domenica Sotgiu huddled behind her notebook in a corner of the meeting room, painfully aware that the super-hardened little nuggets of her nipples were visible beneath the thin translucent fabric of the men's cotton undershirt she had been given to wear over a pair of tight, form-fitting blue-jeans. The undershirt was the kind worn by working men in the streets, and she supposed that in Arrazzo's mind, it was precisely the high Marxist fashion that well-dressed revolutionary women were wearing these days, but she felt humiliated and embarrassed anyway. The neckline was scooped impossibly low, exposing a generous portion of her lushly succulent breasts to everyone's view, and the light cotton fabric was so flimsy and thin that it offered no protection at all from the lustful eyes of the other members of the executive council. To make matters worse, her nipples insisted upon standing out like soldiers on parade, stimulated erotically by the perverse knowledge that they were on public display.
The brutally savage beating of the young architectural student had upset her profoundly, and the supple-bodied girl could not understand Arrazzo's motives for insisting, out of a clear blue sky, that her smoothly voluptuous young body was the private property of the party. Of course, she was devoted to the movement, even to the revolution if it came to that, but what did communism have to do with her breasts and her vagina?
But she shook her head and tried to concentrate her thoughts on the business at hand since Arrazzo was talking again, and she had to be ready to take notes on anything of significance which might be said.
"We have authorization for the new project,"
he was announcing to the group, "I received orders from the central committee this morning, and we are to go into action as soon as possible. This project has been discussed with most of you individually, and you know the importance of what we are about to undertake. You all received copies of the information report on the new chief of the so-called Anti-Subversives Office, a fascist pig named D'Agostinelli, which was prepared by our agents in Milan. The man has just arrived, and the central committee desires that we give him an exceedingly warm welcome."
"It could be dangerous, right now," commented a tall swarthy black-haired student named Rossini, making an attempt to seem nonchalant, but not succeeding very well. "After today's little encounter, the cops are going to be looking for more trouble."
"It will be dangerous," conceded Arrazzo bluntly, "But it must be done anyway. This D'Agostinelli is new to political work, but he is allegedly extremely bright and energetic. Before leaving Milan, he had the Mafia with its back to the wall and eliminated two of the largest rings of car thieves."
"After the revolution, we will need men like that," commented a robust athletic-looking activist named Pigroni. "It seems a pity to eliminate him ..."
"If we allow men like D'Agostinelli to go on living, there never will be a revolution!" flared Arrazzo, suddenly angry. "We have survived as long as we have because the police are mostly incompetent. This man, unfortunately, is too efficient for the central committee's taste and the time to stop him is before he gets started. A bomb will be planted in his office ..."
Domenica closed her eyes, wishing for the first time in years that she was a thousand miles away from Rome, perhaps back in her little village in Sardinia, where life was so much simpler. They had begun by talking about student demonstrations, which somehow always turned into violence. Now they were planning to blow-up a police station, and Arrazzo was informing her that her genital organs ought to be at the service of communism. Where was all of this destined to end? Should she get out now, before it was too late?
And do what? All the money she had gotten from her father's will was long since spent, and the only source of income she had was what the party leader gave her. And if she quit her job as Arazzo's secretary, she would have to leave Rome and hide somewhere, that much was obvious. She knew too much about his activities now; he would never let her get out from under his control. And the party seemed to have men everywhere, men who had no qualms about killing . ..
"You, Pigroni, will lead the demolition team as we agreed," Arrazzo was saying. "I will leave it to you to select the men you wish to accompany you. All of the men in this room are volunteers ..."
"All right," replied Pigroni, a muscular blond-haired man who was a graduate student of engineering. "If that's what the central committee wants, then we'll do it, but. . . well, goddamn it, bombing a police office is no joke! We could get our fucking heads shot off!"
"Why can't we just nail him on the street?" proposed Aldo calmly. "He ends up just as dead with a bullet in the head, and the risk is a lot less."
"Precisely, which is why the central committee wants it done with an explosion. Shooting a man down, on the street takes no courage at all, and even less intelligence, and common people will consider us stupid cowards. But a bombing attack, right inside the police headquarters! It will seize the public imagination, show them that we are fighting for their freedom from the capitalistic dictatorship!"
"Okay, Arrazzo, tomorrow night we move. But you'd better have a good stiff drink ready for us when we get back here." Pigroni was a nervous, fast-moving individual, and Domenica could see that the idea did not appeal to him in the slightest. But good communists do not question orders.
"I'll have something better than a stiff drink," promised Arrazzo, his evil grin widening as he glanced in the girl's direction. "Comrade Domenica will be here to welcome you, and she will reward you the way courageous fighters for freedom deserve to be rewarded."
There was a moment of general consternation at this depraved announcement, and for an instant Domenica decided that her ears were playing tricks on her. Could he possibly mean what she thought he meant? No, there was no question about it! The bomb squad had understood clearly what the party leader was implying and they were grinning at her lustfully, ready to blow up all the police stations in Italy for a chance at that warmly tempting young body.
The dark-haired woman was too stunned to speak, and for a long instant there was dead silence in the room as the members of the council stared at her with undisguised desire. There was not a man among them who had not itched for a shot at this heavy breasted, slim waisted comrade, but Domenica had never seemed interested in having a love affair with anyone, and they had all assumed that she was being monopolized by Arrazzo. But now he was passing her around, sharing the wealth like a good communist!
"Tomorrow night then," breathed Pigroni, his voice husky with lust. "Tomorrow night we move. But first, how about a better look at our reward? It'll inspire us!"
There was a general murmur of lewd consensus, but Domenica's mind was too shattered to realize what they were talking about. Then Arrazzo gestured crudely in her direction.
"Fine with me. Domenica, please stand and undress!"
The girl froze in panic, too frightened to speak up and refuse, her body paralyzed. In an instant, the muscular Sicilian was at her side. Roughly, he pulled her to her feet, spinning her around to face the company. Her hands dropped helplessly to her sides as Aldo expertly slipped the straps off the undershirt over her soft creamy shoulders and jerked the garment down over the richly swelling globes of her breasts, denuding her abruptly to the waist. A second later, he ripped open the fastening to her jeans, dropping on one knee to lower them to her ankles, and in another instant she was naked, stark naked in a roomful of lust-stricken men, and too terrified to mumble the slightest protest. Her eyes wildly searched the room looking for assistance somewhere, but she found nothing more than savagely carnal desire in every man's face.
"I think we might just as well start now," muttered Rossini, taking a step in her direction, his eyes blazing as he scanned the helplessly naked beauty before him. Quickly responding to a signal from the party leader, Aldo blocked the way with his huge body.
"Not tonight comrade. First we get D'Agostinelli, and then we have our party."
"You'd better get moving," added Arrazzo sternly. "You've got some work to do if you expect to pull off that job tomorrow."
For a moment, there was a mood of rebellion in the room, and a look of frustration passed over Rossini's lust-twisted face. But the Marxist habit of obedience was too strong, and slowly the executive council members filed out of the room, each taking one last longing look at the splendid desire-provoking body they had been promised as a reward for snuffing out the life of a police official none of them even knew.
The door closed behind the last man, and Domenica tried to pull the inadequate shirt up over her lushly swollen breasts, only to find Aldo was holding her prisoner, his hands on each wrist.
"What do you say, boss? I think we ought to soften her up for tomorrow night!"
"Hmmmm, you may be right. Doesn't look to me as if she's too happy about her participation in the revolution. Surprised you, didn't I, Domenica?"
"You can't!" she groaned, suddenly finding her voice. "I ... I never came here for this! I'm just a secretary, not some kind of political whore!"
She regretted these bold words even before she had finished saying them. A look of understanding passed between Aldo and his boss, and a moment later, the girl found herself that on her back, the victim of Aldo's vicious backhand. The big Sicilian bent over quickly, yanking the jeans off her legs completely and then ripping the fragile undershirt away from her body. When she was totally naked and sprawled helplessly at their feet, the two men stood over her, laughing scornfully at her pitiful condition. Domenica glanced up at the two brutal faces, and suddenly found a tiny particle of courage and rebellion within her.
This is rape! she realized, wondering why it had taken her so long to see what they were obviously planning to do. This has nothing to do with communism or Chairman Mao or the Revolution of the Proletariat. It's just blatantly sadistic sexual abuse!
"Give me my clothes!" she commanded, deciding that she could only save herself from the humiliation and pain of a sexual assault if she demonstrated that she was not afraid. "You have no right. . . You can't..."
"Ah, giving us a lesson in law, are you?" snapped Arrazzo, his ugly face hardening as he suggestively ran his fingers through her dark hair. "Chairman Mao said that power comes out of the barrel of a gun, but in your case I think a whip will be sufficient. Aldo take off your belt."
"No!" the girl cried in dismay, but Aldo grinned as he slipped the heavy leather belt out of his pants, holding it by the buckle.
"Shall I give her a few love taps?" begged the Sicilian eagerly, and Domenica saw his eyes light up with sheer animalistic pleasure at the perverse desire of inflicting pain on another human being.
"Just a few. I think this party worker needs a little discipline."
Domenica rolled quickly over on her belly as Aldo stepped forward, but before she could rise, the belt whistled through the air, catching her on the tender inside of one thigh and sending a spasm of burning torment rushing through her naked body.
"Aaaagggghhhh!" she groaned miserably, dimbing to her hands and knees and trying vainly to escape from the stinging lash. But Arrazzo quickly blocked her attempted retreat, nodding his permission to Aldo who was waiting impatiently to administer another blow. The belt sailed through the air again, this time raising a pink welt on her right buttock. Domenica whimpered helplessly as she realized that escape was impossible, and crouched down with her elbows tucked in tightly along her rib cage in a panic-stricken attempt to protect the softly swaying spheres of her breasts.
"No, please . . . don't hit me again," she pleaded, knowing that there was no point in defying them anymore. "Please ..."
"To whom does your body belong?" came Arrazzo's voice from high above her, and for an instant Domenica imagined herself a repenting heretic kneeling before the throne of the Grand Inquisitor.
"To the party," she groaned.
"And your cunt?"
"To the party!" her voice was a reluctant whisper.
"And your mouth?"
"To the party, to the party, everything belongs to the party!!!" she sobbed in agony.
"Then if we beat you, it is the party who is beating you, am I right?" inquired Arrazzo, his voice now strangely soft as if he were only trying to show her what was perfectly obvious. "And if we fuck you in the cunt, or the mouth, or the ass, it is the party who is using you, and for your own good. Is that right?"
"I .. . no . . . please, don't make me say ..."
The whip delivered its evil message for the third time, and the girl's tormented scream echoed across the room.
"Aaaaaggggg!!! NO, please . . . yes . . . everything you say is right," she babbled, willing to parrot Arrazzo's words to the letter if they would only not hit her again.
"That's better. Now get up on your knees."
"I want her ass," grunted Aldo, moving in behind her threateningly, but Arrazzo waved him away.
"Not tonight, comrade. I don't want her messed up before she does her duty to the party. But my cock has an urgent appointment with those red lips I see before me, and a little sucking shouldn't hurt that lovely mouth. "On your knees, Domenica."
The black-haired Sardinian woman shook her head, trying desperately to clear her mind and decide what she should do, but she knew she had very little choice in the matter but to obey them and hope that they did not hurt her seriously. Her lushly exciting young body was trembling badly as she knelt before Arrazzo, the nipples on her breasts still strangely hard as if somehow even the sadistic sexuality of this experience was having an unconscious effect upon her rebellious body.
"Aldo is right behind you, and he would like nothing better than fucking you in the ass, Domenica. Would you like that?"
"No," her voice was a plea for mercy.
"Then you had better do precisely what I wish." As he spoke, the Maoist leader wound his hands cruelly into her long black hair, holding her head in a vise-like grip. Domenica was almost thrown off-balance, but she steadied herself by hanging onto his legs. Aldo was crouched behind her, and she took in her breath sharply as she felt his hot sweating hands lewdly exploring between her legs. She forced herself to hold still, having an idea what Arrazzo was going to demand of her, and stricken by the knowledge that she had no way of defending herself from any outrageous assault he decided to make on her helpless body.
"Open my fly," Arrazzo commanded her sternly, holding her head so that she could only look directly ahead of her at his loins. Her hands trembled weakly as she fumbled with the zipper, feeling his male organ already rigid and pulsating with lust beneath his tight-fitting trousers.
"Oh my God, she said to herself in agony as she freed his long bulging cock from captivity. He wants me to suck him! He wants me to put this thing in my mouth! I can't do it! I don't care how hard they hit me!
But the crafty Maoist never gave her a chance to decide whether or not she would willingly do his bidding. The moment his erected cock was free and waving lasciviously in her face, its red bulbous tip only inches from the tightly clenched ovals of her lips, he went to work on her jaws, jamming his thumbs into her cheeks. Slowly and painfully he forced her mouth open, and when she saw that the cause was utterly lost, Domenica closed her eyes and surrendered. For a short slender man, Arrazzo's penis seemed unusually long, and she gasped for breath as she felt the invading cock sliding slowly and surely along the moistly quivering surface of her tongue towards the back of her mouth. She gagged for a moment, nauseated by the idea of having her pure virginal mouth used by this man as a receptacle for his vile lust, and tried to adjust to the idea of having this lust-swollen cock between her cruelly stretched lips.
The smell of his body was strong and pungent, but not really as unpleasant as she had expected; more than anything else, it was the lewd idea of sucking a man's penis that bothered her. Domenica was not quite a virgin, having surrendered herself to her boyfriend while still a student at the university, but she still had a bad conscience over the idea of having sex before she was properly married.
Her father had always lectured her that religion was the opium of the people, but her mother had kept the ecclesiastical pressure on her from the time she was a child, emphasizing the absolutely vital need for purity and chastity. When she had fallen in love with the boy at the university, Domenica had compromised with her conscience to the extent of spending a few nights in his room. It had been uncomfortable, the two of them wrestling in a hard single bed, and somehow she had not managed to achieve anything remotely resembling passion, even though the boy had been very gentle and loving. Finally she had broken off the affair, wondering if there was not something wrong with her. She had heard about women who were naturally frigid . . .
And now this! With her boyfriend, she had never experienced anything but missionary position sex, where she laid on her back with her legs apart, and he slowly inserted his hardened penis into the tenderness of her waiting vagina. She had always known about other kinds of sex, of course, but had never envisioned herself doing anything as perverted and degenerate as accepting a man's rigid cock into the sanctity of her mouth. She could feel the enormous glans at the tip of Arrazzo's pulsating rod jerking spasmodically back and forth as it invaded the virginal delicacy of her throat, and the manipulated girl instinctively clamped her lips tightly around the rigid shaft of his instrument. This seemed to increase his sadistic pleasure, and she felt his hips begin to undulate slowly but powerfully back and forth, driving his pulsating rod farther and farther into the back of her throat, groaning with wanton bliss after each punishing stroke.
"That's right, comrade," Arrazzo complimented her crudely. "Suck my prick good!"
Arrazzo looked down upon the lusciously naked body which was crouched at his feet, asking himself why he had waited so long before making a play for this supremely desirable woman. After all, even a revolutionary needed a moment of relaxation every so often, and what better way to relax than this? The party leader had always realized that there was a hot spark of submissive passion smoldering somewhere down inside this voluptuous young woman, and that it would take nothing more than a little cruelty or a faint threat of violence to bring it to the surface. Who would have thought that she could have been pushed so far, so fast? And yet here she was, humbly kneeling before him like a temple priestess adoring her pagan god of sexuality, his long throbbing cock stuck evilly into her softly yielding mouth. No, she had not been aroused yet; she was still resentful and upset at being bludgeoned into this degrading position, but those sparks of blatant carnality would be flying any minute now!
"Hey, comrade, do you need some help?"
Aldo was looking pleadingly at his boss, and the party leader nodded his acquiescence knowing well that the Sicilian was dying to get into this debauching act. The moment he had Arrazzo's silent consent, Aldo laid himself down on the rug on his back, and then gently inched backward until his shoulders were between Domenica's calves and his head was directly underneath her lust-arousing vagina". Then, raising himself up on his elbows, he forced her softly creamy thighs far enough apart to be able to nestle his face into the hair-covered flesh of her defenseless cunt.
The wickedly exciting touch of his lips to the softly quivering flesh of her cuntal furrow sent a tremble of long-suppressed lust streaking through the girl's naked body, and suddenly Domenica knew that she had to get this bizarre assault over with fast, or there was the distinct danger of her becoming aroused.
How often in bed with her boyfriend had she searched her body for the slightest glimmer of sensual excitement and found nothing. And now, ravaged by two cruel men, two political fanatics who had not ever bothered pretending to love her, she was beginning to feel all kinds of strange titillating sensations! There was a tormenting trickle of sex fluids running down her loins where Aldo's tongue was busily washing over the sensitive pink flanges of her cuntal tissue, and her thighs were twitching convulsively as the muscular man lapped at her proffered pussy with brutal persistence, his tongue repetitively snaking over the tiny pink button of her clitoris.
Arrazzo sensed the change immediately, seeing her hands rise up involuntarily from her sides and grasp the stiffened shaft of his cock, her fingers dancing lightly over the heavy semen-packed spheres of his testicles. "That's good, comrade," he instructed her, trying to keep the pressure on. "You're going to make a very fine little cocksucker with a little practice. Harder!"
Grimly, she obeyed, feeling the prurient fires of illicit lust leap higher within her dually ravished body. The still empty sheath of her trembling vagina seemed to be dilating open as if it were yearning desperately to be filled with something, and she could sense that the once-flaccid little buttons on the tip of each breast were now hardened and protuberant as if they were begging to be caressed. Bit by bit, the obscene task of sucking Arrazzo's long glistening cock was becoming less and less a torment and more and more an irrepressible pleasure.
What's happening to me? she groaned internally. I'm going crazy! I've got to stop this before something terrible happens! Oh God, don't let them make me cum! Not like this!
Frantically trying to force her captor to spew his hot sticky sperm into the depths of her throat before he succeeded in arousing her to the point of no return, Domenica washed her tongue tirelessly over the bulging contours of his orally impaling cock, sucking his lewdly violating penis farther and farther into her wildly churning mouth. Her tongue touched and teased his swollen cock shaft as she worked over him like a slave girl, her glistening lips clamped tightly around the thickened circumference of his pounding penis.
Beneath her, lapping and sucking like a madman, was Aldo supporting himself on his elbows and nearly lifting her body off the floor as he thrust his viciously slavering face up into the free-flowing piquant moistness of her cringing cunt. The big Sicilian strong man had long wanted to violate this provocative girl, but he accurately guessed that tonight he was going to be allowed to do no more than ravish her seething pussy with his tongue. Arrazzo was saving the Sardinian woman for something more than a reward for the bombing squad, this much he knew. Whatever her real mission was going to be, Aldo guessed that it would be a sex-job of some kind, and this meant that he would not be allowed to possess her until after she had done her duty to the party.
Slowly, he unbuckled his belt and one hand crept down beneath his pants where his extraordinarily large cock was pulsating with erotic energy, longing to be thrust up into one of the girl's bodily orifices, and burning with the frustration of knowing that for the moment at least, there was no hope of his accomplishing his ill-concealed desire. Aldo disliked the idea of jacking off, but at this point, it was difficult to imagine an alternative. Reluctantly, his fingers wrapped themselves around his passion-bloated cockshaft and began to rub his distended male member.
Domenica found herself imagining what this sordid scene would look like to someone else standing in the room, and her excitement doubled in an instant. She had passed through all the stages of feminine arousal: fear, disgust, submission, stimulation, and now wildly rampant lust. Suddenly, she found that she could not get enough of what she was doing, and her desire-clouded mind began to stagger under the effect of one torridly erotic fantasy after another. Her greedily sucking mouth opened wider, and shivers of forbidden excitement ran through her frantically gyrating body as she felt Arrazzo's hotly fucking penis begin to jerk and swell. The man's powerfully throbbing penis was mounting to a climax, and beads of sweat ran down her straining cheeks as she furiously coaxed his pistoning cock to deposit his lust-inciting load of burning cum into her receptive young mouth. With groans and grunts of slavish masochistic gratification rumbling deep in her cock-filled throat, Domenica's hands crept around to Arrazzo's undulating buttocks and pulled him even closer, wantonly urging her attacker to fuck even more deeply into her viciously violated mouth.
"Oh Christ!" Arrazzo moaned in stunned amazement, feeling his cock grow to insane dimensions as she gulped all of his blood-engorged cock into her gaping mouth with one last lust-driven act of submission. The party leader seized her dark head in a vise-like grip, flexing his hips furiously back and forth as he rammed his pillaging penis into her straining throat, and then threw his head back in a savage cry of total animalistic ecstasy as his pent-up semen began rushing up from his inflamed testicles through his wildly spasming cock and out into her greedily working mouth.
"Oh fuck it, I'm cumming ... suck, you bitch!" he groaned, pounding his penis with inhuman ferocity far into the deepest reaches of her laboring throat.
Domenica swallowed madly as the searing flood of steaming semen began to spray powerfully into the back of her throat, and her Adam's apple bounced convulsively as she frantically tried to consume every drop of his spewing sperm. As the black-haired girl gulped and swallowed, a flaming torch of mindless erotic rapture seemed to follow the endless streams of Arrazzo's cum down into her belly, igniting her loins with the same seething conflagration and seeping down into her wildly convulsing cunt. The girl felt Aldo frenziedly stabbing his stiffened tongue up into her spasming vagina and knew in an instant of absolute truth that she had no hope of avoiding the rampaging fires of lust that threatened to inundate every living cell of her flailing body.
Domenica vehemently climaxed for the first time in her life, and the orgasm was like a bolt of lightening shooting down from the heavens to electrify every nerve-ending in her incredibly over-stimulated young body.
"Aaaaaaagggggghhhhh!!!!" she groaned, collapsing onto her side as Arrazzo's slowly wilting cock slipped from her cum-smeared lips while Aldo's head remained trapped between her desperately jerking thighs. A torrid stream of sperm bombarded against her naked buttocks as Aldo finally reached an explosive orgasm, launching a river of semen into the air from his tormented cock while Domenica bucked her body wildly and reveled in the glistening cum that dribbled down her ass-cheeks, alternately groaning and crying in blatant animalistic release.
"Oh I came so hard, so hard ..." she mumbled, curling up in a ball on the floor as Aldo roughly extracted his head from between her trembling thighs. "I never knew ... it could be like this!"
"Your service to the party has just begun, comrade," Arrazzo told her sternly. "There will be more training before you are ready for the real thing." Then the party leader motioned to his assistant and the two men walked coldly away, buttoning up their pants.
Chapter Four
Somebody a long time ago had decided that "Anti-Subversive Office" was an unsuitable title for the unit which D'Agostinelli commanded, and had ordered the words, "Ufficio Politico della Questura," painted on the glass door which led to the group of rooms where the war against political subversion was waged. Normally, the "Police Political Office" looked like any other office in the sprawling bureaucracy of the Italian government: An occasional pretty secretary, men hunched over ancient Olivetti typewriters pecking out reports with five carbons, the smell of unwashed coffee cups, and the stale permanent odor of the thousands of Nazionale cigarettes which had been smoked in these drab, gray-painted rooms.
This evening, the appearance was the same, except for the missing presence of the pretty secretary who had been mysteriously called in by Captain D'Agostinelli earlier in the day and ordered to take a week's leave at the government's expense; but the atmosphere was strikingly different. There was a strained tension in the air, despite the pleasant Roman evening outside, and a uniformed guard stood alertly at the door, a Sten gun held conspicuously in his hand, checking the identification of anyone who entered or left the office. Inside, for the tenth time, anti-subversive detectives were turning the office upside down, searching for something with an urgency which was obvious. These were cool careful men who had lived most of their lives under the gun; they were not nervous, not in the slightest, but they worked with the studied caution of men who knew that the could easily pay for an oversight with their lives.
The search was concluded, unsuccessfully like the other nine searches they had made during the day, and the police lieutenant who had directed the work straightened up with a pain in his back, mopped his brow, and looked despondently out the window. It was already an hour past dinner time, and his stomach was growling for a heaping plate of spaghetti alia carbonara washed down with a healthy glass of good Tuscan wine. The lieutenant thought about calling- his wife again, to explain that it would be a little while before he got home, but he had already called her twice, and a third call might make her nervous, or lead her to suspect that something had gone seriously wrong. Or maybe she would begin to worry that he was really out with a girl friend! One could never tell with women. For a moment the lieutenant almost envied Captain D'Agostinelli, who was a bachelor. With no wife to explain things to, he could come and go as he pleased, work late if he wanted to, or had to, and sleep with all the little Italian ladies he could get his hands on.
I bet the old man gets a different one every night, fantasized the lieutenant, feeling the strain of the day sweep over him. With his looks, and his salary, he must cut them down like a lawnmower. And he's got a great future ahead of him too, with his education and that mind! He could be chief of police in a few years, and maybe he'll take me with him, all the way to the top! On the other hand, if we don't find that fucking bomb, we could all be dead in about two seconds!
"Okay, cool it for a few minutes," he ordered his subordinates, "Let me see what the boss wants to do."
"Hey, Lieutenant, tell him you think we ought to evacuate this place," complained one of the men.
"What are we going to do, sit over at the cafe and do business there?" snapped the lieutenant.
"Let's just hope the damn thing goes off tonight when we're all in bed, and we can pick up the pieces tomorrow."
The men dropped tiredly into chairs while the lieutenant straightened his tie and reported into Captain D'Agostinelli's office. No one had quite taken the measure of their new commanding officer yet, even though he had been with them for a week. The man was young to be head of such an important office, and his mind seemed to work like a computer, but he was also tough and stern, so much so that neckties were always to be straight in his presence. But he was apparently kind as well, since when one of the men had a death in the family, the captain had sent flowers at his own expense and given the man a few days off. And finally, he was cool. The suspicion that they were sitting on a bomb which could blow them all to smithereens thirty seconds from now did not seem to be affecting the captain very much. He had been at his desk since early that morning, working steadily while he had polluted the atmosphere with his ever-present pipe, but if the strain was getting to him, he was showing no sign of it.
"Anything yet, Giuseppe?" he asked the lieutenant, looking up from a report he had been reading.
"Nothing yet, sir. I'm beginning to wonder if our informant has let us down."
"Has he ever been wrong before?"
"No, that's the strange part of it. His information has always been completely accurate before, which leads us to believe that he must be close to someone very high up in the party structure. But this time, he couldn't give us any particulars for some reason."
D'Agostinelli dragged on his pipe, making a wheezing sound as the air passed through the burning tobacco, and motioned the lieutenant into a nearby chair.
"Of course, I'm new to this case, but I've dealt with informants before. It strikes me that he may have been deliberately vague about wjien and where the explosive was being placed in order to protect himself. He probably figured he could keep us happy by tipping us to the fact that a bomb attack was to be made, and felt that if he told us everything, we'd pick it up too easily and the party would know there was a traitor in their midst."
"I think you're right, Captain," agreed the lieutenant, "He doesn't want us shaking his ladder. Pity we can't get in touch with the guy." "Well, maybe they haven't even tried to put the damn thing in yet, or tried and got scared off by the guard. I guess we can call it quits for the night. Is the bomb disposal squad still here?"
"Yes sir. I told them to wait until everyone was out of the office. Shall we let them go for the night?"
"Might as well. Nothing for them to disarm if we can't find that ordinance, is there? You'd better take off too, you're looking pretty tired. Or is it just that my pipe smoke is finally getting to you?"
The lieutenant flashed a grin, jubilant at the news that he was going to get his dinner at a decent hour.
"You do lay down a smoke screen, Captain, but I see they've equipped you with an air conditioner."
"Yeah, I guess the chief of police isn't taking any chances on me gassing the whole office. See you bright and early tomorrow, Lieutenant?"
As the lieutenant left to dismiss the men for the night, D'Agostinelli sat with his feet on the desk, grappling with the problem in his mind. No, there was no question about it; they had to go on working in this office until the bomb could be found and disarmed. Otherwise they might be sitting in temporary quarters for a year while the engineers tore the office apart brick by brick. And after all, the whole thing might have been an elaborate practical joke.
Except that Maoist revolutionaries were not known for their sense of humor!
What the hell is wrong with those people? he asked himself crossly, getting up to stretch his legs and wandering aimlessly around his new office. In Italy everybody can vote, and if this Arrazzo character thinks it would be better for us to throw out the constitution and run Italy on the basis of the thoughts of Chairman Mao, why doesn't the son-of-a-bitch run for office and give the people a chance to decide? Because he wouldn't get a thousand votes, obviously, so he gets frustrated and decides to blow up Captain D'Agostinelli. And what good is that going to do? There's a lot of cops in Italy. Blow me up, and some lieutenant gets a promotion and takes over my job. There's enough real problems in the world without these assholes creating artificial ones!
D'Agostinelli's eyes swept tiredly over the rows of books he had inherited from his predecessor, as if he were irrationally hoping that the answer to the world's problems would jump out and hit him. His eyes stopped on a volume with a striking red cover: The Thoughts of Chairman Mao. His interest aroused, he pulled the book off the shelf, deciding to read it in the hopes of understanding better the kind of characters he was up against. On his way back to his desk, he decided that the atmosphere was getting stuffy, and halted for a moment in front of the new air conditioning unit, studying the dials. Just as he had located the on-off button, the telephone rang. He picked up the receiver, hearing the gruff voice of the chief of police who was demanding to know the status of the situation.
"No sir ... we haven't found it... we're not even sure there's one here, but it's a big office ... yes sir ... "
The police chief rambled on, suggesting that D'Agostinelli evacuate the office, or at least not sit around the place all evening tempting fate. The Captain listened patiently and then pointedly tried to change the subject.
"Well, if we're going to be blown up, we'll go breathing fresh air," he joked. "Thanks for the air conditioner. You must have heard about my pipes."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The air conditioner..." D'Agostinelli faltered, a sinking feeling coming over him as he stared across the room at the sparkling new machine. 'The workmen who installed it said that you ... "
"I don't know anything about any air conditioner," responded the police chief in a puzzled tone, but he was speaking to dead air. D'Agostinelli had dropped the phone on the desk, and was moving like a bullet out into the hall, shouting for the demolition squad who were just in the act of transferring their equipment out into the hall for the night.
The three engineers all looked chagrined at having overlooked the possibility that the bomb might have been concealed in the air conditioning unit, and extremely unhappy about the idea of being now obliged to disarm it, but they were professionals, and there was no grumbling as they shouldered their equipment and marched back into the captain's office.
"Sorry sir, you'll have to wait outside," said the sergeant who commanded the team.
"Goddamn it, that's my office!"
"Right sir, but it's our bomb!" D'Agostinelli found the door closed in his face, realizing that the business of disarming a bomb was tricky enough without having a nervous captain hanging over one's shoulder. He cursed when he realized that he had left all of his pipes and tobacco lying on his desk, which meant he would have to wait it out without smoking.
Fortunately, he did not have long to wait.
A tremendous blast from his office sent him sprawling across the cold marble floor, and the old building seemed to hiccup and weave for a moment like a drunken man. D'Agostinelli's head slammed into a desk as something landed on top of him, and for an instant he was too dazed to realize that the door to his room had been detached from its hinges and had sailed across the room to collide with his prostrate body. As he sat up, shaking his head and looking around him at the wreckage, he could see that there was broken glass everywhere. From other parts of the building, he could hear shouting, but from the scene of the explosion, there was no sound at all.
Lorenzo D'Agostinelli got to his feet, knowing already what he was going to find in his shattered office, but realizing that he was going to have to go and look anyway. His legs were shaky, but he made it to the doorway, his stomach turning over as he viewed what was left of the police department's best bomb disposal squad. The sergeant had evidently started to remove the front panel of the air conditioning unit, since his legs were still lying beneath what had once been a window. His head, on the opposite side of the room, seemed strangely unharmed, almost as if it were still alive, and on his face there was still a quizzical, puzzled expression. The eyes were opened wide, as if the old bomb expert were still studying the problem, planning his next move. The torso was just gone, except for bits of bone and guts which were pasted in oozing fragments on filing cabinets and coat racks and even hanging in long bloody streamers from the ceiling.
His two assistants were lying right and left of the window, one of them minus a head and arms, and the other horribly mangled, but still in one piece, probably killed more by the concussion of the explosion than anything else. He was lying on his back, his' spine impossibly twisted, one of his blood-spattered shoes sitting on D'Agostinelli's desk.
There was still a head and one arm left unaccounted for, but it was not Lorenzo's job to pick up the dismembered portions of human bodies. Stepping carefully over a slowly expanding pool of blood, the captain found his pipe and an undamaged pouch of tobacco in the corner. Singed, but still readable, The Thoughts of Chairman Mao lying next to the sergeant's head. D'Agostinelli put the volume into his pocket and walked out of the shattered office, his face livid with unquenchable rage.
Chapter Five
"They're coming?" she asked, her shoulders trembling as she sat on the edge of Arrazzo's bed, continually conscious of the fact that she was naked beneath her dressing gown. The Maoist leader dragged deeply on his Turkish cigarette, looking at her with poorly concealed contempt and amusement. Amazing, these bourgeoisie women, he chuckled scornfully to himself. There she is, trying desperately to convince herself that she's horrified at the notion of a gangbang, and yet she'd cum if you touched her with a feather right now. Things would be so much easier if she'd break down and admit she's a whore. But then again, if she knew that she had the hottest pair of pants in Rome, and decided to enjoy herself, she'd lose that virginal way of acting and I'd lose my power over her.
"They should be here shortly," he answered slowly. "They will come into this room and make love to you, all five of them. Some of them have very strange tastes, and they will probably do unusual things to you, things which have never entered your poor little mind. Does the idea please you?"
"No ..." she insisted, a quiver in her voice. "I know I made a fool of myself the other night with you and Aldo, but that doesn't mean I'm a ... a person who does it all the time. I'm a serious individual!"
"Ah, you are, little one, and that's why we need you. Revolution is a very serious business and the war for communism, as Chairman Mao has often told us, can be fought on many fronts. The men who blew up that police office tonight are fighting one way, and you have been chosen to fight in another way. Tonight, your body will be placed at the disposal of these loyal party workers, but in the near future, we will have other tasks for you, and your beauty will be a most useful tool for our continuing struggle against this capitalistic society.
"But I can't... I don't want to ... " the girl sobbed, her long silky black hair falling over her face as she shook her head back and forth in an agony of despair.
"You know perfectly well you have no option, no choice whatsoever," he informed her coldly. "Tonight's little orgy will be a reward for heroic revolutionaries, but it will primarily be a training exercise for you. Domenica, you must learn to put your body at the service of the party, and our loyal comrades who are sacrificing their valuable time to teach you how!"
There was a noise at the door, and Arrazzo rose and disappeared. Domenica rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, nearly hysterical with horror over the humiliation and degradation which was now staring her in the face. It was not so much the prospect of pain that she minded, but the ever-present danger that she might once again lose control over herself. A few nights ago, Arrazzo and Aldo had demonstrated quite clearly that there was a whole forbidden, lustful side to her personality that she had never even known existed ...
The door opened, and the bombing team came in, jubilant at their success. They had waited long hours outside the police headquarters in a parked car, listening for the sound of an explosion, the shatter of glass and the screams of panic had been their dubious reward. Right now the Anti-Subversive's Office must be re-assembling the scattered pieces of their leader's body, and wondering who would be his replacement. And for the men who had struck this heroic blow for the revolution of the oppressed masses, another certain little reward had been promised ...
One by one they filed into the room, lustful smiles on their hardened faces. First came Pigroni, the muscular athletic engineer who had designed and built the bomb, followed by Rossi, the tall swarthy Venetian who had expertly wired the explosive charge so that it could not be disarmed without killing whomever tried to tamper with it. Rossi was particularly proud of that final little touch, a very nice little piece of circuitry which ensured that they had to kill someone. And in a police headquarters, that someone was certain to be a cop!
"Comrades, it looks like we have our work cut out for us!" joked a fat husky man named Bruni, a political organizer who had studied communist subversion in Albania. "That little bomb down at police headquarters is nothing compared to the explosions we're going to see tonight!"
"I don't know," commented Taloni, a slender youthful-looking man who was a specialist in student demonstrations. "She looks a little reluctant to me. What's the matter, Domenica? Don't you want to reward your heroic comrades? We just killed a cop tonight!"
"Stay away from me!" threatened the girl, curling her legs up underneath her and trying to crawl away across the expanse of Arrazzo's large bed. "Don't touch me! I don't want..."
"You don't want what?" inquired Pigroni cruelly, kneeling on the bed and reaching over quickly to seize the hem of her dressing gown. Arrazzo had insisted that she wear just this flimsy garment over her nakedness, and as the frightened girl tried to pull away from the demolition expert, the fragile material ripped along the seam just over her smooth creamy shoulder, exposing the fullness of one sensuous young breast.
"Mmmmm, I see something I like," chuckled the fifth member of the execution squad, a blonde Milanese law student named Bellina. "What will it be, gents? Do we draw straws?"
"Let's get her naked, first," advised Pigroni, wrestling the struggling girl flat on her back and then attacking the buttons on her gown. "I like to see what I've got to work with."
The group was accustomed to working as a team, and there was no further discussion. The bed creaked in protest as five men climbed aboard, some of them taking the trouble to remove their pants in advance while the others ripped the dressing gown from Domenica's helplessly writhing body, stripping her stark naked in an instant.
For Domenica, it was like the worst nightmare she could have possibly imagined. There were men all over her, and the bed was a sweltering mass of confusion. As soon as they had torn away the only garment she had been wearing, the revolutionaries pinned her arms to the mattress and then yanked her thighs far apart. Her back arched temptingly as she gyrated her smoothly sensuous body in a desperate effort to escape, but there were too many men, and she would not have stood a chance against even the weakest one among them. Pigroni was kneeling over her, his flaccid uncircumsized penis dangling from his open fly and his eyes laughing as he watched her futile struggles.
"Protesting a little too much, aren't you Domenica? Arrazzo told us about the other night. We know how much you like it and if you enjoyed it with two guys, imagine the fun it's going to be with five!"
"How about a blow job all around just to get us warmed up?" suggested Bellina eagerly, rubbing his slowly rising cock with his hands as he crouched over the Sardinian woman's succulent young breasts.
"No, it's no fun if you have to force her,"
objected Taloni, who was something of a philosophical purist in these matters. "Let's concentrate on getting her warmed up first. How about letting Bruni do his act?"
There was a chorus of lewd approval to this mysterious suggestion, and Domenica's panic-stricken eyes widened with apprehension as she watched the short fat man named Bruni circle around the bed until he was kneeling between her obscenely spread thighs.
"Get your clothes off, comrade," called someone. "We want to see that beautiful body of yours!"
Bruni grinned avidly and pulled the sweater he was wearing over his head, exposing a fat chest and rolls of lard around his waist. The man was enormously strong, as corpulent people frequently are, and Domenica groaned as she watched him lower his pants, revealing an incredibly thick short cock which was already beginning to swell with rampant desire.
"Come on, Bruni, she doesn't care about your fat cock!" laughed Pigroni, his face lighting up with cruel amusement as he watched the unwilling young woman writhe in terror. "Show her that magnificent tongue!"
A roar of obscene laughter rumbled through the group as the robust man made a face at the girl, sticking out his tongue at her and wagging it lewdly back and forth as he positioned himself between her outstretched thighs. A kind of paralysis swept over Domenica's body as his gleaming face sank deliberately down toward her nakedly exposed vaginal slit, and she realized precisely what Bruni was about to do to her. While the others held her fast, this repulsive colossus of a man was going to do his best to whip her into a lather of orgiastic excitement, and if he was able to accomplish his depraved mission, Domenica knew that she would have lost her last fragile claim to moral decency!
"She's dying for it, Bruni," called someone the dark-haired girl could not see, and the next thing she knew, the lips of the corpulent revolutionary had melted into the softly yielding flesh of her quivering vagina. She tried to wrench herself free from his forced oral caresses, but there were four strong men holding her down, and she had no room left to maneuver. An unwelcome stream of pleasure surged up her backbone to the nape of her neck as his hps gently explored the vaginal crease between her legs, searching for the tiny bud of her clitoris. With considerable expertise, Bruni brought his hands into play, using his thumbs to expose the folds of her cunt to his lips like a man unwrapping a piece of candy.
"Noooooooooooh," she moaned, feeling another electric charge of illicit sensation as his snakelike tongue stabbed unexpectedly up into the cringing little passageway of her vagina. Brum's mouth was wide open now, and he was eating her pussy like a birthday cake, his upper lip stimulating the slowly expanding tip of her clitoris while his tongue did its evil work on the super-sensitive walls of her cuntal furrow.
"Go get her, comrade!" urged Pigroni sadistically as if he and the others were ticket-holding spectators at some depraved medieval sport and Domenica was the star performer. The other men had rid themselves of their clothing and were crowding anxiously around her luscious naked body on the softness of the mattress, eagerly awaiting their turns to assault the vulnerable young girl. To Domenica, it seemed as if she had somehow stumbled into a nightmare world of male genital organs. There were cocks all round her, long thin cocks, short fat cocks, circumsized and uncircumsized, and the only thing they had in common was the fact that they were all rigid and quivering with ill-disguised anticipation!
Her eyes widened with dismay at what was being done to her defenseless body, the girl stared down between the two magnificent orbs of her breasts at Bruni's massive face. The corpulent man caught her eye and grinned lasciviously back at her, delighted to know how profoundly he was affecting her superficially protesting composure. The tongue treatment always works, he told himself with obscene self-satisfaction, and then went back to work on her vagina in earnest. With a painfully deliberate motion of his hands, he slowly drew apart the wetly pulsating layers of her cunt, baring to the lust-stricken eyes of the men around him the pink moist flesh of her pussy. A murmur of blatant sexual hunger passed through the room as the four spectators saw the carnal delights that were in store for all of them as Bruni's head ducked back down, thrusting the length of his slithering tongue up into the sensitive mouth of her cunt.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" she groaned in something like despair, her hips gyrating with a will of their own as she struggled to avoid this criminal stimulation of her unprotected vagina. His tongue was plunging furiously into her now, stimulating all the tiny sensitive little nerve endings inside of her involuntarily dilating cunt and washing obscenely over the struggling little button of her clitoris, each stroke taking her to a new and higher plain of excitement.
It's no use, she told herself in agony. It's starting all over again! Oh God, don't let them win! I don't want to be a whore!
But an unfettered sexual frenzy was sweeping over her whether she wanted it or not, and the girl shuddered, feeling her weakened body begin to surrender despite her best efforts to keep a tight rein on her turbulent emotions. Down deep near the pit of her stomach, she could already feel the faint tinges of growing need, and her hips were undulating slowly in time to Bruni's slashing tongue attacks on the hidden intimacy of her cunt. The elephantine Maoist revolutionary was buffeting her succulent young body around on the bed as he surged his tongue tirelessly up into her aroused cuntal sheath, and each time he rocked her voluptuous body back and forth on the mattress, the succulently shimmering mounds of her breasts swayed temptingly back and forth. Her breasts were painfully swollen now, particularly since the men around her could not keep their hands off of them, and her tiny brown nipples seemed to become firmer and tauter with every roughly demanding caress.
"Comrades, he's done it again," announced Pigroni, a little awed, by the rapid and profound change sweeping over the girl's ravished breathtaking features. At his signal, the two men holding Domenica's arms released her, and the girl's hands stretched wantonly down to cup the back of Bruni's head, as if she were actually trying to force his wildly probing tongue even farther up into the piquant depths of her seething young cunt. There was a fine fragrant layer of sweat covering her unblemished white skin from head to toe, and the pungent musky smell of female lust rilled the air as the sex-glands in her vagina began secreting copious amounts of orgiastic juices. The fat man had tongue-fucked her into a frenzy, and it was obvious to every one of the men that she was totally out of her head with desire now. The ferocious passion that Bruni had ignited beneath the surface of that flat smooth belly was raging out of control, and Domenica was theirs to maneuver and manipulate in whatever degrading manner they wished to dream up.
"Oh yes . .. yes ..." she was suddenly groaning, after so many minutes of saying no, "Yes ... like that. harder ..."
For Domenica, the surrender had come quickly, almost naturally, as if she were being swept along involuntarily by the swirling waters of some raging river and being dragged inexorably toward an overpowering whirlpool of uncontrollable desire. The thought that she was being eternally humiliated and disgraced had retreated to the back of her conscious mind now, and all she could think about was the great cavernous emptiness within her lust-crazed vagina. There, down between her outstretched thighs, there was a hole, a cunt which needed desperately to be filled. All around her there were strong cocks jutting out from the hair-covered loins of leering men. What were they waiting for? They had come here tonight to fuck, and it no longer made any difference to Domenica how it was done, so long as someone sent his turgid shaft of rigid flesh driving up into the moistly inviting tunnel of her cunt and satisfied this restless yearning hunger that churned deep within her sex-starved loins.
"Oh please..." she mumbled almost incoherently, knowing that she was shaming herself forever with those words. "Go ahead and fuck me . . . I'm ready!"
"Keep it up just a minute longer, comrade," Pigroni ordered Bruni quickly, leaning forward, contemplating a plan to torture the girl a little more. "I like to hear a woman beg for it."
Pig-like, Bruni grunted his consent, continuing to slaver fiendishly into the girl's quaking loins while Pigroni maneuvered himself into position beside her, his long powerful cock pulsating hotly only a few inches from her panting mouth.
"So you want a little, comrade?" he goaded her cruelly. "Do I understand that you want us to fuck you?"
Domenica knew that he was deliberately being merciless, trying to break her all the way down to a rutting female animal, and she hated to let him humiliate her like this, but she was too far gone now with prurient desire to rally her courage and make a moralistic stand against him. Besides, he was all too right! She wanted to be fucked! As hard as they could do it, and as fast!
"Give it to me," she pleaded, too lost in her relentless need to care how much she sounded like a whore.
"Where, little comrade?" he persisted mockingly. "In the ass? Or perhaps in the mouth?"
"No ... oh Christ. .. please. Put it in my vagina. Don't you understand? I want to be fucked in the vagina!" she heard herself screaming.
"I know you do, Domenica," hissed Pigroni smoothly, flicking his hips forward so that the fleshy red tip of his long circumsized organ brushed lewdly against her pleading lips. "But I heard how you did such an expert blow job on Arrazzo, and it would be a shame to let that kind of talent go to waste."
Despite the fog and confusion in her lust-clouded mind, Domenica understood immediately the kind of vile sexual blackmail with which Pigroni was threatening her. If she refused to suck the cock he was thrusting confidently in her face, he would deny her the one thing she desperately wanted in the world right now: the presence of a man's stiffened penis driving up into her over-stimulated vagina. She really had no choice in the matter anyway, since she knew from past experience that if she refused to allow him to violate the sanctuary of her mouth, he would then proceed to rape her there by force. And between the smoothly gleaming columns of her frantically jerking thighs, Bruni was raising absolute hell with his tongue, sucking her tiny pearl-like clitoris into his mouth and kneading it gently with his teeth until she was going out of her mind with animalistic lust to be filled to capacity with the swollen length of some man's, any man's rampaging cock. Groaning with an unwanted but irrepressible sense of submission, she took and gently grasped Pigroni by the stout root of his rigidly upright penis and drew his burgeoning cockshaft toward her open mouth.
After having been forced to perform this depraved act on Arrazzo, Domenica had come to realize that the pleasure involved in sucking a cock was not totally one-sided, and she remembered how she had nearly gone insane with perverse delight when the party leader had emptied his burning sperm into her gulping throat. And Domenica was now so crazed by rampant lust that she was ready to do almost anything to satisfy the raging fires of carnal longing that were blazing out of control deep within her loins. But whether she enjoyed fellatio or not, the delirious young woman realized that she was not going to get what she wanted until Pigroni got his evil satisfaction by shooting his pent-up semen into her willing mouth. And the harder she sucked him, the faster he would cum!
There was a tiny drop of semen clinging to the end of his long thick cock, and Domenica flicked it away with her tongue, knowing that she would have to tease him a little. Pigroni grunted with satisfaction as he felt her hot breath blow over his cum-laden testicles, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing the bulbous scarlet head of his cock shaft between the two inviting ovals of her parted lips. Domenica was long past fighting back, and she accepted this brutal oral invasion, kissing the bulging glans moistly and then opening her mouth even wider to enclose the entire circumference of his cockhead within the warmly embracing chamber of her mouth.
"Right, comrade, you're learning fast!" Pigroni congratulated her obscenely, as the others crowded anxiously around, not wanting to miss an instant of this depraved performance. For Domenica, it was difficult to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing to Pigroni with her mouth, since hunched between her widely-spread legs the ponderously fat Bruni was still driving her wild with his flailing tongue. With what little willpower she still possessed, the black-haired Sardinian girl flashed her tongue experimentally over the broad throbbing shaft of Pigroni's cock and closed her lips tightly around him, creating a perfect seal.
Knowing that this was liable to be the finest blow job of his entire life, Pigroni decided not to go to the bother of stretching the experience out longer than it was meant to last, and began fucking jubilantly in and out of her cruelly stretched mouth. Half out of her mind now with lewd delight at doing something as totally depraved as sucking a strange man's cock, Domenica began drawing his ravishing penis farther and farther toward the back of her throat.
Domenica tried to imagine what this depraved scene must look like, with one man burrowing fiendishly between her splayed thighs while another stuck his long glistening cock into her eagerly sucking mouth. Her hands sought out the heavy swaying sac of his testicles, and she began to run her fingers teasingly along the supersensitive ridge of flesh between his anus and the beginning of the scrotum. The effect was almost immediate! The man seized her head with urgent desire, pulling her forward while ramming his bludgeoning cock all the way into her throat, so far that her nose was buried in the black curly strands of his pubic hair, forcing her to gasp for breath.
Pigroni looked down on Domenica triumphantly as he fucked violently up into her hotly sucking mouth, knowing that this moment was more than worth the danger he had faced earlier in the day. He was going to fill her mouth with sperm and all the force in his rock-hard penis, and then hold her head so that she would be forced to swallow or choke to death!
"Mmmmmmmmmmm," groaned the girl in sheer wanton ecstasy as she felt the length of his pistoning penis suddenly swell to its full dimensions as if it were about to explode. Domenica had now completely forgotten about everything else in the world, her shame and humiliation, the dark criminal plotting going on around her, and even the explosion at police headquarters which was the occasion for this depraved celebration. All the sex-demented girl could think of in this wildly debauching moment was the pillaging cock she held between her lips, and the lewd reward she had been promised if she succeeded in making Pigroni discharge his hot sticky cum into the depths of her mouth.
Then it happened! The burning seed began to stream forth, racing from the revolutionary's lust-bloated testicles through the slender tubes in his body and out the inflamed tip of his frenziedly ejaculating penis. The desecrated girl groaned with immoral ecstasy as she felt the first surge of his white-hot sperm splashing into the back of her welcoming throat, and her Adam's apple bobbed convulsively as she swallowed, mindlessly determined not to lose a single drop of the lust-inciting life-fluid. Domenica gagged and choked as the man's thick cum swamped her throat, but she gulped away courageously, knowing that she had to suck him dry if she was to receive the skewering cock in her aching cunt that Pigroni had promised her.
Aldo opened the door to Arrazzo's private office, finding the party leader standing next to the wall and gazing through a two-way mirror at the erotically stimulating spectacle going on in the next room. Arrazzo turned, a smile of lascivious delight on his warped and ugly face
"She just sucked off Pigroni as if she'd been doing it all her life," the Maoist leader commented excitedly as if he were reporting the results of a soccer match. "They're getting ready to fuck her now."
But Aldo seemed uninterested in the sordid debauchery in the next room. After a quick glance over Arrazzo's shoulder, he turned away, his face serious.
"Listen, I just caught the late news on the television. Our lover boys in there didn't get D'Agostinelli."
"What?" snarled Arrazzo, suddenly incensed.
"The cop was standing in the next room when the bomb went off and got away with a few cuts from flying glass. There was a bomb disposal team trying to take it apart, and they must have triggered Rossi's self-destruction device. So we got somebody, but not the man we were after."
Arrazzo walked away from the mirror and threw his deformed body disgustedly into a chair, his hands immediately reaching for the Turkish cigarettes he always smoked. His face was angry but under control.
"This confirms what I've been thinking for a long time..." he said slowly. "The only question is this: which one of them is it?"
"Is what?" muttered the Sicilian stupidly, not following what his leader was saying.
"Is a traitor! Look at what's happened to us in the past six months, Aldo! We plan a demonstration and the police are there in force before we get our forces mobilized. In the fire-bomb attack on that church, they picked up Grassini and nearly captured us. When we tried to occupy the university at Christmas, they had tear gas stored right on campus, ready to be used against us. What does this add up to?" "Well, it doesn't necessarily mean ..." "Use your head, comrade! That charge of explosives went off while a bomb disposal team was trying to disarm it! Do you think
D'Agostinelli keeps a crew of demolition experts under his desk all day? No, they were there because he was expecting to be hit. HE KNEW IN ADVANCE!"
For a moment Aldo was silent, as if overwhelmed by the implications of what his leader was saying. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at the squad in the next room.
"It could be one of them, or any member of the executive council for that matter," he suggested. "Or maybe the cops have got a hidden microphone somewhere ..."
"Impossible, the Chinese technical team swept this place just a month ago and it was clean. And who could plant a bug but some member of the council? And who could plant a bug but some member of the council? No, one way or another, we have a police spy on our hands!"
"What do we do?"
"It's in the operation manual, idiot! First, we reduce operations to an absolute minimum, and expose ourselves to the least amount of danger. D'Agostinelli could arrest us all right now if he wanted to, but he knows he hasn't got a thing on any of us and we'd all be out again in a week. What he needs is evidence, and we have to avoid giving him any until we can find out which member of the council is a traitor."
"And how do we do that?" Aldo asked, his eyes stealing involuntarily to the lewd spectacle taking place in the adjoining room.
"We counter-attack! I'm going to plant a spy, one of our people, right in his back pocket!
"A spy! But who? Any one of us would be dead if he tried ...
"No, there's one of us who has all the qualifications."
"But who?"
"I think I'll keep that to myself for the moment. We've got to start thinking more about security in this organization. From now on, no one is told anything they don't absolutely need to know!"
For a moment, the two Maoist chieftains stared at one another, Aldo seeming a little offended at not being included fully in his leader's plans.
"Well," muttered the big Sicilian muscle-man finally, "If you don't want to tell me, I suppose you don't have to. Guess I'll go and join the others."
"With Domenica?"
"Yeah, with Domenica! You got any other cunts around here?" Aldo reacted aggressively. "I still haven't had my fun with our little
Sardinian comrade.
"Stay away from her!" snapped Arrazzo sharply. "And that's an order!"
For a moment, it seemed inevitable that the huge Sicilian was going to fly into a rage, perhaps even attacking the Maoist leader. But Aldo was strangely afraid of Arrazzo, and he controlled himself with difficulty.
"Why? You get to fuck her. And they get to fuck her. What's wrong with me?"
"I've got big plans for our friend Domenica, very important plans~ and I need her in one piece. She's no good to me if she has to spend two months in the hospital with stitches in her ass because you got excited and lost control. Remember what you did to that other girl!"
"For Christ's sake, I just want to fuck her!" grumbled Aldo, "And I'll be careful."
"Once you get excited, you forget about being careful. And I don't want her cunt stretched so bad nobody else can use it."
"Goddamn, Arrazzo, my cock isn't that big!" pleaded the Sicilian.
"If you fucked her with that log of yours, she wouldn't be able .to walk for a week! And besides, you're never satisfied with cunts, are you? You'd forget everything and fuck her in the ass, and then we'd have a bunch of doctors asking us questions which would be hard to answer."
"It's not fair."
"You can have her when we're finished with her," promised Arrazzo, his voice softening a little. "After she does the job I have in mind for her, we won't be able to use Domenica for anything else, and it would be just as well if she were silenced, since she's not all that reliable politically anyway. When she outlives her usefulness to the party, you can take her off to the country and fuck her until she drops dead if you want to. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Ah, I never did a thing like that," murmured Aldo, looking away and dreaming of such a rewarding adventure.
"Really? I have some documents in my- files which lead me to believe it wouldn't be the first time you've fucked somebody to death, Aldo. Be patient, comrade, and little Domenica will be yours to fuck to your heart's content."
Chapter Six
At this moment in time, Domenica Sotgiu was not thinking very clearly, and in fact it would not be exact to describe what was going on in her lust-inflamed mind as thinking at all. There were crystal-like droplets of cum slowly drying on her flawless cheeks, but she paid no attention to them as her body gyrated with one single driving desire.
Cock! More than anything else in the world, she needed her empty hungering cunt filled, crammed full of hard rippling cock, and nothing else would do. Blindly, she seized Bruni by the ears, dragging him up over her long lust-provoking body, her legs scissoring lewdly apart and her hips rising up in an unmistakable invitation.
"Oh fuck me .. . please ..." she groaned, so aroused that she was no longer capable of feeling shame. "Don't torture me any more! Give me what I need!"
Bruni tried to hold back for just a minute, knowing that he had eaten pussy much too long, arousing both himself and Domenica far beyond the optimum point, and he needed just a moment to let his throbbing cock subside from the edge of orgasm. There was a sound of coarse laughter at his predicament as the others watched the drops of sperm oozing from his overheated glans, knowing that he was in danger of cumming even before he got the opportunity to plunge his hotly yearning member into the softness of the dark-haired girl's sensual body. But Domenica was too far gone to be conscious of this fact, and the moment the corpulent Maoist revolutionary raised himself up on all fours over her, the sex-driven girl wiggled her slippery body down under his mammoth sagging stomach, her hands busily exploring for the swollen male organ she needed so desperately in her seething pussy.
"Goddamn, wait a fucking ..." the fat man started to object, but the girl was too fast for him, and, in another instant, she had captured his short thick penis in her hands, arched her loins up to meet his and impaled herself on his stiffened staff. Then, with an insane animalistic groan, she wrapped her arms and legs around his torso and hung there, rocking her lithe young body back and forth, forcing his erected penis in and out of her thirsty cunt.
"You started it, Bruni!" laughed Pigroni mercilessly. "Now finish it!"
"Hey, I think she's trying to tell you something!" joked Rossi obscenely.
"All right you little nympho, if you want to fuck, then let's fuck!!!" snarled the fat man, not at all happy at having Domenica seize the initiative. Suddenly releasing the tension on his elbows, he allowed his heavy body to crash down resoundingly on the girl's slender frame, hoping to slow her down by knocking the wind out of her. Domenica gasped, but the passionate Sardinian blood in her veins was too hot to deny, and her lust-torn body continued to gyrate madly around Bruni's passion-bloated cock. Realizing how little time he had, Bruni began fucking savagely in and out of her inflamed cuntal moistness, hoping to save face by satisfying her wildly uncontrollable desire before the pressure on his over-stimulated cock-shaft became too much for him.
"Oh fuck it, fuck it... " Domenica crooned in ecstasy as the man surged into her with one pile-driving lunge after another, the rolls of fat on his chest sweeping heavily over her lush young breasts and stimulating her more than ever. Doing his best under difficult circumstances, Bruni leaned forward, his mouth open, and plastered his fat lips over her face, only to find her tongue swarming madly into his mouth and sucking his tongue deeply into her throat. The girl was straining fiercely against him, wiggling her buttocks furiously as she strove for the sexual release she so desperately craved, but something was wrong. Even with the confused, half-demented state of mind she was in, she sensed that this man was not going to do what she needed done.
"Deeper," she pleaded hoarsely, her eyes rolling with unsatisfied desire. "Fuck deeper!"
Earnestly, the man gave his all, shoving his pulsating cock up into the yearning passageway of her clenching vagina, until his sperm-heavy testicles beat a dark red tattoo against the ripe upturned cheeks of her ass. Sensing that she would not mind a little roughness at a moment like this, Bruni doubled his pace, slamming his loins into the moist softness of her belly without remorse, trying to force her to a climax with brute force alone. Domenica reacted with all the hot-blooded Italian femininity she possessed, issuing hoarse cries of undisguised carnal passion, her hips following the rapid motion of his loins as if the two of them were glued together and could never be separated. "I'm close ..." she moaned. "Harder..."
But suddenly, she felt his penis spasm out to its maximum dimensions, stiffening and quaking as the man's self-control began to desert him. She backed wantonly down against him, grinding her pelvis around the axis of his cock in a desperate attempt to head off his impending orgasm. But she was too late!
With a groan, the fat Maoist stabbed into her churning cunt one last time, hot angry spurts of cum jetting out of the tip of his glans and bombarding the delicate cervix in the back of her unsatisfied vagina.
"Aaaaaahh!!!" he groaned, realizing that he had failed to bring the dark-haired girl to climax, but too happy with his own orgasm to care any longer what happened to his female partner.
Domenica whimpered in utter and total frustration as she felt his once-hard cock growing rapidly limp and useless inside of her still hungry pussy.
It had been so close, like the brass ring on the merry-go-round, and tears of bitter resentment swept down over her cheeks as she pushed furiously at the man, trying to make him roll off of her overheated body and make room for another rampaging cock.
"She's tight!" protested Bruni as he slipped his glistening flaccid cock from the moistly clapping little hole in Domenica's loins. "Come on Rossi, get in there and open her up for us. You can't get a decent fuck out of a dame who's practically a virgin!"
There was a general roar of approval and the tough muscular-looking electronics engineer named Rossi crawled over, grinning in lewd anticipation. Domenica was far too aroused to do any clear thinking, but, as Rossi positioned himself between her legs, she caught a glimpse of the male organ that was jerking between his legs. A ripple of fear soared through her lust wracked young body, and she instinctively clapped her trembling hands over the firm succulent mounds of her breasts in a helpless gesture of self-defense.
Rossi seemed normal in most other respects, but jutting out of a clump of black hair in his groin was the most fearsome cock she had ever seen. It had been reasonably easy to accommodate Bruni's modest penis into the delicate tunnel of her cunt, particularly since she was so excited that the orgiastic juices within her vagina were flowing freely, but Rossi was going to be another story completely! He would rip her to pieces! It wasn't possible! No woman alive could handle that battering ram!
But it was more than too late to protest now.
Rossi knelt between her obscenely spread thighs, suggestively stroking his monstrous cock to give her the opportunity of seeing ahead of time the gigantic penis he was planning on thrusting up into her tender young belly. The girl's eyes opened wide with alarm, but she was too far gone to formulate an objection; she could do nothing more dramatic than close her eyes tightly, somehow hoping irrationally that this instrument of torture would go away on its own.
But Rossi had no intention of going away. He had been patiently waiting his turn while Pigroni and Bruni got their rocks off, and now it was his turn. Realizing that the girl's passion was slowly diminishing as fear took hold of her, Rossi delayed no longer, rocking forward so that his hard muscular chest was cushioned sensually on the soft peaks of her breasts, his pole-like penis inching its way exploringly into the cum-soaked hairs of her pussy.
"Come on comrade, get it in her," someone urged obscenely, and Domenica found that her rebellious body was reacting lustfully to his approach, even if her mind was paralyzed with fear. It made no difference how he ripped and seared his way into her womb. She had to have cock, and she had to have it now!
Rossi's turgid glans paused for a moment at the entrance to her hungrily clasping cunt, feeling its way forward like a deadly eyeless serpent while the pink flesh of the girl's fiery cunt opened before him in lewd invitation. But it was not destined to be as easy as that! The mammoth head stopped, blocked by the tight elastic circle which guarded the entrance to her vaginal passage, and for a moment, his cockshaft reached an impasse. Rossi strained, putting the powerful muscles in his thighs into action and forcing the blood-engorged tip of his penis an inch or two up into Domenica's cruelly stretched cuntal aperture.
"Aaaaaggghhh," she groaned, the pain sweeping madly over her lust-distorted young body. "No wait! It's too big! I can't take it all!"
"Stuff her Rossi!" advised Pigroni, as if this were merely an engineering problem on which the two of them were collaborating. It's now or never!"
Domenica was now*sure that the whole thing was impossible. Rossi would have to resign himself to the inexorable laws of nature and withdraw, finding his satisfaction in some other way. But Rossi showed no sign of wanting to withdraw. Instead, he grunted and skewered forward another painful inch.
"No ..." she sobbed, agony racing across her abdomen. "Please... take me in the mouth if you want, but not there! I can't stand it!"
The others were hanging over her ravaged nakedness like vultures now, and as she forced her eyes open to study their cruelly lustful faces, Domenica realized with a shock of horror that her suffering meant nothing to them. Today they had blown a police captain to smithereens, snuffing out a life as casually as one might crush an insect beneath a heel. If they split her open with their hard unyielding cocks, it would make no difference to any of them. Not one of these men had room in their hardened Maoist hearts for normal human feelings.
With one final flesh-rending shove, Rossi ploughed up into her vagina to the hilt, and the vulnerable girl's body convulsed as if she were being subjected to high-voltage electric shock. The cruelly impaling cock drove home into the hidden depths of her belly, a hot quivering pillar of muscle and blood embedded in a moistly trembling tunnel of female flesh. The pain was still with her, but her first reaction to this brutal defilement was a perverse sense of satisfaction. She had done it. She had taken that monstrous shaft into the most delicate part of a woman's fragile body, and done it without splitting up the seams. Now she could pick up where she had left off and release herself from the gut-destroying agony of carnal desire. The pain no longer made any difference because her wildly rampant desire was stronger than any hurt they could possibly inflict upon her.
For a moment Rossi held still, giving her over-strained body a chance to recover from the shock of his brutal entry, but then, to his surprise, he felt her hips slowly begin to rotate beneath him! She was ready to fuck!
Under lust-inciting circumstances like these, Rossi hardly needed an engraved invitation. And he was not the only one. As the electronics specialist began to saw forcefully in and out of the girl's overloaded young cunt. The other men began to get into the act as well, unable to wait their respective turns. From all sides, lewdly exploring hands were swarming over the ripely sumptuous contours of her body, and from outside her field of vision, a man's arm forced its way beneath the widely spread moons of her desirable firm buttocks, running a finger lecherously over the tender elastic opening of her anus.
Domenica jerked and groaned at this perverted caress, but nothing short of a bolt of lightning from the heavens would really have stopped her now. The pain was almost gone, and she was amazed to find herself wanting even more of this perverted group assault upon her all-too-willing body. There was a cock in her cunt and cocks all around her, and the entire universe seemed to be lubricated with a piquant mixture of sweat and cum as her lithe undulating body writhed its way toward an inevitable orgasm. Hands were lewdly caressing every available portion of her naked body, and the fingers under her buttocks were insinuating themselves farther and farther up between the moistly churning crevice of her ass-cheeks, but nothing really bothered her at this passion-filled point in time.
"Oh fuck me," she groaned, shame and humiliation no longer factors to be considered. "Fuck me even harder, go ahead!"
Domenica moaned a little when an anonymous middle finger slid obscenely up into the undefended elastic circle of her rectum and began probing the clenched anal passage, but the black-haired woman was too far gone to realize precisely what was going on between her buttocks, and she accepted the unnatural invasion without understanding that her virginal anus was being cruelly violated. Two men put their stiffened cocks into her hands, and she milked them "avidly, jerking them back and forth in time to the tempo of Rossi's tireless pounding of her seething cunt.
Domenica finally orgasmed, her sweat-covered body nearly rising off the bed as the ecstasy took possession of her body, but none of the men paid much attention. The burrowing finger in her anus probed deeper, and she wiggled her buttocks savagely down against it, giving a powerful pull to each of the swollen cocks she held tightly in her hands. Rossi fucked into her spasming cunt as if his life depended upon it, and Pigroni found his cock once more straining for the ceiling and plunged into her willing mouth for a second time.
"Fuck me, fuck meeee." she moaned around his invading cock-shaft, as still another explosive orgasm tore through her wildly flailing body. Rossi, spewing out the most vile obscenities, climaxed and his cock was replaced by another. Pigroni came again, groaning with obscene delight. The new man fucked into her like a jackhammer, driving Domenica into a series of orgasms which never seemed to end, as her lust-tortured mind floated away completely onto a turbulent sea of cum, oceans of sperm and sweat, a night of depraved ecstasy and carnal madness.
Chapter Seven
Lieutenant Martucci, second in command of the Police Anti-Subversive Office under Captain Lorenzo D'Agostinelli, stared out the window of their newly redecorated office, a little sad at the changing of the autumn leaves. It was already October, and yet, to the lieutenant, it seemed only a few days ago that the captain had arrived to take over the department. A lot had happened since then: the bombing and the reorganization of the entire office, and the painful adjustment to D'Agostinelli's brisk new way of doing business. First, the new boss had swept the department clean of dead wood, arranging for the reassignment of a few old-timers who were living on their laurels. Then he had collected young talent from all over Italy and assigned the hard-working newcomers to the toughest jobs he could find for them. A sweeping reorganization had shaken up the entire office, and Martucci had worked like a madman for six months, trying to carry out one innovative directive after another, knowing that he had to adapt himself to D'Agostinelli's frantic pace, or find himself another job. And, so far at least, he had succeeded in keeping the boss happy.
But the lieutenant was still sorry to see the summer pass. In July and August, Rome was like a young girl, tender, lazy, open-hearted, but winter turned her into a tough mean divorcee. The university was scheduled to reopen soon, which meant that the students, some of them communist-inspired, would be staging their usual October protest demonstrations. The reasons for the protests changed a little as the years went by, and Martucci wondered vaguely what it would be this time. The war in Vietnam was over, which had taken the wind out of their sails as far as that issue was concerned. Perhaps this year they would be demonstrating for school reform, or a change in the government. It made no difference to the police, and apparently not much difference to the students.
"Lieutenant!"
Martucci walked quickly into D'Agostinelli's room in response to the call, no longer nervous at the idea of a conversation with the captain. The boss might have a mind like a steel trap, but he was also human, a fact clearly demonstrated by the photograph of a pretty girl which had just appeared on his desk. "Yes sir!"
"Just wanted you to know I'll be taking kind of a long lunch today, Giuseppe," said Lorenzo D'Agostinelli cheerfully. "Think you can hold the fort?"
"Guess so, Captain. It's been pretty quiet these days." The lieutenant was too polite to make any direct allusion to the fact, but the captain had been taking quite a few long lunch breaks in the past month, ever since he had met the beautiful girl in the picture. His disposition had also changed for the better. D'Agostinelli had always been reasonably friendly with his men, but he was normally all business, a stern disciplinarian who suffered incompetents with a distinct lack of kindness. Recently however, the lieutenant had caught him several times gazing vacantly out the window as if he were dreaming of something or someone.
"It's a little too quiet for my taste," D'Agostinelli commented, putting his feet on his desk and lighting his pipe. "I wonder what our Maoist friends are up to? We haven't heard a thing from them since the explosion, have we?"
"No sir, but they haven't gone out of business. Our informant says that they're making plans, but he isn't sure what's going to happen next, or when."
"Well, he's always kept up pretty well in the know, hasn't he? If only his info was a little more precise!"
"Well, he's taking a real chance as it is," observed the lieutenant. "If he gave us every chapter and verse, we could over-react to a situation and make it very clear to the Maoists that a traitor is in their midst. He's got to protect himself."
"Well, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes, even if he does do it for a hell of a lot of money. By the way, leave me a memo on what he tells you today, okay? I should be leaving shortly."
The lieutenant agreed and returned to his cubicle to await the call, occupying himself by cleaning up an assortment of odds and ends. There was a Hungarian refugee in town who might or might not be a spy for the Soviets, as well as a Chinese trade delegation which needed some attentive watching. Sometimes it seemed to Lieutenant Martucci that the entire world had nothing better to do than create problems for the Deputy Chief of the Anti-Subversives Office.
At twenty minutes after one, the phone finally rang, and Martucci's stomach was rumbling unhappily with hunger as he picked up the receiver.
"Pronto?"
"This is me," said the voice distinctly, and from the sound of the traffic in the background, the lieutenant guessed that the informant was calling from a pay phone somewhere. Naturally he would be reluctant to trust a phone in his apartment or office.
"What have you got for me?" said Martucci quickly, picking up a ball-point pen and poising it over a block of note paper.
"Two items, both related, but first about the money ..."
"The money will be there, as usual," Martucci assured him. Like the average stool-pigeon, this informant was screaming day and night that he wanted more money. Well you can hardly blame him, Martucci mused, since the stake that he's risking is very high, namely his own life. Seems that people will do anything for money, even die for it.
"Okay now, listen, this is a hot one. The head of your department, D'Agostinelli, has got a girlfriend, right?"
"Could be. He doesn't discuss his love life with me."
"Her name is Domenica Sotgiu, a Sardinian woman, twenty-two years old, with long black hair and dark eyes ..."
"Good-looking . . . ?"
"What do you think? But she's one of ours! The organization set it up so that they would meet..."
"What for? Were you figuring he'd leave you alone if his sex life improved? Or are they hoping he talks in his sleep?"
"I don't know," confessed the informant. "I wasn't in on the planning, and Arrazzo set it up himself. I only found out this morning, because I overheard him giving some instructions. They're setting him up for a hit. Today!"
"What? For Christ's sakes, where and when? Give me details, man!"
"I don't know any more ..." And the phone went dead.
Martucci ran his fingers through his dose-cropped brown hair and jumped to his feet. The captain's office was empty, meaning that he had already left for his luncheon date. And there was no way of finding him. There were thousands of restaurants in Rome, and D'Agostinelli could be headed for any one of them. Martucci quickly pulled open the drawer of their files on suspected subversives who were resident in Rome, searching the "S" section for Sotgiu. There was only one card under that name. The subject was Sotgiu, Domenica, born
17 February, 1951 in Trapassi, Sardinia. Enrolled at the University of Rome, 1 October. 1968, graduated 1972 with top scholastic honors. While an undergraduate, had belonged to a Maoist front organization. Never arrested. No information subsequent to 1972 and no current address.
Obviously it would never have occurred to the captain to check his own subversive files for the girl he was dating. But how the hell were you supposed to inform your superior officer that his lady friend was a Maoist agent? Martucci did not relish the thought. On the other hand, if the Maoists were planning to assassinate him today, it might already be too late! His face hardening with desperate determination, Martucci threw himself on the telephone, dialing a number which was only to be used in great emergencies..
"Pronto: Headquarters. This is a Project Override! All available mobile squads are to search for Captain Lorenzo D'Agostinelli.
Oblivious to the fact that there were now approximately twelve thousand Italian policemen scouring the city for him, Lorenzo D'Agostinelli stopped before one of the numerous flower vendors in the park, inspected what was available, and finally settled on a bouquet of roses. He felt fairly ridiculous about the gift, but Domenica took such a childlike delight in flowers that he had fallen into the habit of bringing them every time they met.
He was truly happy for the first time in years, and there was an added spring in his step as he crunched over dry fallen leaves in the park on his way to the Riding Club where they were to meet for lunch. It was silly, he kept trying to remind himself, for a thirty-five year old bachelor policeman to get all worked up over a girl just barely out of college. How did he know she had any interest whatsoever in settling down with him on a permanent basis? They had not even been to bed yet, although it was clear that they had just about reached the point in their relationship when it was time to start thinking seriously about going beyond mere friendship.
They had met just a month before at the Riding Club, where Lorenzo had gone for a solitary luncheon in the sun. Feeling sluggish after the heavy meal, and facing a heavy afternoon at his desk, he had followed his usual practice of ordering a horse to be saddled up for a brisk ride through the park in order to settle his stomach. Following the path he normally took, the captain had emerged from a rather thick woods into a clearing, just in time to see a young woman whose mount was clearly out of control thrown roughly to the ground. D'Agostinelli had rendered appropriate assistance, helped her to her feet, determined that no bones were broken, and introduced himself.
For the following week, he had lunched every day at the Riding Club, hoping for another look at this tall full-bodied young woman, and the next time she appeared they had lunched together, chatting happily at an outdoor table in the late afternoon sun. He had been an unprecedented two hours late getting back to the office that day, starting a number of rumors among his men.
Of course, you know very little about her, he cautioned himself, having learned from hard experience that girls were not always what they seemed on the surface. She's young well-educated and fun to be with. She apparently has enough money to belong to the Riding Club and can afford an apartment in a nice section of town. She works as a model, but not very often, and she's the best-looking thing on two legs!
You could marry her, he speculated, turning down the path which led through the woods to the Riding Club. She seems very attracted to you . .. damn it, she's in love with you! Why do you keep fighting the problem? Isn't she precisely what you've been looking for all these years? And she's been waiting for you to make the first move. Make a date with her for tonight, feed her a good dinner, and then take her back to your place for cocktails. If she's as good in bed as she looks, then pop the question!
There was a movement behind him on the path, but the policeman was too engrossed in his thoughts to pay much attention. Suddenly, two shadows lunged toward him from behind a thicket of trees, and he spotted the moving black image on the ground before him at the last moment, jumping agilely to one side with only a milli-second to spare as a knife cleared through the empty air where he had just been standing.
"Pigroni, get him!" snarled a voice as D'Agostinelli whirled, and the two figures were on him in a second, their knives held low. These men were experts, both of them cool professional killers, and D'Agostinelli knew in an instant that he had his hands full. He had no time to be afraid, and even less time to go for the thirty-two caliber automatic he habitually carried under his arm. They would be all over him before he could get off a shot. But he had been a policeman for a long time, and his face was blank and impassive as he dropped instinctively into the classic Karate defensive posture, his hands up in front of him, rigid and ready. The two would-be assassins made his work easier for him by coming in for the attack one by one. The lead man was tall and powerfully built, and he stabbed viciously for the captain's stomach, confident that he would need no assistance from his back-up man.
He was wrong, because he soon needed all the help he could get. His eyes narrowing, D'Agostinelli watched him make his play deliberately holding still and presenting his stomach as a vulnerable target. Then, as the knife flashed towards his flesh, the captain suddenly feinted to the right, his hand coming down hard on the tricep just above Pigroni's elbow.
"AAAAAgggghhhh!" he screamed in anguish but the loudest sound heard in that instant was the nauseating noise of a human bone being shattered irreparably. The other man - Rossi -charged at that exact moment, but D'Agostine shifted further around to the right, using Pigroni as a shield. The man was still dangerous, even with a compound fracture of the arm, and the captain wanted the wounded man out of the way before he started on the second. Rocking back, he caught Pigroni as he turned, his right foot lashing out impossibly fast and catching the engineer hard in the testicles. Pigroni went down with a scream which was terrible to hear, and D'Agostinelli sprang over his stricken body, realizing that this was the proper psychological moment to deal with the second man.
There was fear on Rossi's face as he backed away, the knife held loosely in his hand, and the electronics engineer's highly trained scientific mind was calculating rapidly as the situation deteriorated. Once again, they had committed the terrible error of underestimating their opponent. D'Agostinelli was ten times faster than they had expected, and so contemptuous of their knives that he had not even bothered to draw the pistol he had under his jacket. Damn Arrazzo and his insistence on knives! The party leader had ordered them not to carry firearms because knives were so much quieter, and Arrazzo had wanted this to be a neat little political assassination with no loud noises. But the party leader had been wrong, and he and Pigroni were now liable to pay for that error with their lives!
The frightened Maoist backed away, but the policeman hunted him relentlessly, and Rossi knew he would have to make his move, and make it fast, if he expected to escape from this experience with his skin in one piece. Standing his guard for a second, he raised the knife over his shoulder, holding it by the blade and preparing to chance everything with a throw. But he moved a trifle too slow, and D'Agostinelli had him on the ground before the steel blade left his hand. Springing with the surging power of a lion, the captain caught the man's arm in mid-arch, driving him backwards against a tree and instantly dislocating his shoulder.
"Aaaagggg!" came the scream, but the policeman put all his weight into the blow, making sure that Rossi would never throw a knife again. The bone wrenched, cracked, and then split out of the skin, stabbing through his bicep with a thin burst of blood as D'Agostinelli ripped the arm from its socket. D'Agostinelli's mind was working fast as he ravaged the two Maoists, and the moment he realized that neither one of them represented a serious danger for the present his thoughts jumped ahead to the immediate future.
What to do now? These two had probably been part of the bomb squad which had blown up his office, killing the three demolition experts. Now they had tried again, this time with knives. What would happen if he arrested them? They would spend a few months in a hospital at government expense while their lawyers claimed that they had been framed, the victims of more police brutality. There would be a trial, and maybe they would be convicted, and maybe not, one could never tell with an Italian court. Even if they were sent to jail, their terms would be short, two or three years at the most, with time off for good behavior.
And, in the meantime, their organization would keep on trying to kill him until they eventually succeeded. The police captain knew with the instinct of a cornered jungle animal that he had to make this vicious game as dangerous for the Maoists as they were making it for him. There was no such thing as capital punishment in Italy, but this was personal combat, and their lives were already forfeit! D'Agostinelli thought of the sergeant's blood-spattered severed head laying on his desk as he quickly broke Rossi's neck, grimacing as he heard the vertebrae snap one by one until the electronics man's head dangled lifelessly against his chest. It was a painful way to die, and the policeman did not make the agony last any longer than was absolutely necessary.
He whirled just as Pigroni got to his feet, his shattered arm hanging uselessly by his side and his eyes dulled with unbearable pain. The engineer tried to run, but he was clumsy with his arm disabled, and D'Agostinelli caught him after a few yards, throwing him to the ground in a thicket. The injured young man thrashed wildly, having seen what had happened to Rossi and having formed a fairly accurate picture of what was going to happen to him, but D'Agostinelli controlled him quickly, straddling his waist and then putting one knee in the middle of the Maoist's back to pin him to the ground.
It takes more time and strength to strangle a man than is commonly supposed, and a thin layer of perspiration broke out on the captain's forehead as his fingers tightened inexorably around Pigroni's neck, searching out the critical points where the important arteries flow close to the surface. Pigroni struggled frantically, but, with one arm completely destroyed, he could not wiggle free of the iron embrace. There was a bubbling mixture of blood and spittle on his hps as he died, his eyes opened wide as he tried uselessly to drag air up into his crushed windpipe.
He had to be sure, so D'Agostinelli squeezed longer and harder than was really necessary, holding onto the Maoist's neck long after the pulse had stopped. When his own hands began to tremble with effort, he got to his feet, slightly exhausted and wondering if he were not, perhaps, too old for this line of work. In the course of his fifteen year career, D'Agostinelli had had plenty of other occasions when it had been necessary to kill men, but it had always been in strict self-defense. But when he searched his conscience for a feeling of guilt about what he had just done to these two men, he found nothing. They had it coming, these two, he thought as he pulled Rossi's body into a thicket where he would not be spotted for a few days. Then he dusted off his suit, picked up the bouquet of flowers and continued down the path toward the Riding Club. He hurried, because he had lost seven minutes killing the two Maoist assassins, and Captain D'Agostinelli did not like being late.
CrlAFTlK HGrYT
"Ah, Captain D'Agostinelli," said the head waiter as the policeman walked into the fining room of the Riding Club, "There's a message for you."
"The Signorina?" asked D'Agostinelli, instantly worried that something might have happened to Domenica.
"Yes, the Signorina is waiting on the terrace, but your office called and requested that you telephone as quickly as possible. Urgent, they said it was, sir."
The captain stepped up the the reservation desk, his finger spinning the dial on the telephone as he gazed through the window to where the tall Sardinian girl was sitting on the terrace, her profile towards him. God she's beautiful, he was thinking as the phone buzzed at police headquarters and the switchboard put him through to Lieutenant Martucci. If you don't marry that woman, you need a psychiatrist!
"Captain, are you okay?" came the voice in his ear, and D'Agostinelli immediately shut the girl out of his thoughts and concentrated on the game he had to play. Knowing what his bureaucratically-minded superiors would think of his way of handling the two Maoists, he had decided to say nothing to anyone. Their bodies would be found eventually, and Arrazzo would be able to reconstruct what had happened. But what was Martucci talking about?
"Of course I'm okay!" he retorted, as if slightly irritated. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"Our friend - you know who I mean - called just after you left and said that the Chinamen were going to make their move some time today. They could have met you on your way through the park..." Martucci suggested, saying "Chinamen" to mean Maoists.
D'Agostinelli's body stiffened, his eyes still would put two and two together fast enough, once the bodies of Pigroni and Rossi were found. The lieutenant had to be trusted, since there was no hope of deceiving him. But there was always the possibility that other ears were listening. He had to be careful.
"Look Giuseppe, don't tell anyone about what you know, and I'll explain why later. Their uh . .. sales representatives called on me, but they failed to sign me up."
"Ah, they must have been unhappy," hazarded Martucci, relieved that the crisis had come and gone.
"Yes, I think they were, shall we say, all broken up over it. So we should be all right as long as our negotiations do not become known to people who might not understand the market as well as we do."
"I'm with you, but. .. look Captain, the stock market is still very bad, explained Martucci in a strained voice, but falling into their informal code. "Are you lunching with the director of the Sardinian company? The lady with the black hair?"
D'Agostinelli's body stiffened, his eyes still focused on Domenica's regal profile as the girl relaxed in the sun, calmly waiting for him to put in his appearance.
"Yes, he breathed. "I didn't know you were aware of my negotiations with the Sardinian firm. In fact, I was thinking of proposing a merger."
"Better not. The word here is that the Sardinian company in question is a wholly owned subsidiary of that Chinese firm whose representatives contacted you earlier."
"You better be right about this, Giuseppe," D'Agostinelli whispered, barely able to hear because of the blood drumming through his ears.
"I'm just repeating what our friend told me earlier," Lieutenant Martucci insisted. "But our files indicate that the Sardinian company has been involved with this kind of marketing before. And who else knew that you would be ... shall we say . .. available today for consultations?"
That's a good question, D'Agostinelli thought somberly as he replaced the phone on the receiver, his eyes still locked on Domenica's sumptuous figure. In riding boots and breeches she looked like something out of a fashion magazine. But who else would have known that he would be walking through those woods today at precisely that time? No one but Domenica, unless she had told someone about their luncheon date. Assuming for a moment that Giuseppe Martucci was correct and that the woman he loved was one of the Maoists, what were her motives for making his acquaintance? Of course, the business of falling off of her horse could have been staged for his benefit, so long as she was tipped off that he habitually went for a ride after lunch. But why? To spy on him? Or to arrange for him to be killed?
He shook his head, trying desperately to keep his emotional life from interfering with his profession. If Arrazzo's organization had thrown her at him, she might not have known he was going to be assaulted today. In fact, if she personally thought he was never going to make it alive to the Riding Club, why did she come here in the first place?
There were lots of questions in the captain's mind as he walked slowly out to the terrace, but only one solid conviction: Domenica was not much good at hiding her emotions. He would take one look at her and know the truth.
Domenica Sotgiu relaxed in the sun, trying to let the warmth of the day bake the worry out of her system. With the money Arrazzo had given her, she had purchased this riding outfit, green gabardine jodhpurs with tan patches of suede topped by a white silk blouse, so sheer as to be almost a see-through. It was a little daring to wear in the conservative atmosphere of the Riding Club, but she knew Lorenzo would love it, and she enjoyed making him happy.
In fact, making him happy came close to being the only thing she thought about these days, but every once in a while she bobbed to the surface of the lovely romantic fog she was swimming in. And, when she did, she recognized that the whole affair was impossible. There was an old wives' tale about true love always finding its way. but this time love was going to have its hands full untangling the mess she had made of her life.
To start with, she had been sent here by Arrazzo to make the bachelor captain fall in love with her. She had done it, and her womanly intuition assured her that Lorenzo was ready to ask her to marry him. But it had not gone the way the party leader had planned. She was supposed to be ready to go to bed with the policeman the moment he asked, and get information out of him by using her body. Instead, he had treated her like a lady, putting her up on a pedestal and bringing her flowers and boxes of chocolates. He had not taken her to bed, and she had not gotten any information out of him, much to Arrazzo's displeasure.
Furthermore, she was trapped. If she told Arrazzo that she wanted to leave the organization for Lorenzo, he might well kill her. And, suppose she explained to Lorenzo that she was a Maoist spy who had been sent to entice him into compromising himself? And, suppose he found out that she was not a lady at all, but a little whore who had recently shared her bed with five men simultaneously and enjoyed every minute of it, even though the sex had been forced up her against her will?
Lorenzo would drop her like a hot potato and probably arrest her at the same time. About the only thing that she had succeeded in worming out of Lorenzo was the fact that he was not particularly fond of Maoists, especially since they had bombed his office and killed three of his best men. What would he do when he found out that she had known about the bombing ahead of time and done nothing to prevent that senseless and deadly act of perverted violence?
Lorenzo D'Agostinelli wound his way through the tables on the sun-drenched terrace, the flowers in his hand, and, when Domenica saw him, there was no mistaking the pleasure in her face as she jumped up to meet him. Hungrily, her arms went around his neck, and two elderly couples at nearby tables were appropriately shocked at the way her hips thrust against his, as if she were begging him to have wanton intercourse right there in a public place.
"Hello, Domenica," he said, a little overwhelmed by the warmth of her greeting, and now totally sure that she had known nothing of the attack on him a half-hour before. The most practiced actress in Italy could not have hidden her emotions that well. No, a Maoist she might be, but she had not conspired to see him killed.
"Darling, I've ... I mean, I'm glad to see you," she smiled at him, her hps telling him everything he needed to know. D'Agostinelli's mind worked rapidly as he analyzed the situation. God only knew how or why she had gotten mixed up with the Maoists to begin with, but she was not their type and never would be. A contest was going on in her mind, and he sensed that she was wavering back and forth between himself and Arrazzo. There was no way of telling what Arrazzo had done to ensure her loyalty to the party, but the captain could fight back. She was a prize worth winning, and Lorenzo had already chosen his weapon.
"Hey, there's been something I've been wanting to ask you - two things in fact, and I want an answer right now," he told her, hugging her succulent young body close to his. "The first is, can you cook?"
"I'm a good cook," she testified, somewhat untruthfully.
"Okay, I don't believe it because you're too beautiful."
"What's the second question?" she demanded, running her fingers through his hair.
"Can you make love?" he whispered.
She colored, but forced herself to look him seriously in the eyes.
can do that too," she told him.
""Well, you can't do either at the Riding Club," he informed her. "Let's go back to my place."
On their way back to the modest bachelor flat he had rented, Lorenzo and Domenica both hid their respective worries and problems behind a mesh of gaiety, laughing and joking, but, once the door closed behind them, it was no longer possible to keep up the act. The black haired Sardinian girl was scared, not knowing how she should react. She had been ordered to make love to this man by the Maoist organization, and she wanted to obey this particular order more than anything in the world, but how? She was no longer a virgin, and, after the working over she had received from Pigroni and the others, she was not even very innocent anymore. Certainly Lorenzo did not expect her to be a virgin, but he would not be happy if she behaved like a whore, and in the back of her mind there was an overpowering worry - she must not allow her passions to catch fire!
Silently, Lorenzo D'Agostinelli led her through his simple but tastefully decorated apartment, having completely forgotten the question of whether, or not Domenica could cook. Somehow he sensed that what he was about to do in bed with this girl would not be love at all, but a form of war. It was him against the Maoists once again, and the battlefield would be the supple young body beside him. And she was also the prize which went to the victor! It made no sense, but he understood that for her. Communism was something important, something he would have to fuck out of her system. And if he could make her surrender to him, she would have to surrender her devotion to Marxism as well. She could not love the head of the Anti-Subversive Office and Chairman Mao both!
"It's a big bed," she commented quietly as they entered his room, realizing instantly what a silly remark it was, but feeling an overpowering need to break the silence in some way. D'Agostinelli did not respond as he closed the door behind them, knowing that the battle had already begun, and deciding not to waste his energy with idle chattering. Instead, he took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. Instinct told him to be rough. This girl needed it, and gentleness he could save for later.
"Do you like my blouse?" she asked hopefully, her eyes lowered as she stood meekly before him, feeling his hands on her silk collar.
"I'll buy you another one," he muttered, and with a rough motion of his arms, he ripped the silk brutally, shredding it away from her neck to her waist. She took a quick breath, not having been prepared for the suddenness of his attack, but her body was submissive and unresisting as he pushed the torn garment over her creamy shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts, sumptuous and mature, strained at her brassiere, and the policeman released them from the imprisonment, noticing immediately that her brown nipples were already erected and hard, as if she were actually excited by the brutal way he was tearing the clothing from her voluptuously desirable young body.
Encouraged by her non-resistance, he pushed Domenica backward onto the bed, watching as she closed her eyes meekly, her hands raised over her head as if in surrender. Her breasts were high and proud, unusually large for such a slender frail girl, but Lorenzo was too impatient to see the rest of what she had to offer, and his hands attacked the belt of her riding pants. With slave-like resignation, the girl humbly raised her sleek hips into the air as Lorenzo slipped his thumbs under the elastic of her panties and stripped her completely naked with one sweeping move.
Domenica curled up on the bed, putting her hands modestly between her thighs as the captain rapidly dispensed with his own clothing, throwing his garments carelessly on the floor in his haste. It's so different, she was thinking. Arazzo was cruel and made me take off my clothes by myself while he watched and laughed. Lorenzo undresses me with his own hands! Oh, God, my pussy's starting to tingle already! I can't let him see what he's doing to me!
But the girl's vulnerable young body began to visibly shiver as the man's hand swept over the softly yielding surface of her skin, and she groaned slightly in shame as he nudged her firmly over onto her back in order to treat himself to a full view of her breath-taking body. With an effort, she lay still and let him look as long and hard as he wanted, feeling her heavy sumptuous breasts tremble as his lustful gaze roamed over her enticing curves from top to bottom.
"I love you, you know that," he said quietly, staring deep into her dark eyes.
She nodded, too full of emotion to trust her own voice.
"And I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he continued with brutal directness, stroking her flat smooth stomach as he spoke.
"Oh do it," she whispered back. "Fuck me, please! Anyway you want!"
D'Agostinelli needed no more invitation than that, and he bent over her silken smooth body, running his open mouth hungrily down from lust-provoking mountain range of her breasts and over the tantalizing softness of her stomach to the edge of the primeval forest of her pussy mound. She sobbed in growing passion as his tongue darted agilely into the hair-covered cuntal furrow, but she spread her legs slightly farther apart as if she wanted him to go ahead with this oral violation of her loins. Moving his body between her shamelessly spread thighs, Lorenzo inserted his hands beneath the two supplely yielding cheeks of her buttocks and raised her unresisting torso clear off the mattress.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" she cried faintly as he began to eat her hungrily, lapping his long burrowing tongue up into the darkly clasping moistness of her cunt until she was sure she could stand it no more. Not wanting to act like a whore, but desperately anxious to please him in any way, Domenica spread her softly yielding thighs even more widely apart, offering him the tender sacrifice of her trembling vagina.
The captain hovered over her, realizing that she was like a frightened forest animal and that one false move on his part could ruin everything. Her surrender had to be total and complete, but it must be a real surrender. She was ready to be fucked, and if she lived to be a thousand, she would never be readier than she was in this moment, but D'Agostinelli held back, wanting to arouse her to the point where she demanded to have his swollen cock drive up to the depths of her proffered pussy.
His body arched into the air and the girl's trembling hands immediately reached out to seize his throbbing penis, fully erected and jutting spear-like from the tangle of black pubic hair in his groin. Delicately, she pulled him toward her, raising her buttocks off the bed as she tried to maneuver his cock into the warmly receptive depths of her body. D'Agostinelli suppressed a grunt of passion as her fingers gently caressed his rigid manhood, pushing the thick leather foreskin back to reveal the scarlet tip of his lust-bloated glans.
Lorenzo looked down at the girl's enraptured face as she caressed him, trying to guage precisely how far he would be able to push her. Her lips were contoured into a mask of pure sensual bliss, her nostrils flaring and her tongue darting nervously in and out. Her eyes were closed, but her breath was beginning to come hard, as if she had been running.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," she was mumbling insanely under her breath as if she read his mind and wanted to consent in advance to everything he might decide to do to her. Lorenzo studied her face for a moment, his eyes hardening with lust as he watched her tongue trembling on the edge of her lips, and somehow he became possessed with a self-destructive urge to assault her in the mouth.
Lorenzo fought the notion, trying to convince himself that this one lewd act on his part would ruin everything between them, but he could not help himself. He had to fuck her there! And if she accepted his long vibrating tool into the sanctuary of her mouth, it would signify that she had surrendered completely, holding nothing back.
Moving slowly, the police official inched his way up the length of her voluptuous young body, while her hands still clung to his rock-hard cock as if she were fearful that somehow it would be taken from her. He paused a moment, straddling her body with his knees on both sides of her torso, and lecherously rubbed the moist tip of his manhood against first one of her turgid little nipples and then the other.
"Oh ... give it to me ..." she groaned as if this were all some amazing dream from which she might awaken at any moment. "Do everything to me."
Her eyes were wide open now as D'Agostinelli continued making his way towards her face, and for a long moment they looked at each other, asking questions for which neither of them had the answers. She nodded, finally, as if they had come to some momentous decision, and tugged gently on the length of his rigidly pulsating shaft, urging him to bring the burgeoning glans of his cock into lewd contact with her gleaming red hps. D'Agostinelli willingly complied, wondering if his eyes could be playing tricks on him. Did she know what she was in for?
His cock tapped bulbously against her chin as if it were asking to be let in, and her lips fell open in response. Holding still with an enormous effort, D'Agostinelli watched with stunned disbelief as she lifted her head from the pillow and slowly sucked his rigid cock into the warm moist sanctuary of her mouth. There was a murmur of pleasure deep in her throat as he pushed his stiffened penis between the tightly rounded ovals of her lips, plunging toward the back of her mouth. Domenica responded, timidly at first, then lashing her tongue delicately back and forth across the broad meaty surface of his cock-head and nearly driving him mad with rampant desire in the process. The girl's mouth was soft as melted butter and she clamped her lips tightly around the driving shaft of his cock to form an incredibly tight seal.
D'Agostinelli sensed that she had never done this willingly to a man before, and that she was trying to prove something to herself by doing it to him. His intellect told him that the victory was already his, that he should withdraw from her cruelly stretched throat now and fuck her the normal way, but his instinct urged him to let matters take their course. She was sucking him like a madwoman now, sucking to make him cum, deliberately coaxing him to pour his burning sperm into the depths of her yearning throat.
His hands wound their way into her long black hair, seizing her head with a vise-like grip as her hips began to flex back and forth. She gagged and then caught her breath as he plunged even deeper, the pulsating glans tickling her tonsils, but Domenica was far too lust-stricken by this point to care what he did to her, so long as she could hold his invading cock in her mouth. She cradled his sperm filled testicles with both hands while the policeman fucked in and out of her mouth with all the savagely carnal energy in his powerful body.
Down deep between her legs, Lorenzo could feel the fire growing, and he sensed the Domenica would soon have the reward for her labors. The pressure was building up to an intolerable level like a steam engine about to blow itself to bits ...
Suddenly, it happened, so powerfully that it caught both of them off-guard. There was a searingly hot sensation deep in his balls, and then the white hot cum bubbled out of his cock like a geyser, spraying wildly into the back of her throat. Domenica groaned with obscene delight, gulping spasmodically as she swallowed his spewing semen, half-crazed with lewd exultation as the man's wildly ejaculating cock exploded within her jerking throat. For a moment, his cum flowed into her so copiously that she despaired of keeping up with it, and her Adam's apple bobbed frantically as she gulped the thick syrupy liquid down into the willing depths of her body.
D'Agostinelli's body shivered involuntarily as his orgasm slowly died, and the policeman felt a little guilty for having taken everything for himself and given nothing to her in return. But he need not have worried. As he started to pull his now-deflated cock from her cum-smeared hps, the girl held him back, wrapping her arms tightly around his buttocks, and clinging desperately to him as she thrust her face even more deeply into his hair-covered loins. He rested on his elbows, feeling the tiny nuggets of her nipples digging fiercely into his thighs while she continued to suck avidly on his wilted cock, rubbing her legs together in an obvious frenzy of sexual desire.
After his tumultous orgasm, he had thought that he would never feel the need to make love again, but as the lust-inflamed girl licked and nibbled passionately at his flaccid cock, the policeman felt the blood begin to burn once more within his virile loins. Slowly but surely his cock rose again to its original firmness and length. Only when his cock was once more rock-hard did she let the rejuvenated instrument slip from between her exhausted lips, a thin streamer of sticky white cum dangling between the scarlet head of his cock and her trembling chin.
Domenica's eyes opened suddenly and for a long time the two of them just looked at each other, neither one completely able to believe that all of this was really happening. The girl's hips continued to gyrate madly as she silently begged him for what she needed, but D'Agostinelli held still, waiting to hear her pronounce the final words.
"Take me," she informed him, her voice deep and husky with lust.
At far as the policeman was concerned, she had passed all of her tests with flying colors, and he moved quickly to add the final touches. Sliding down between her eagerly opened legs, he found her cunt was already wet and moistly palpitating with desperate anticipation. Holding his thickly throbbing cock between his fingers, he deftly divided the black patch of pubic hair, inching the bloated glans into her welcoming moistness. Once he was sure of his aim, he flexed his hips forward, and skewered her vagina with one long smooth stroke which carried him all the way home.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!" the dark-haired girl cried out in lust-filled joy, feeling her pussy flowering open with total desire as the man's jolting penis pierced her cunt to the cervix. Shamelessly, Domenica wrapped her long elegant legs around
Lorenzo's back, using the muscles in her sleek young thighs to pull him even closer. She was sailing clear out of her mind now, her over-stimulated body jerking and convulsing beneath him as he stabbed into her ecstatically churning cunt with one powerful thrust after another. It was as if she had never before been rucked and she had waited a lifetime for this single passion-provoking moment!
"Oh harder," she heard herself begging, but her sense of modesty had been long since shattered into nothingness, and some primitive instinct told her that now she was free to let herself go completely. With this man, she could do and say what she wanted! "Fuck me hard! Oh Lorenzo, fuck me with all your might!"
D'Agostinelli, too, had been waiting a long time for this moment, and he hammered his cock into her with the fury of a man gone berserk, slapping his loins furiously against hers as he drove his long turgid cock again and again up into the wetly clasping embrace of her clinging vagina. An overwhelming sense of victory gave him strength; he had not only conquered a woman's heart and soul, he had rescued her from the snares of a godless, subversive organization. They had sent Domenica to him as a spy, but they would never get her back, and Chairman Mao's loss would be his lifelong gain!
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Domenica was chanting now as he pushed her inexorably towards the summit of her ecstasy, too close to her climax to be capable of rational speech. Lorenzo could feel the softly clasping walls of her cunt screwing around his drilling cock-shaft as she soared toward the height of ultimate sexual arousal. She was groaning and crying now like nothing he had ever seen before, and the police captain had to struggle to hold her lust-stricken body on the bed as she jerked and convulsed, matching him thrust for thrust.
D'Agostinelli raised himself on his elbows as she climaxed, knowing that it was going to be a sight worth seeing. She cried out incoherently as the orgasm swept over her with the force of a tidal wave crashing over an island in the Pacific, and for an instant her body went totally rigid, every nerve ending in her system exploding into a blazing fire of pure animalistic release which seemed destined never to end.
"I'm cumm-m-m-m-m-ming!" she managed to groan, her voice high and almost frightened as slie locked her heels around his back and squeezed with every ounce of strength in her jpody. As she orgasmed, the girl's wildly convulsing cunt clamped down on the man's long rigid penis, applying more pressure than he would have dreamed possible. His last orgasm had only been a few minutes before, but the ungovernable desire for the ultimate human pleasure was contagious, and before he could control his emotions, he felt the boiling begin deep in his loins. Once more his cock spat fire, and he drenched her womb with cum, his balls aching with relief as he poured his life-seed into the spasming depths of her wildly flailing body.
For a long time, neither one of them spoke, as if they were afraid that whatever spell they had fallen under would be destroyed if a word were uttered. Worried that his weight was tiring her. D'Agostinelli rolled off and the two of them lay side by side looking at each other. Then suddenly, the girl moved, pulling a blanket over her head as if she were suddenly ashamed and ducking down so that her lips could touch his wilted glistening organ.
"There's something I have to tell you," she said softly touching the tip of her tongue to his flaccid cock. "It isn't easy to explain ..."
"I know," he began understanding^. "I know the whole story."
"About Arrazzo? And the others?" her voice, muffled by the blanket, was quivering as she spoke.
"Yes."
"Then you know who I am?"
"That's right. It's Arrazzo who never understood who or what you were." he told her, running his fingers through her sumptuous black hair as she pressed her lips wetly against his trembling penis.
"What do I have to do?" Her voice was a whisper.
"You have to go back one last time, get your things, and bring them here. You're going to live with me."
There was another long pause in their conversation, and D'Agostinelli felt her manipulating his cock with her hands. It grew slightly, even though he had already cum twice, and she slipped the slowly erecting shaft back between her lips.
"Did you . .. like what I did to you with my mouth?" Her words were muffled by the presence of his now-resurrected penis in her throat. The policeman grunted an affirmative, wondering if he could possibly make love again so soon.
"I want it there ever day," she vowed as she began to suck his slowly burgeoning penis.
Chapter Nine
Somehow Domenica felt that everyone in the apartment would be able to tell that everything had changed radically for her just by looking at her face, but there was too much noise and commotion at the Maoist party headquarters for anyone to pay much special attention to a frightened-looking Sardinian girl in a riding outfit.
"Arrazzo wants to see you," Aldo leered at her evilly as she entered the living room, and instantly the girl sensed that something terrible had happened. If Aldo was happy, it meant that there was violence in the air. "You'd better get into normal slacks before we go, unless you want to fight the Cops in that outfit."
None of this made any sense to her, and Domenica hurried into the party leader's office, her heart in her mouth. Where were they supposed to be going? What was this talk about fighting the police? She soon found out.
"Oh, it's you!" The Maoist was flushed with anger, his ugly face gleaming with hatred. I don't suppose you've found out anything from your strong but silent policeman friend, have you? Like how he arranged to have my two best men killed?"
Domenica's face went white with horror. Who had been killed? Lorenzo had been with her all afternoon! How could he have had anything to do with it?
"Ah shit, I can see sending you out on a job like that was a waste of time. Well, you can forget about the little spying act, because we're in trouble. There's a traitor on the executive council - that's for sure now and Pigroni and Rossi are both dead. This means war!"
"Pigroni and Rossi . . . killed?"
"Their bodies were found in the park a few hours ago. Your boyfriend must have jumped the two of them with one of his fascist bully squads. They never had a chance."
"He ... he was with me all afternoon," she murmured, horribly confused and not knowing what to say. Lorenzo did not operate like that and she knew it. But she could hardly begin defending the honor of her lover in Arrazzo's presence or he would know that she had undergone a radical change of heart toward the party. "But.. . but how can you be sure?" she pleaded, suddenly aware that everyone around her was making active preparations for some sort of a fight.
"Who else would have done it? I told you, D'Agostinelli's got an agent planted right in the middle of us. He must have known all along we were trying to rub him out! What do you think Pigroni and Rossi were doing there in the park? But he got there first, probably with a gang of cops! Well, it's war now! We've put the word out to the students, changing the story, of course, and they're mobilizing for a riot like this city has never seen before. Change those clothes! We're leaving right now!"
"But. . . shouldn't I wait here?" she asked desperately, knowing all too well what a brutal horror a full-fledged riot could be, and wanting to warn Lorenzo before things went too far. "I could get the first aid things ready ..."
"You don't understand! This place could be raided any moment now, and D'Agostinelli must know all about you! Your only safety is with us! When the demonstration is over, we'll all be going underground for awhile. You'll be going with Aldo to a country hide-out until we can sort out who the traitor was and get reorganized!"
"Captain, the lid's blown off," announced the lieutenant tersely the moment the door to the office was closed behind them. "Somebody found two dead Maoists in the park, and Arrazzo's got the university kids convinced it was a political assassination and that we planned it. There's a mob forming downtown right now and it's heading this way."
"Any indications of the size yet?" wondered D'Agostinelli, suddenly feeling the tiredness in his body. He had fought too many battles today already, and he was not looking forward to another one.
"It's too early to tell, but the first reports talked about fifteen thousand demonstrators. They're marching on headquarters and its out of our hands now. The cabinet just met, and the prime minister is calling in the army to stop them."
The police official stared out the window of his room to the street below, watching the first vans of riot police swinging into position in front of the building with tear gas launchers and plastic shields. In a riot this size, there were going to be fatalities on both sides and hundreds of injured. A lot of good-natured innocent soldiers were going to be knocked down by rocks, and a lot of smart but politically-naive kids were going to have their heads cracked open by nightsticks. Nothing could be done to stop it now, and the fact that no one but Martucci would ever know that he was responsible for the two deaths did not change things much.
Blood was going to flow.
"What could I have done, Lieutenant?" he snapped, angrily, half hoping that his subordinate would settle the matter for him one way or another.
"Exactly what you did do, boss," replied Martucci succinctly. "This is the second time they've tried to kill you, and they would have kept trying until they succeeded. If nothing else good comes out of this business, at least let's clean up the Arrazzo bunch and put them permanently out of business."
"No more killing!"
"Not even Arrazzo?"
"Well. . . could we make a charge against him stick, if we arrested him?"
"Not a chance, sir. All we've got is an informer's word against his, and plenty of useless circumstantial evidence. We could hold him for questioning, but they'd eventually laugh us out of court. There's only one way to get rid of him, and that's permanently."
D'Agostinelli stared out the window, thinking of Domenica and what Arrazzo would do to her if he found out she had betrayed him. The thought was not a pretty one. Could either one of them ever rest easily and enjoy their lives together while that Maoist fanatic still walked the back streets of Rome?
"Lieutenant, I.. .I can't stand here and order a man killed!" he finally exploded in an agony of indecision. "I'm a policeman, not some Mafia thug!"
"Yes, sir, but street fighting is a dangerous business. Maybe an accident will happen?"
"An accident?"
"Yes sir, an accident. Today I think Arrazzo's headed for an accident."
The two men looked at each other hard for a moment, knowing that they were putting themselves, at least for a moment, above and beyond the law they had sworn to defend.
But on the other hand, in violent times like these, accidents did happen.
Like ants swarming out of a damaged hive, the students poured by the thousands out of the university, overturning police cars and smashing storefront windows. The few policemen they did meet took to their heels and fled, except for a few stubborn types who stood their ground and were beaten to a bloody pulp for their irrational courage.
Domenica was swept along by the crowd, wondering how she could ever have been a part of this mania for mindless violence. The students around her were not bad people. They went to class and listened to teachers tell them how society was not the way it should be. Then people like Arrazzo got ahold of them outside of class and told them that a savage revolution was the only answer. Today, two men had been found dead in a park. Domenica knew that they were cold-blooded murderers who got pretty much what they had coming to them, but to the students, Pigroni and Rossi were martyrs to a sacred cause. She shivered as she remembered how the two Maoist fanatics had ravished her sexually, and it troubled her in some secret part of her soul to know that two men to whom she had shamelessly given her body only days before were now lying stiff and silent in the morgue.
"Get moving, little girl," came Aldo's brutal voice from behind her. The big Sicilian strongman was staying close, never letting her out of his sight for an instant. "There they are!"
Domenica followed his pointing finger, looking toward the city square where the police line had been set up to await "the inevitable assault of the students. The girl searched with her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of Lorenzo among the police officials who were assembled behind the lines, waiting to direct the dangerous operation of quelling this huge student riot. She found him as the angry mob swept closer, making out his face as he stood talking with the chief of police.
The riot began gradually. The front line of the student mob, thirty or forty feet in front of Domenica, collided with the police line and stopped. Those in back had considerably more courage than the group who were eye ball to eye ball with the police, and there were a few moments of confusion as Arrazzo and his lieu tenants tried to urge the group onward. Domenica noticed that the Maoist party leader himself kept well away from the nearest policeman, moving back and forth behind the students, shouting orders and encouragement.
"Let 'em have it!" he was screaming. "They murdered our friends!"
Then, suddenly, all around her, students began tearing up the street, yanking paving stones out of the road and flinging them at the small army of police who were blocking the way to the police headquarters. Within seconds, the air was filled with rocks as thousands of students caught onto the idea, and Domenica strained her eyes, desperately worried that Lorenzo would be hurt. For a wild moment, all she could see was frantic activity behind the police lines as the officer prepared to fire tear gas. Then there was a barrage, a long series of hollow popping sounds as tear gas grenade launchers sent dozens of cannisters exploding into the air over the students' heads. Many of Arrazzo's team had gas masks, and others were equipped with dampened clothes to shield their mouths and noses, but Domenica felt her eyes begin to water instantly, and a thousand students suddenly took to their heels to escape the nauseating gas.
Still anxious about Lorenzo, she climbed up on the side of an overturned car and tried to locate him in the churning mass of humanity. Domenica finally saw him, looking anxiously in her direction, and she was trying to decide whether he had spotted her or not when the students let fly with another barrage of paving stones. D'Agostinelli had turned his back for an instant, and never saw the jagged piece of stone which caught him on the back of his head. He went down hard, blood streaming from a large gash at the base of his skull.
"Hey, I got the motherfucker!" screamed a man's voice somewhere in the crowd.
"Oh Christ, Lorenzo!" the girl groaned, leaping clear of the wrecked car and fighting her way through the struggling mob of students. "Lorenzo!!!" She was out of her mind with panic, sure that she would find him dead on the pavement, and no longer scared of what anyone thought of her.
Aldo caught her as she approached the police line, pulling her back roughly as a stout cop prepared to knock her head off with his nightstick.
"No, no, let me go!" she pleaded as the big Sicilian dragged her back. "I've got to go to him! He's my lover!"
"Oh, is he now?" snarled the muscle man. "So it's been you! Wait till I tell Arrazzo that his little Sardinian pigeon has been singing songs to the police!!"
Hoisting her bodily into the air, Aldo carried the struggling young woman out of the fray as the students parted to let them pass, assuming that she had been hurt by the police and was being carried away to safety. The tear gas was getting thick now, since the police had fired several salvo's into the crowd, and the girl could hardly breath as Aldo threw her into the jump seat of Arrazzo's yellow sports car, and sped her away from the scene of the riot. For awhile she gagged from the effects of the tear gas, and then settled into a steady rhythm of sobbing as Aldo expertly wheeled the fast car across the city, heading for the Maoist headquarters. The Sicilian said nothing, concentrating on his driving, and within minutes they reached the university district where the party leader's apartment was located.
"I've been waiting far too long for you, my little friend!" he growled at her as he dragged the exhausted woman from the front seat of the car. "And I think maybe you've outlived your usefulness!"
Domenica could not find the strength in her body to resist as he pulled her up stairs, opened the door, and threw her brutally down onto the floor. Lorenzo was probably dead, and she would probably soon join him in lifeless oblivion. They thought she was the traitor and it was an easy mistake to make. In a way, she was a traitor, even though she had never told Lorenzo anything about the party and its organization.
"I'm going to give you a little lesson in party discipline," snarled the red-haired Sicilian as he bent over the weeping woman, his hands already moving to unfasten the belt on her slacks. "So you fell in love with the handsome captain, and set up your comrades to be killed, eh?"
"No .. . no, please," she groaned, knowing it was useless. "I never told him anything! Yes, I was in love with him, but he never asked me to ... I didn't even know ..."
Aldo interrupted her pleas for mercy with a solidly brutal slap which sent her rolling across the floor, her hands thrown up over her head in total surrender. There was no more fight in the girl, and the big man knew that his moment had arrived at last. Scraping the delicate skin of her thighs with his un-trimmed fingernails, he ripped her slacks down to her ankles, and turned her supple unresisting body over onto her stomach.
"You're going to get it in the ass, baby," he taunted her. "Arrazzo fucked you in the mouth, and you turned on! The boys fucked just about every place else, and you couldn't get enough of it! Now we're going to see how much of a swinger you really are!"
"No . . . please ..." she groaned instinctively, even though his words had not yet really registered in her shattered mind.
"Turn around, baby, and take a good look at what I'm going to stuff you with! Like it? Ever see a bigger one?"
Domenica's eyes widened with abject shock as she twisted her neck and looked back at the loathsome object Aldo was holding proudly between his fingers. It was indescribably large, and for a second she decided hopefully that this was all a vile obscene joke. That enormous rod could not be part of a man's body! It had to be made of rubber or plastic!
Then she saw it throbbing with life, pulsating with animal lust, and she knew she was lost. It meant death, since no woman alive could take that battering ram into her body and live to tell about it! She turned her head away, wondering how a life which had begun as happily as hers could possibly end so badly.
Aldo grinned with evil satisfaction as he saw the girl's body go rigid with panic. He had been looking forward to fucking this Sardinian bitch for a long time now, and the fact that he had been forbidden to touch her for so long was only going to make it harder on her. With a rough twist, he forced the shimmering half-moons of her buttocks apart until he could see the tiny brown circle of her anus, tightly contracted with terror. Overwhelmed with degenerate delight, he dug at puckered with his index fingers, quickly pushing his way up into her clenching rectum to the first knuckle.
"Oooooohhhhhhh," groaned the girl, knowing that the mild discomfort she was experiencing now was only the beginning of the horror to come. She moaned again, louder this time, as he methodically screwed a second finger in beside the first, rotating his hand roughly to increase the size of her resisting little anus.
"Oh ... you're killing me, Aldo!" she pleaded with him, but the Sicilian giant merely chuckled with perverted pleasure and began cruelly stretching the rubbery walls of her anus, preparing the way for his lewd assault on her virginal rectum. Then there was a wet sucking noise as he pulled his two fingers free and guided the bulbous glans of his cock to the artificially-widened aperture. His eyes gleamed with depraved carnal joy as he felt the frail muscles of her rectum resist and saw her buttocks contracting in a desperate, last-ditch effort to repel his invading cock-shaft.
And then he pushed forward!
"Aaaaaagggggghhlihhhh!!!" her scream seemed to hang in the air as if it had a physical presence of its own, echoing and reverberating against the walls, but it was music to Aldo's ears. With a grunt, he threw the weight of his enormous body forward again, and inch by inch his pulverizing cock ground its way inexorably up into her hopelessly violated rectum. The girl was wiggling and squirming like a bug on a pin, but each frantic movement only served to impale her more completely.
With a final heart-rending flick of his loins, he pierced her to the hilt, driving his rock-hard cock as far as it would go into the tortured tunnel of her anus.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned softly, since the searing pain was too intense to allow her to scream at the top of her lungs. Domenica felt as though a flaming hot sword had abruptly been thrust up into her rectal passage, searing and burning its way into her very stomach, and for a few minutes, she was incapable even of moaning.
"Like it, little traitor?" he mocked her cruelly. "Think you can cum like this? If you get to like it, we can do it twice a day, with a few blow-jobs thrown in for good measure. I guess I can make you forget about our friendly captain."
"No, please, leave me alone," she begged, but his only answer as another savage shove as he began to force his distended penis in and out of her brutally-violated anus.
The pain was still bad, but her body was beginning to adapt itself to the presence of his mammoth rod stuck into her rectum, and within a moment or two, Domenica's mind began to clear a little, just enough to start thinking about survival. It was clear that anal intercourse was never going to be her favorite indoor sport, but it was also obvious that it was not going to kill her either. The only thing now was to get it over with.
Her mind worked carefully. The big Sicilian had watched her being subjected to all sorts of cruel sexual indignities, and every time she had ended up by becoming wildly excited and having an orgasm. What if she pretended that this ugly sodomy was having the same effect upon her? He had to fall for it! This time she had to make him lose control!
Aldo grunted with unexpected pleasure as Domenica's rectal muscles suddenly began to clasp around his surging tool, trapping his reaming penis in a moist embrace as soft as butter.
"Ah, that's good!" he grunted, feeling her loosen up enough to allow him to fuck freely in and out of her ravished rectum. He could hardly believe that she had warmed up to the idea so quickly, but unless his eyes were deceiving him, Domenica was going into one of her wildly aroused moods. The silky inner flesh of her anus rippled over the broad surface of his lust-bloated glans, and the big man gasped with unexpected carnal delight.
"Come on, fuck me!" she told him suddenly, her voice hoarse and apparently lusty. Aldo responded, quickening his strokes, and fucking into her yielding supple young body, half out of his -mind with perverted enjoyment. This voluptuous dark-haired girl liked being fucked in the ass! She was up on her knees now, undulating her ass-cheeks in lewd invitation, panting with every mind-shattering strokes of his pistoning penis, and the man congratulated himself on the find of the century.
Domenica bit the inside of her lip, hating herself for the way she was behaving but knowing that it had to be done. If the party really believed she was a traitor to the Maoist cause, they were certainly planning to execute her. Her only hope for survival lay with Aldo. If he decided what he was getting from her was too good to give up, he would save her life, hide her somewhere from Arrazzo, and somehow she would escape from him. And if Lorenzo was still alive, then . . . there was just a chance she might someday be happy.
Aldo was hitting his stride now, groaning like a great ape each time he surged obscenely up into her widly gyrating anus. The sight of this proud Sardinian' beauty crouched half-naked before him fired his already uncontrollable lust, and he knew that this sort of intense pleasure was too intense to last for long. But there was no point in drawing it out longer than it was meant to last. Now that he-had conquered this particular little prize, he could fuck her whenever he felt like it, morning, noon, and night!
"Oh, fuck me, baby," she urged him, knowing the obscene words had to be said. She could feel that he was almost there, and she strained with all the strength left in her battered, abused body, bearing down on his iron-hard cock in a desperate attempt to provoke him into shooting his hot sticky cum into the unnatural sanctuary of her impaled anus.
And then suddenly it happened!
Inside her body, as waves of searing hot cum stormed out, Aldo's enormous testicles spasmed their seething contents into the moistly clasping repository deep into Domenica's frenziedly milking anus.
"Oh cum, cum, cum,"1 she groaned as he pumped his wildly ejaculating rod into her, spurting forth stream after stream of his wildly rushing semen into the contracting rectal passage. Her knees slid out from under her and she collapsed onto the rug, the horrible enormity of what she had done starting to sweep over her. Aldo stabbed forward with one final mighty lunge, and then lay still, his swaying balls empty, his savage Sicilian soul contented at last.
The two of them lay there for a long time, panting quietly.
There were footsteps on the stairs.
The door opened.
Aldo looked up, and saw Lieutenant Giuseppe Martucci staring down at him, a gun in his hand. Silently, the police man motioned him to rise, and grinning, the giant did as he was told, pulling his deflated cock from Domenica's battered anus. What difference did it make? The cops had nothing on him! His wilted penis dangled before him, still dripping white drops of semen onto Domenica's bare shoulders.
"Guess what? I'm going to do you a favor," said the lieutenant coldly. His face was set, hardened, and suddenly Aldo felt afraid.
"A favor?"
"The Captain has kind of a nasty temper, and this is his woman." Marticcu explained, cocking the pistol. "I'm going to kill you now, before he gets his hands on you."
Aldo scratched his head, as if he were trying to make some sense out of this nonsense, and Marticci shot him in the face, making a hole the size of a nine calibre bullet about an inch over Aldo's right eye. The Sicilian was still looking puzzled when he fell over dead.
Martucci was uncommunicative in the patrol car as he drove Domenica to the hospital where Lorenzo D'Agostinelli was recovering from a minor concussion.
Yes, the captain was going to be all right.
No, he would say nothing about what he had seen Aldo doing to her.
Yes, Arrazzo had suffered an accident during the riot. A police truck had been backing up and had inadvertently run over him. It was regrettable, but then riots are dangerous for all concerned.
No, not all of the Maoists had been eliminated, but with Arrazzo, Aldo, Pigroni and Rossi all dead, the back of the organization was broken for the time being.
"He thought I was a traitor," she explained, uncomfortable in the presence of this silent police official, but feeling the need to justify herself. "There was a traitor on the executive council and Aldo thought it was me! That's why he was . . . punishing me."
Martucci wheeled the squad car into the courtyard of the hospital, and turned off the key.
"Aldo knew you weren't the traitor," he muttered shortly, his fingers on the door handle.
"How . . . how could he have known?" she whispered, almost afraid of the answer.
"Because it was him. Some men will do anything for money."
"I guess it doesn't matter now."
"I guess it doesn't Miss. The Captain is waiting."
