At two o'clock on Sunday morning, while the last of the late night revelers were wending their way back to hotels or the London suburbs, the shirt-sleeved denizens of Fleet Street were still hard at work. Outside the gaunt, many-storied offices, bright fluorescent lighting shone down on the pavement, giving the narrow thoroughfare an appearance of unnatural daylight, while The Street itself glistened with a thin, drizzling March rain.
On the editorial floors of the Sunday Reporter, Britain's largest-selling tabloid, sub-editors and journalists put hurried finishing touches to last-minute news stories; while downstairs, in the sweaty, oily atmosphere of the machine rooms, the big printing presses had already begun to roll off the first editions of the bulky, scandal-exposing newspaper. It had been a typical Saturday night and Sunday morning so far as the editorial staff were concerned. The pattern of news had been much the same as at any other weekend: routine, unsensational coverage of the political scene; a couple of sex-murder trials - given undue prominence in the centre of the newspaper, complete with all the lurid details which most of the other papers had preserved from their readers; the second installment of a film starlet's life story - ghost-written, of course, and containing so-called "shocking" revelations about the movie industry which didn't quite live up to the expectations aroused by the publicity built around the series ...
Together with an expose or two of "unhealthy social problems" (teenage drug addicts, back-parlor abortionists and so on), this comprised the normal, weekly diet of reading material for the Reporter's nine million readership. No one expected a big story to break at this hour of the morning. The night staff would remain on duty, just in case a world shattering event took place before the final editions had to go to press, but this was a rare occurrence.
Gerald Stafford decided that it was reasonably safe for him to leave the office.
As Editor-in-Chief, he was ultimately responsible for every policy decision, every news story - every word that was printed in the Sunday Reporter. Stafford owned the controlling interest in the newspaper. And he also maintained total, on-the-spot power over its contents by acting as its full-time Editor - preferring this close involvement with his journal rather than the background authority of other newspaper magnates. On each Saturday, the day before publication, Stafford put in a full fourteen hours' work: usually lingering at the office until 4:a.m. when the final edition was "put to bed". On this particular morning, however, he felt a desire even more pressing than his obsessional interest in the Reporter ... And if an important news story should break in his absence, Douglas Warren - Stafford's trusted, reliable Night News Editor -could easily reach him and obtain his ruling on how the facts should be angled and presented to their readers. Shrugging his large, well-muscled shoulders into a thick black overcoat, Stafford called across the paper-strewn desk to his chief underling:
"Doug - I'm going to call it a night. See that the paper is put safely to bed, won't you? I'll be at the private number if anything happens before the last edition goes to press".
He gave the man a broad wink, buttoned up his overcoat and strode out of the office. Warren listened to the sound of his superior's footsteps echoing down the corridor towards the elevators; and then he shook his head ruefully but with a certain admiring affection. Gerald Stafford really had it made, he thought. He was one of the most powerful men in Fleet Street, controlling single-handedly a newspaper which - for all its critics - was feared and held in grudging respect by politicians, show business personalities and important industries alike. Reaching a weekly audience of fantastic size, the Reporter could make or break reputations, champion causes, or expose alleged corruption in high or low places with little danger of libel suits. Its resources were so great that it would require an incredible run of bad luck (a whole succession of multi-thousand pound libel actions) to cause even a small dent in Stafford's bank balance. And the more risky exposures which were published had naturally been well-vetted by lawyers. Furthermore, since these attacks were written in the form of smears, innuendos and subtlety veiled suggestions of malpractice, the newspaper was practically invulnerable to this form of revenge on the part of its victims ...
Gerald Stafford's success - and the methods he had used in his ruthless climb to the top - were etched in every line of his well-fed face. You could almost read the man's history in them, Warren thought: they told of a struggle for position and power that had begun in the slums of Glasgow and, after years of cheating, fighting and manipulation, had ended in the boardroom of the Sunday Reporter. Stafford himself was proud of his humble origins. He lost no opportunity to recount anecdotes of his early life; and he had never lost the brusque, domineering Scots accent of his childhood environment. At the age of 42, he still retained the marks and scars of a deprived, brutalized boyhood; and although the more recent years of good living had filled out his body, giving him a comfortable paunch and a fleshy, well-padded physique, Stafford's long training in gutter manners and street fighting showed plainly through the thin veneer of middle-class respectability whenever he felt himself to be threatened by an adversary.
He was a big man. Big in power, big in stature. His beetle-eyebrows and florid complexion testified to a quick temper and a diet that was too rich for a stomach that for many years had been accustomed to plain food -hurriedly eaten and insufficiently digested. But, in company with Stafford's other sycophantic employees, Douglas Warren envied the newspaper magnate for his stamina and his success. It required a very tough brand of determination, will-power and sheer obstinacy in the face of tremendous odds to carve out a career for oneself in the jungle of Fleet Street. You could count the number of self-made men on the fingers of one hand - but the failures, the ones who had dropped out of the rat-race, where inestimable.
One of the many rewards which success brought, one of the status symbols so to speak, was a mistress. Stafford was now going home to his current girl-friend - a fact which was no secret to the Night News Editor. Warren knew all about the cozy little apartment in Islington which Stafford leased for his mistress, though this extra-marital liaison had been skillfully concealed from the public and the other members of the Reporter's staff. It was also extremely doubtful that Stafford's neglected wife, Natalie, was aware of her husband's regular infidelity. And Warren felt rather proud that he was considered trustworthy enough to be granted access to this corner of Stafford's private life. He also relished the irony of the situation: that Stafford, crusading with hypocritical passion through the editorial columns of his newspaper against fornication, adultery and loose morals, saw no reason why his own sexual desires should be repressed ...
Warren turned back to his work, smiling. He was too hardened, too cynical to feel indignation at the man's double standards. After all, the tabloid pages of the Reporter itself were a blatant example of this self-same hypocrisy: photographs of semi-nude or lingerie-clad young girls juxtaposed with vehement if irrational attacks on "the mad state of our permissive society". No, there was only a grudging, envious respect in Douglas Warren's attitude towards his employer.
This respect, however, wasn't shared by certain groups - one of whom, at this very moment, was preparing to disrupt Stafford's peaceful life with a wholly unsuspected and far-reaching attack upon him ...
He unlocked the door and stepped quietly into the hallway, switching on the light as the door clicked softly shut behind him. Discreetly, Gerald Stafford moved towards the bedroom where a narrow strip of lighting shone from beneath the closed door; treading carefully and walking like a silent, predatory animal, his bulky figure surprisingly noiseless. He held his breath while one hand gently turned the doorknob, and then he entered the room in a sudden rush - as if he hoped to surprise its occupant in a compromising position.
But the girl who was sitting at the dressing table mirror, brushing her long, burnished hair with a rapturous expression on her face, merely glanced up at his reflection and smiled. She continued to pass the nylon brush through the shimmering tresses of her hair, tossing her head and staring confidently at the beautiful image in the glass. Stafford relaxed. He felt a curious sense of relief, as if he had half-expected Marilyn to be in the arms of another man during his absence ...
"I waited up for you, darling", the girl said in a soft, sweetly modulated voice. "I had a feeling that you might be dropping in to see me tonight".
Stafford came closer. He moved behind her, his hands dropping onto the girl's bare shoulders. His large fingers pressed tightly into the flesh, making the delicate bones ripple slightly - drawing her shoulders back so that the supple globes of her bosom thrust outwards beneath the restraining cups of her half-bra. Stafford looked down into the deep cleavage between the girl's breasts. His eyes were hungry, a hot light shining in them, the pupils dilating to large black circles as he feasted them on the smooth white skin. She slowly replaced the hairbrush on the glass-topped dressing table, leaning backwards on the stool and resting her head against Stafford's ample belly. There was a sexy rustling at her thighs as she uncrossed her stockinged legs and the harsh whisper of nylon against nylon: Marilyn gently rubbing her thighs together in the provocative way that Stafford loved ...
The girl, a supremely self-assured young 22-year-old, looked far too glamorous and attractive for a man like Gerald Stafford. She seemed poised and sophisticated, a ripely beautiful creature who had nevertheless chosen to be a powerful newspaperman's plaything - with its attendant showering of gifts, clothes and rent-free accommodation - rather than use her talents in other directions. Marilyn Turner wasn't lacking in ambition, however. She intended to use her liaison with Stafford as a stepping-stone to more profitable and influential affairs. Through her association with the Fleet Street magnate, the girl hoped to meet some of the politicians, movie stars and big businessmen who came into regular contact with Stafford; and although their affair was only entering its second week, she felt confident that, given sufficient time, she could inveigle introductions from Stafford to the people who might make her life even more comfortable and luxurious.
She allowed her hands to rest casually on the white tops of her thighs, between the black elastic straps of her suspenders and the tightly hugging nylon which was drawn up so tautly around her full, slightly parted legs. Knowing that Stafford's eyes had now moved further down her body, Marilyn teased at the portion of skin that was exposed on her thighs - caressing softly along the warm smoothness and passing her fingertips backwards and forwards across the hot vee of her crotch until she could hear the man's breath becoming fast and labored behind her.
Urgently, Stafford's hands moved down from her shoulders and gripped the large globes of her breasts. He squeezed them tightly, his thumbs pressing into the naked swellings which jutted out from the cut-away brassiere, his fingers lifting the shiny black silk to that the twin half-cups became raised and Marilyn's tits assumed an upright posture that caused her nipples to pop rudely, redly into view. Stafford played with her breasts, his open mouth a few inches from the girl's shoulder and his breath coming like a desert breeze on her flesh. In a few moments he had succeeded in wriggling the flimsy little bra downwards and completely uncovering Marilyn's bosom. The now-empty cups hung in a forlorn, sagging state below the ample breasts - the still-fastened harness stretching around the girl's chest and the shoulder straps cutting deeply into her exposed titties. Panting, his fingers trembling, Stafford eased the straps away. They fell in a slow movement down Marilyn's arms, trailing limply at her elbows until she disengaged them and quietly reached behind her back to unclasp the final hook. The brassiere dropped away from her body but the girl kept both her hand behind her. She skillfully unbuttoned Stafford's jacket, then felt for his belt buckle ...
Stafford appeared hypnotized by the soft orbs which he was massaging. The texture of the pure white flesh, the pliability of the luscious breasts - the way his fingers could make them move and undulate at random - seemed to demand all his attention. He didn't shift his eyes or his hands from them, even when Marilyn drew his cock out and began to fondle its hard, thick length with a caress that quickly made the shaft twitch and vibrate in tingling excitement. She had opened his fly and worked the prick through Stafford's underpants, making it rear up boldly and nakedly, the swollen and red-veined penis sticking lustily into the air while the girl petted it temptingly and encouraged it to throb to its heart's content against her fingers.
The surface of Marilyn's breasts was now pink and rosy from Stafford's mauling. So far, his fingers hadn't touched the nipples; they were still relatively unawakened the crimson aureoles encircling two little nipples that were only just beginning to stiffen with pleasure. But now, as his fingers brushed across the teats, they rose with instant obedience to the thrills which he had aroused in their nerve-ends: perking up into a juicy erection, unflowering under his nervous caress and ripening eagerly under the rough stimulation.
He began, half-unconsciously, to work his hips backwards and forwards as Marilyn -her hands twisted behind her - frigged his weapon with a more penetrating action of her fingers. The girl had now seized the cock tightly with one hand at its hilt, using the digits of her free hand to rub and titillate the foreskin rapidly up and down Stafford's horny meat - stretching it elastically to the prepuce and rosy glans and then drawing it vigorously back again.
Stafford's body was quivering with desire by this time, his legs weak and a vein throbbing rapidly at his temple. He could see through red-rimmed eyes that Marilyn's thin black panties were becoming plastered more tightly to her crotch - as the girl stretched them against her loins by the urgent straining of her thighs. She moaned helplessly as he dug his fingers sharply into her naked breasts, rolling her head from side to side when Stafford ruthlessly tormented her nipples by squeezing them and releasing them in a quick, deliberately cruel pinching between his thumbs and forefingers.
Neither of them could stand this frustrating position for long. With a groan that was like the snarl of a famished jungle beast, Stafford abruptly fitted his big hands under Marilyn's armpits and lifted the girl bodily off the dressing stool. He turned her around to face him, their faces flushed with excitement, and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Her lips yielded at once, parting moistly to the urgent pressure of his tongue, and Stafford darted it swiftly between her teeth and into the wet, liquid sweetness - tasting the warm juices which trickled onto his tongue and crushing the girl against him in an embrace that squashed their bodies together in a bear-hug of desire.
The crown of Stafford's prick pulsed hotly on Marilyn's bare belly, its length beating like a thick lump of molten steel against the front of her panties. Running swiftly down her naked back, his hands paused briefly at the slim, dimpled flesh of the girl's waist before they came to rest squarely on the scantily covered buttocks. He moaned again, feeling the incredible shapeliness, the utter sexiness of Marilyn's beautiful arse cheeks moving and responding to every wayward pressure of his fingers. The panties were only a sheer, transparent film between his hands and the flesh. They didn't prevent him from enjoying to the full the exquisite sensations of molding and fondling the lovely orbs and Stafford was in no particular hurry to remove them. He toyed with them in the same way that his hands had caressed her breasts: beginning with a wandering, exploring touch and then delving his fingers deeply into the yielding mounds; jostling them and pinching them until Marilyn licking her own tongue rapidly in and out of his mouth - thrusting the pink, wet muscle forward in combat with his own tongue - and straining her body urgently into him. She opened her thighs so that the nude cock could press more sexily against the softness of her loins, and her hands busied themselves by pulling Stafford's shirt out of his trousers and loosening his belt until the pants slid slowly down the man's legs.
The initial force of his lust had calmed slightly, and Stafford was able to draw back from the girl and quickly strip off the remainder of his clothes. Completely naked, he slid one hand under her thighs and the other around her shoulders. Marilyn was picked up as if she was a doll and carried to the bed: her warm body trembling as she lay limply in Stafford's arms and prepared herself to receive the full brunt of his desire ...
But before Stafford lowered her onto the waiting sheets, he paused at the bedside and gazed down at the beauty which rested so lightly in his big hands. The girl's breasts were slightly flattened by her attitude, the plump swellings separated and the nipples pointing outwards as he cradled her like a baby in his arms. Her legs were drawn up, and the position of Marilyn's thighs caused her cunt-lips to be squashed tightly together - forming a thick, soft-fleshed little pouch between her closed limbs.
Stafford narrowed his eyes. Still holding the girl, he slipped his fingers higher up her thighs until they were just touching the plump folds of her sex: resting on the clearly outlined bulge and feeling the faint but discernible throbbing of the lips as they quivered moistly against the restraint of the tight panties. For a few moments. Stafford fingered the sexy protuberance and probed up and down the centre of the fat flesh - sharp needle jabs of pleasure shooting through him as he made the lobes give way for a second or two and reveal to his exploring finger the deep cleft which lay between them. Then, like a man who had delayed his feast by lingering over the hors d'ouve, Stafford set to work on Marilyn's infuriating charms with a vengeance ...
Lowering her roughly onto the bed, he allowed his full weight to press down on the girl; urgently covering her body and limbs, bringing his paunch heavily against her soft belly and feeling the hard metal studs of her suspender belt pressing into his thighs. Marilyn gasped for breath. She felt crushed by the overpowering closeness of the man, her flesh quivering with protest as Stafford settled himself more comfortably and proceeded to jam both his legs between hers - spreadeagling her limbs until Marilyn's thighs were stretched widely apart.
Grabbing the girl's wrists, he forced her arms into a similar attitude: opening them so that her arms and legs were forming a star-shape. Greedily, Stafford worked his lips on Marilyn's mouth. He bruised the soft, moist opening with his teeth, biting at the fleshy lobes until he had wrung a cry of pain from the girl. Then, as if this muffled sob had satisfied a sadistic streak in him, Stafford became suddenly gentle ... releasing Marilyn's wrists and easing the pressure of his body by taking some of his weight on his elbows. For a moment they lay quietly together, kissing and allowing their bodies to pulse in erotic but unhurried proximity - the hush before the storm ...
Slowly, Marilyn's right hand stole down to her hip. She unfastened the tiny mother-of-pearl button which kept her panties in place, and the briefs suddenly sprang open! Pulling quickly, the girl slid them out from beneath her body; raising her haunches for a second while the black silk was tugged away and discarded. Instantly, Gerald Stafford pressed his cock forward into the now bared bush of her sex. It searched the hairy cluster to find the warm, giving slit of the cunt - its swollen pink nose burrowing anxiously up and down Marilyn's quim-cleft until it finally found the well-hidden little wound and plunged deeply through the crimson flesh to fill her up in one long, penetrating fuck.
The prick, having bored to the limit of its eight inches, now throbbed wildly inside the girl's cunt. It remained embedded in her, neither withdrawing nor fucking, while Stafford returned his hands to those gorgeous dumplings of her arse and fastened his fingers securely into their spacious, smooth cushions of flesh. He kept the girl waiting until he had maneuvered one of his fingers right into the heart of her anus: rudely separating the lovely cheeks with one hand and skewering his forefinger around and around, driving it all the way, letting the hot shit walls close tightly around the digit.
Marilyn, still wearing her suspender belt and black silk stockings, received both instruments with willing pleasure. She arched her spine and encouraged Stafford to fuck his finger and his cock into her as vigorously as he chose; returning the thrusts which he had now begun to give her with an equal fervor, twisting her hips to make the reaming of her arse and the fucking of her cunt as pleasurable as possible for the man.
Against his legs, Stafford could feel the electric rasp of the girl's stockings - a sensation which he loved dearly. Now that he had safely dipped one finger into Marilyn's anus, he released the girl's bottom and brought his free hand to her outstretched left thigh. Holding his breath at the exquisite beauty which was now held so firmly beneath his palm, Stafford started to massage across the place where her stocking ended and her bare flesh began: delighting in the sharp contrast of silk and skin, feeling the sleek limb over and over again - increasing the motion of his prick to a furious speed as he fondled at the upper portion of the girl's leg.
Smiling to herself, Marilyn put her other leg over Stafford's buttocks. The fat cheeks were thrusting violently up and down by this time, but she managed to plant her foot firmly on the arse-crease and press her silk-stockinged sole into his deep bottom-divide. She felt him shiver with excitement. He was panting hoarsely into her mouth, scarcely able to move his tongue against hers. The hot, open gash of Marilyn's quim had aroused Stafford to a terrible, raging lust - and as he felt the girl's foot rubbing persistently over his arse, the newspaper magnate fucked his cock in long, churning strokes; riding it thickly through the sticky flesh of her cunt and back again, while his finger tickled furiously inside the tighter slot of her bumhole.
All around his knob, the juicy meat quivered and grew increasingly wetter. Stafford could feel the deep, regular contractions as Marilyn brought the inner muscles to work on his cock - clenching and unclenching them to make the tube of her sex "milk" and suck at the ramrod which was driving so fiercely in and out of it. Her action had the required effect on the man. He ran his hand feverishly over the small area of her thigh which excited him so intensely; snapping at the suspender studs and digging his fingers into the white flesh until it became scratched and bruised with red welts.
Stafford's prick had taken on a fresh vigor. It rammed back and forth, filling and re-filling Marilyn's cunt with its hard, lustful meat until the moment of climax came. He humped his body mercilessly up and down, again punishing her with the full weight of his physique, his fat belly grinding into Marilyn's flat tummy and his cock wetly penetrating the sleek vessel of her sex.
Any sound that Marilyn made was smothered by the pressure of Stafford's mouth. He kept their tongues tightly together, gasping out his passion between greedy, sucking licks - feeling his cock writhing in the grasp of the girl's womb like a snake caught around its middle and about to spit venom wildly into the eye of its tormentor. Faster and faster he spurred his mount ... The suction of her quim was tremendous. Stafford had never before realized how cleverly Marilyn could use her pussy, how she could make it squeeze so smugly and hotly around his prick ...
Shuddering, he shot his spunk into the girl. It came in a long, single-spurting ejaculation; one fierce gusher of sperm that rained its thick bubbles like hailstones into the waiting hole of her cunt - spattering the red flesh with its hot cream and sending a fierce warmth flooding through her loins.
Drained and exhausted, Gerald Stafford collapsed on her body; his legs still twitching between her thighs as the final spasmes of his orgasm ran achingly through his over-stressed muscles. It was several minutes before he thought of the girl. Then, reluctantly, he eased his weight and withdrew his prick, letting it slide slowly away from Marilyn's dripping slit and falling back onto the bed to lie beside her ... his face flushed and his eyes already closing in sleep.
The bedside telephone jangled into life. Irritably, Stafford blinked to a semi-wakeful awareness and watched Marilyn stretch out her arm and take the call.
"It's for you". She passed the white receiver to him and remained with her head propped up on one elbow while Stafford growled his name into the mouthpiece.
"Douglas Warren here". The Night News Editor's voice was excited and nervous. It brought Stafford rapidly out of his comatose state and into sharp alertness Something was obviously happening in Fleet Street. Some vitally important news story had clearly broken during his absence, because Warren wasn't the kind of man who became breathless and stimulated over a mere trifle. Stafford glanced at his watch. The luminous dial showed him that it was 3.36 in the morning. Just enough time to hold the final edition of the paper ...
"It's - it's your wife!" Warren told him. He spoke so rapidly that the words ran together, making no sense at first. Gradually, Stafford understood the gist of the message. He broke into the man's incoherent, staccato voice with an angry though ice-cold rebuke.
"For Christ's sake, calm down! You say it's Natalie? She's been kidnapped?"
"Your housekeeper just telephoned the office - she spoke to me before she called the police because she thought she could reach you at the office, there were four of them, apparently. Three men and a girl. They overpowered the old woman and bundled Natalie into a car -".
"Tell them to stop the presses!" Stafford ordered calmly. "Wipe out the front page lead story. Do it now!"
There was a delay of perhaps thirty seconds. Stafford could hear Warren using the inter-office telephone, speaking urgently to the printing room manager. Then:
"It's being done. But what are we going to -".
"We splash all the information we can on the first three columns", Stafford told him crisply. "There's a picture of Natalie in the files. Get a block made seven by three inches. And hold the edition until the last possible moment. Meanwhile, call Mary again. Get all the details you can about the kidnappers - their appearance, what they said to her, anything! Understand?"
"Got it!" Warren rang of quickly and Stafford held the dead receiver for a moment, his eyes shining with a light that only appears on a newspaperman's face when he knows that he has an exclusive scoop on an important story. Already, his mind was framing and discarding possible headlines for the kidnapping ...
Marilyn studied him quietly. If there was contempt in her feelings she didn't reveal it.
"You know something?" she said at last. Stafford turned impatiently to look at the girl, annoyed that his train of thought had been interrupted. "You didn't even bother to ask if your wife had been hurt!"
"Warren will find out", he snapped. "An experienced man like Douglas doesn't have to be told every little detail of his job ... "
His voice trailed away as he realized what Marilyn's remark implied. She knew that he didn't give a damn about Natalie's welfare. It was the story that mattered. And Stafford's news-sense would have out-weighed all other considerations even if he still felt a measure of affection for his wife.
Slowly, his face broke into a smile. Then he chucked Marilyn affectionately under the chin and replaced the telephone receiver. They sat up in bed smoking cigarettes while they waited for Douglas Warren to call back ...
CHAPTER TWO
She was cold and frightened. During the long, dark drive - huddled in the back seat of the car with only a light dressing gown over her negligee - Natalie Stafford had been too terrified to feel anything but blind panic. Now, as she was marched up a flight of stone stairs - a hard-fingered hand gripping tightly to both her arms - the girl's initial alarm became diluted to a milder fear and the direction of her senses to the discovery that her body was nearly frozen with the night chill. Her feet slipped as she tried to find the position of the steps through the handicap of her blindfold. And the helpless, whimpering moans which Natalie had been making since they first broke into her bedroom and hauled her unceremoniously out of bed turned into cries of anger.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded. "I won't move another step until you -".
A hand pushed violently into the small of her back. Natalie choked with pain and stumbled forward unwillingly, blindly climbing the rest of the stairs and entering a warmer, slightly musty-smelling hallway.
"There's no need to push her around. She's already scared half out of her mind!"
The voice was softer, more considerate than any of the others Natalie had heard. Hopefully, she clutched at the thought which suggested that this was merely a student "rag" - a practical joke. These people weren't going to harm her, they would release her after they had had a little fun ...
Her hopes were dashed directly they removed the blindfold.
Blinking against the sudden brightness, Natalie focused her eyes upon four deadly serious, watchful faces that certainly didn't belong to the student movement. They had the expression of fanatics - each one of them staring at her with a dangerously single-minded expression: as if she was a prize that had been captured at great risk and couldn't be permitted out of their sight for a moment.
Shivering, Natalie turned her eyes away from them and looked around at her new environment. The hall was shabby, an unshaded light bulb dangling from the ceiling and swinging unevenly in a draught from the half-closed front door. For a wild moment, Natalie thought of rushing to it and screaming at the top of her voice. She tensed herself, ready to move, and then:
"Please don't try to make a scene!" The man who had first spoken to her in that gentle voice stepped between Natalie and possible freedom. He took her arm, more softly than the hands which had propelled her up the flight of stairs, and steered the girl to her right - into a room that was warmer and less dingy than the hall, but which smelled of stale tobacco smoke and a general lack of ventilation. Through an open door, Natalie could see into a larger bedroom and the steady drip-drip of a tap told her that the bathroom was situated behind a second, closed, door that had chipped and crumbling paintwork.
"This house is completely isolated - shouting for help or even trying to escape won't really be effective. And I'm afraid that such an attempt might make my companions feel rather nervous - they're liable to lose their tempers if that happens!"
"What - what do you want with me?" Nathalie heard her own voice as if it belonged to a stranger. The words came out so quietly, so devoid of the hysteria which had again seized her mind.
"Please sit down". Leaving the others outside in the hall, the young man - who was evidently their leader -closed the door and motioned Natalie to an old, worn armchair that stood beside the walled-up fireplace. She lowered herself gingerly into its olive-green depths, wincing as the springs creaked in protest and the aroma of dust came up to fill her nostrils.
"I'm sorry about the state of the place", he apologized. "In the morning you can help Suzanne to clean and tidy the rooms. There wasn't time, unfortunately, to prepare the house for you".
Natalie drew her dressing robe more tightly around the front of her body. Somehow, despite the obvious danger of her situation, the young man exerted a comforting, even reassuring influence. He offered her a cigarette, and when Natalie shook her head he screwed one of the filter-tips into a black holder before lighting it.
"I won't keep you in suspense", he smiled. "This isn't an ordinary kidnapping, Mrs. Stafford. We aren't holding you to ransom for money, even though your husband could well afford to pay several thousand pounds for your safe return. No ... " He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette holder and his pale, intelligent features grew serious again. "The reason why we are holding you is quite unique, I believe. Briefly, we are going to demand that Gerald Stafford publishes an apology in his muckraking rag of a newspaper - an apology for printing sensational trash all these years and a promise that the whole tenor of the Reporter will be more responsible and less hypocritical in future!"-
Natalie could feel her mouth open in total, stunned surprise. His ultimatum was so ridiculous, so impossible to take seriously, that she felt sure he was joking after all; that this was a hoax. But the young man gave no sign to encourage this belief. He stood calmly in front of her, a tall and slim figure, his blond hair combed down so that it lay flat and straight on his head. He was wearing a well-worn dark blazer and fawn slacks that had traces of dirt on them; yet he stood apart from his clothes, the intense magnetism of his personality transcending the poor quality of his dress.
"I don't thing we shall enjoy your company for too long, Mrs. Stafford. Your husband will meet our terms very quickly, I feel sure. And the knowledge that millions of impressionable minds will no longer be corrupted by his evil newspaper is surely sufficient compensation for any minor discomfort you may suffer".
He ejected his cigarette into an ashtray that was overflowing with half-smoked butts. Natalie watched him with eyes that were no longer afraid but strangely fascinated. She realized that he was unbalanced, that his scheme was utterly misguided and possibly insane, but at the same time it appealed to her half-buried romanticism: looking up into his clear blue eyes, she saw in his unflinching, confident stare the expression of faith that the world could be made a better place in which to live - and she felt an irrational stab of pity for the young man, knowing that - whatever happened in this particular case - his revolutionary spirit was doomed to failure ...
"Since I don't regard this as a criminal action, and since I'm perfectly prepared to defend what I've done in any court, I don't mind telling you our names", he told Natalie. "As I told you before, we don't want any harm to befall you; and there's no reason why we can't be friends during your stay with us." He extended his hand. "My name is Robert Jennings. The girl outside is Suzanne Belmondo - and my other friends are George and Marius: I'm sure they won't mind introducing themselves to you while I'm away ... "
Natalie felt a partial return of her fear. With this man, she didn't doubt that she would come to no harm. He was reassuring; a relatively dependable rock in this sudden nightmare. But the others ... She remembered the roughness of their hands on her, the remark Robert had made about their "feeling rather nervous and liable to lose their tempers ... " And Natalie was suddenly scared, some instinct warning her that the rest of the kidnappers wouldn't treat her as considerately as the young man who had organized the venture.
"Where - where are you going?" she asked him nervously. "You're not going to leave me here with them for long, are you?"
"Just for the remainder of the night", he replied. "Suzanne will take care of you. You can share the bedroom and in the morning I'll try to work out an arrangement that will give you more privacy".
As she watched him light the two gas fires, Natalie realized that the kidnapping had been planned and executed in a very short space of time. It was a hurried, ill-organized scheme; with little attention paid to details. Her old terror returned in waves of panic that made her feel weak. Supposing Gerald refused to capitulate to their demands? What would Robert - and the others - do then? Nathalie bit her lip and instinctively huddled herself into the dusty cushions of the armchair. This wasn't a game. These people were serious, and if by some chance their plans should be thwarted ...
"It will soon be nice and warm in here", Robert told her cheerfully. He walked to the door and summoned Suzanne, then, as the petite brunette entered the room, Robert gave Natalie a brief wave and was gone.
The two girls studied each other coolly. Natalie could see that Suzanne, although somewhat younger than herself, was tougher and more hardened to life. She had dark brown hair and a watchful, suspicious expression in her gray eyes: like a cat that constantly feared its saucer of milk was about to be snatched away from it. Her body, though small and partly concealed in a loose-fitting trouser suit, seemed almost as slim as a young boy's - the breasts scarcely prominent at all under a charcoal jacket and a plain white blouse. Natalie felt more feminine in her presence, as if the faintly mannish appearance of the other girl enhanced her own female qualities.
"You're a bit young to be married to that old bastard, aren't you?" Suzanne observed. She came forward into the room and crossed to the unmade bed. While speaking, she straightened the sheets and blankets and took two reasonably clean pillows out of a chest of drawers. Nathalie understood that she was to share this single bed with Suzanne tonight, the two men using the second, larger bedroom. "How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?"
"I'm 26". Nathalie crossed her legs primly, feeling a rare loyalty towards her much older husband at the girl's slighting remark. "And I'll thank you to speak more politely about Mr. Stafford. He -".
Suzanne chuckled. She tucked in the sheets and turned round, unbuttoning her jacket.
"He's a pig!" she interrupted cheerfully. "I don't share Robert's mania for reforming his newspaper, but that hypocritical bastard deserves all he gets for using girls so horribly!"
"What do you mean?" Natalie pricked up her ears, wondering curiously if new rumors had started to circulate about Gerald's private life. Several of their friends had intimated to her recently that her husband had found a mistress. Natalie discounted the gossip as being strictly without foundation. But she couldn't help betraying her interest in the meaning behind Suzanne's vehemently spoken accusation ...
"Those pictures he prints!" the girl answered angrily. "Don't you see how degrading they are? How they reduce these beautiful women to mere objects - something for men to pant after like a pack of hungry vultures!"
There was so much hatred in Suzanne's voice that Natalie realized at once that the girl was neurotically opposed to the pin-up photographs which Gerald used in the Reporter. But why? She received the answer almost at once. Suzanne had already removed her jacket, and she now unzipped the front of her trousers and calmly stepped out of them. Natalie had to suppress a giggle which bubbled up in her throat at the sight of the girl's underwear. Instead of the customary panties or briefs, Suzanne's hips and crotch were covered in a pair of men's Y-fronts -complete with fly-opening!
There was no longer any bewilderment in Natalie's mind. Suzanne was most decidedly a lesbian!
Deftly, the girl unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it on top of her other clothes at the foot of the bed. She wore no brassiere. Her extremely small breasts didn't require the support or uplift of a foundation garment; although her nipples were unusually large and seemed to be in a permanent state of erection. They stood out on the little mounds of flesh like two over-ripe cherries, and Natalie felt her eyes drawn to them - realizing with a blush, as Suzanne suddenly rubbed her fingers across the teats, that she had been staring at the girl's nipples for several long moments ...
The awkward silence between them was broken by the sound of the second bedroom door closing sharply. Natalie heard a key turn in the lock, and then Suzanne crossed to their door - the one which opened out into the hall -and locked it; returning to the door where the two men were presumably preparing for bed and sliding the key under the narrow opening into their room.
"There!" she exclaimed, straightening up. "Now we're safe and sound! Neither of us can leave this room until the morning."
Suzanne climbed into the bed and switched off the light by tugging at a length of cord which was connected to the socket. "Come on!" she urged Natalie. "There's plenty of room if you don't mind cuddling up ... "
Only the faint blue haze from the two gas fires now lit the room. Natalie slipped off her robe. She knew only too well that the girl who had assisted in her kidnapping was going to make sexual advances to her, and yet she had already decided - in a sudden flash of intuition as Suzanne had watched her staring at those big, juicy nipples - that she wasn't going to resist. It was vitally important, Natalie saw, that she kept at least one member of the gang on her side. Nobody could predict with any certainty how this strange adventure might end, and if Suzanne wanted to make love to her - well, she had no scruples about yielding her body to another girl. As a matter of fact, it was Natalie's growing frigidity towards Stafford that had been primarily responsible for her husband taking a mistress. His brutish, obscene slavering had repelled the girl from the very beginning of their association; and although Natalie had managed to hide her true feelings for the sake of their marriage, it was impossible for her - after the second year of their married life - to disguise the revulsion she felt for his crude and disgusting sex-play. She still didn't suspect that Stafford was finding an outlet for his lust with another girl, but Natalie's own desire was becoming increasingly aroused by more gentle, even effeminate young men ... So far she hadn't succumbed to the temptation which urged her to take a lover. She hadn't dared to take the risk, knowing that if her husband discovered the affair all her previous work in surrendering to him and pretending to enjoy his lewd fondlings would have been in vain: Stafford wouldn't hesitate to divorce her and his lawyers would ensure that she was left without a penny in the decree settlement.
"You're taking this pretty calmly", Suzanne whispered to her in the darkness, as Natalie slipped between the sheets and felt the ancient bed springs creak beneath their combined weight. "Another girl would probably be in hysterics after a thing like this had happened to her. You're a cool customer, aren't you?"
Natalie made no reply. She lay on her back, the bed covers drawn up tightly around her neck, acutely aware that she was practically naked with only her thin nylon negligee covering her body. Against her right arm and leg she could feel Suzanne's warmth; the girl turning on her side so that her small breasts were pressing into Natalie's ribs and her belly rested provocatively on the hostage's right hip. The room was still half-illuminated by the blue glow of the gas fires, and Suzanne studied Natalie in profile - letting her eyes wander over the ruffled but well-cared-for blonde hair, the fine boned and slightly upturned nose; fastening her gaze finally, and greedily, upon the perfectly shaped lips that were full and moist. their red flesh parted, shining with a promise of sweet, thrillingly wet kisses ...
Gently and slowly, Suzanne stretched out her arm and placed her hand on Natalie's waist. The girl made no movement, her body scarcely trembled at the contact. Encouraged, Suzanne began to stroke up and down; her fingers growing bolder as they received no interference, moving over the sheer silk of the negligee until they were caressing the large, warm swelling of Natalie's left breast. She cupped her palm and pressed it downwards into the soft, pliable flesh. Her lips were dry now, and Suzanne ran her tongue over them - feeling a tremor of excitement in her body as she realized that the girl wasn't going to repel her advances. She put her moistened mouth against Natalie's ear.
"We can be very good friends, darling", she murmured. "I'll take special care of you, my pet: I'll see that you don't come to any harm while you're staying with us ... "
Suzanne moulded Natalie's breast beneath her fingers She began to squeeze, lightly at first, and then with increasing pressure as her hand continued to find no resistance. The bed clothes became disarranged; the sheet and blanket sliding back over Natalie's neck and chest, exposing the firm flesh of her cleavage and the pretty, beribboned frills of her negligee top. Carefully, Suzanne massaged the beautiful orb of the girl's breast until it was eased out of the loose silk cups. The milky-white globe, crowned by a nipple that had already started to perk stiffly, came free of the negligee - supported by Suzanne's hand so that it rose in a thrilling upwards position: intensifying the deep crease of the cleavage and making the fondling girl exclaim with admiration.
"It's beautiful! Oh, darling, I don't think I've ever touched such a wonderful titty!"
Suzanne rolled over on top of Natalie. She kept her hand on the now-naked breast, inching herself down until her face came into line with the trembling, softly wobbling globe. She parted her fingers, splaying them open and allowing hands and mouth.
Soon, both of Natalie's teats were glowing a bright red, their round, raised stalks glistening with saliva from Suzanne's busy lips. And the girl had begun to raise her loins in response to the excited movement of Suzanne's belly - which was pressing and writhing on her thinly-covered pubis, the soft flesh quickly arousing Natalie to a languorous, sexy mood that made her pliable to any demands made upon her ...
Sensing her conquest, Suzanne left Natalie's nipples in the safe keeping of her fingers. She twiddled with them, agitating the teats around and around, while the front of her body slid further downwards. Natalie caught her breath as she felt Suzanne's mouth burying itself in her crotch. She could feel the warmth of the other girl's lips through her negligee, and then - shuddering with pleasure - she tugged the silk garment upwards with her own hands. It was snatched quickly away from her loins in one eager movement, and directly the hem slipped over her belly, Suzanne fastened her lips savagely on the bare lips of her cunt!
Natalie groaned as a fulfilling pleasure coursed through her sex. She spread her thighs to assist the girl's exploration, feeling her legs quivering uncontrollably as Suzanne applied her mouth to the wet, pulsing slit and kissed it with a fierce, hungry desire.
"Oh!" she sobbed. "Oh, my pussy! You're making it feel so strange - so hot and tickly!"
Suzanne pushed the tip of her tongue into the red crevice. She licked slowly and tormentingly along the juicy cleft until she found the throbbing pearl of Natalie's clitoris - stiff and inflamed, its pink gristle poking through the outer lips of the girl's sex as if it was begging for attention. Suzanne dabbed at the moist, sexy bud, licking all over it, making the clitty brush against her lips and then rub excitingly along the front of her teeth. Her fingers continued their incessant fondling of Natalie's breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipples and roving into the deep, cushiony flesh which surrounded them. It was several ecstatic minutes before she ventured her tongue completely inside Natalie's cunt. The juices had lubricated the girl's slit so much that it was like dipping her tongue into a warm, narrow treacle pot. Suzanne finally thrust the muscle as far as it could stretch and penetrated the hole so that her tongue could begin to frig in and out of the slot. Her nose rested firmly on the girl's pubis, the nostrils inhaling that pungent, fishy odor which Suzanne loved so much, and her lips planted themselves in a luscious kiss on the thicker, more intimate lobes of Natalie's quim: the breath of her mouth joining the sex-fumes which were wafting so hotly from the cunt which she was now licking with all her might ...
Eventually, panting and hot-eyed, Suzanne raised her face from the steaming, well-sucked gash. She wriggled her body upwards until she was again lying with her figure squarely atop Natalie's, and then pressed her juice-stained lips to the girl's mouth.
"Taste it, my precious!" she coaxed. "Taste your own lovely spunk, ray beautiful girl!"
Natalie closed her eyes in sheer bliss. She allowed Suzanne to push her pussy-licking tongue into her mouth and ream it against her lips and around the back of her teeth. There was a perverse, piquant delight in savoring the fruit of her own sex; especially when Suzanne was being so erotic with her tongue. The girl was giving her all of the tenderness, all the soft, gentle skills which she had never received from her husband. Natalie folded her arms passionately around the boyish Suzanne, entwining their bodies and thrusting her nude loins upwards to meet the vigorous, surging grinding of the other girl's crotch. She fondled down Suzanne's bare back until her fingers came to the waistband of her masculine pants. At first, Natalie caressed the girl's bottom through the Y-fronts; then, as her lust became more inflamed, she forced one hand into the briefs and ran her palm possessively over the naked cheeks: pulling them apart and sliding her fingers into the hot, fleshy divide. All at once, it was Natalie who had assumed the active role in their love-play. She was filled with a warm desire to fondle Suzanne's cunt - to compare its softness and its wetness with that of her own sex - and she insinuated the more experienced lesbian over onto her side; passing her free hand swiftly between Suzanne's thighs and covering the sexy vee of the girl's crotch with her searching fingers.
Suzanne was only too willing to let Natalie explore her pussy. Kissing more passionately and persuasively at the captive's lips, she opened her legs as widely as possible and invited the girl to examine her. Natalie murmured appreciatively into Suzanne's mouth as she slipped her fingers into the slit of the Y-fronts and felt the moist, musky bush. It grew in a luxuriant triangle of hair, making the vertical gash of the girl's cunt rather difficult to find. Natalie smoothed the close-growing strands carefully. She made a path for her finger through the tangled bush, sighing happily as the raw, tender skin became exposed to her gently probing digit. Taking her time, exchanging wet. panting kisses with her partner, Natalie's finger roamed into the deep, lubricated entrance of Suzanne's cunt. She shivered with delight as she felt her slim member thrusting steadily upwards, widening the juicy slit and passing higher and higher up the humid slot; testing the soft, moist flesh and finally wedging to its limit.
Natalie scarcely realized that Suzanne had returned her own hand to the wet gash between her thighs and was now inserting two of her fingers into the restlessly grinding cunt. She had become too intent upon her own frigging, working her forefinger spastically in and out of the girl's pussy, until the tight pressure of Suzanne's supple, experienced fondling made her feel that a floodgate had suddenly been released inside her sex. Helpless to stop the flow, Natalie could only jerk her hips in an agony of ecstatic torment while the funnel of her quim spurted out a stream of milky-fat onto Suzanne's fingers and hand.
The intense emotion of her climax overwhelmed the girl. She threshed madly in Suzanne's embrace, digging her own finger with reckless abandon up and down the throbbing wound until her lover sobbed in mingled pain and pleasure.
All at once, Suzanne broke away from Natalie. Alarmed, the girl clutched desperately at the lesbian - feeling an intense frustration as those beautifully satisfying fingers jerked out of her cunt. There was a brief wriggling, a wild scrambling beneath the bed clothes, and then - to her immense relief - Natalie felt Suzanne's mouth burning on her quim! She raised her buttocks, driving her shuddering crotch urgently against the girl's lips, squealing with gurgling delight as Suzanne sucked so fiercely on her spunking, bruised little quim that the pink layers of flesh just inside the slit seemed to be drawn away from her body.
And now, as if to complete her pleasure and bring her senses to the height of bliss, Suzanne's thighs were being opened face-down across her face! Natalie quickly brought her mouth against the hot vee of the Y-fronts. Adjusting them with trembling fingers, she tugged them sufficiently far down to enable the slit in the pants to come into alignment with Suzanne's quim. The two forefingers plucked the opening as wide as it would stretch, allowing the entire area of the girl's furry snatch to be exposed.
Natalie snuggled her nose and mouth into this smelly, naked wound. She held onto Suzanne's thighs and returned the avid sucking which the lesbian was giving to her own sex: feeling a new kind of thrill as she kept the male briefs open with her lips and feasted on the generous slit that was squashed so urgently against her mouth.
The girls lost every shred of inhibition as they indulged in their lewd love-play. Nothing was too dirty, too extreme or too intimate for their hungry tongues and fingers to attempt. Natalie's inflamed pussy was examined critically by the tip of Suzanne's tongue; the deep, fleshy recess and the moist outer area where the pubic hairs had been so thoroughly lubricated by spunk that they yielded an abundant dew when Suzanne sucked at them. Their kisses roamed over every inch of the cunts, until there wasn't a single portion of slimy sex that hadn't been treated to a loving, lingering petting ...
Natalie lost count of the times she reached an orgasm. Her body had never responded so violently, so wholeheartedly to this kind of caressing; and for the first time in her life, the girl gave herself up to the intensity of a lesbian connexion - all her previous, schoolgirl experiments unworthy of comparison with this joyous, unrestrained union ...
A tremor of Suzanne's thighs that began quietly but grew uncontrollably to a crescendo of passion, warned Natalie that she must expect an especially lavish tribute from her partner. She pursed her lips and thrust them as far as possible into the palpitating slit of the girl's cunt, then opened her mouth; at the same time pushing her tongue inwards as far as she could stretch it. Directly she had done this, Natalie felt an explosion of hot liquid gush down from Suzanne's womb. It poured in a quick stream into her waiting gullet, while the frenzy of her new lover's thighs became terrifyingly abandoned.
Natalie had to hold grimly to the girl's legs in order to keep her lips in place. She twisted her face from side to side, gulping back the sex-milk and making moaning, panting sounds at the back of her throat as the mucous choked down her - while her own quim was repaying Suzanne with an even stronger spurting of pussy-fat ...
When they eventually relaxed and their strange desire had, for the time being, exhausted itself, Natalie and Suzanne lay under the bed covers in a deep-breathing, huddling embrace; the strong, lobster odor of their lust filling their nostrils and providing a lingering reminder of the intimacy they had shared. Natalie drifted slowly into a heated, dream-filled sleep; a deep reverie which was so real to her that she believed, for a few hours, that the kidnapping hadn't taken place; that she was still lying in her own bed, hungering for adventure and wishing that her life with Gerald wasn't so humdrum and routine.
CHAPTER THREE
Robert Jennings sat in the front seat of the Green Line coach with a satisfied smile on his lips. His return trip to London had been exceedingly worthwhile, and he congratulated himself on the efficiency of his plan; nodding with private pleasure as his eyes caught the placards outside newsagents' shops. The 'bus was traveling through the outer London suburbs towards Hertfordshire, moving quickly past the still-sleeping urban houses and entering the Green Belt of Greater London: where the built-up streets gave way to wider stretches of open space and green fields. But at every village, as the 'bus slowed down to maneuver the winding, narrow little streets, Jennings spotted with immense satisfaction the same legend on the newsagents' billboards:
KIDNAPPING! EDITOR'S WIFE SNATCHED
FROM BEDROOM -
EXCLUSIVE TO 'SUNDAY REPORTER'
As he had suspected, Gerald Stafford didn't hesitate to splash the story of his wife's abduction all over his scandal rag. An event like this sold newspapers, and that was all Stafford cared about. However, by this time he would have received the ultimatum which Jennings had written out and pushed through the letterbox of the Reporter's office. The bastard was probably fuming right at this moment, Jennings thought cheerfully. Wondering how to treat the 'ransom' note; wondering if the police would be able to trace his wife's whereabouts before he was forced to choose between the reputation of his newspaper and the safety and freedom of his young and attractive spouse.
The early morning had been useful and well-spent. He had visited every one of the London newspaper offices - the dailies, the evenings and the Sundays - delivering copies of his blackmail letter to their editors. By now. Stafford no longer had a scoop. Every paper in Fleet Street knew the motive behind Natalie's kidnapping ...
The idea of bringing this kind of pressure to bear on a hated newspaper had first occurred to Jennings several years ago. He had left London University harboring a deep-seated loathing for the gutter journalism which filled fifty per cent of Britain's press. He found it impossible to devote his mind to a career. In fact, nothing brought him any kind of real pleasure except his constant mania for reforming the worst of the English newspapers. He had grown more and more obsessed with this debased means of communication - which, to his increasingly angry mind, seemed to be tightening its stranglehold on the imagination of the masses: corrupting them more insidiously than any other form of twentieth-century propaganda.
None of his University friends seemed to see the newspaper industry as a particular threat to the well-being of the proletariat. One by one. they drifted away from Jennings ... bored or angry at his preoccupation with what they considered to be a minor social problem. There were more important causes than reforming Fleet Street. And while his erstwhile friends became successful businessmen, hippie drop-outs or settled in a cozy, routine suburban life, Robert Jennings found the revolutionary mania to be burning so strongly in his breast that he could turn his mind to nothing; could devote his energies to no other activity while the reforming zeal coursed like fire through his veins.
If he had taken the trouble to visit a psychiatrist. Jennings might have gleaned some insight into the obsession which was frustrating his life. It was true that, at certain lucid moments, he could glimpse something of the true nature of his problem; that it was strongly related to his early history, associated with the ambivalent feelings he had towards his parents - both of whom were typical examples of the working-class people that Jennings believed to have been morally corrupted and emotionally and spiritually stunted by newspapers like the Reporter. He couldn't bring himself to accept that their Puritanism, their hypocrisy - the entire fabric of their narrow minds - might be inevitable. His furious desire to tear down the power of the Sunday Reporter would almost certainly have been interpreted by a psychoanalyst as an unresolved urge to destroy the authority of his mother and father ...
But Robert Jennings could never arrive at such an explanation unaided. And he pursued his quarry - the destruction of the tabloid press - with a fervor that was only matched by the excesses of the most militant and irrational religious crusaders.
Although qualified to work as an architect, he chose to take short-lived jobs as a laborer, a waiter, a steward ... any employment that required little or no mental effort. And he used his brilliant mind to gradually formulate a sweet kind of blackmail plot on the most heinous newspaper owner of them all - Gerald Stafford. Is was a terrible waste of talent - a pathetic mismanagement of a brain that might have contributed to the culture of his society in far more profitable ways. But Jennings was held too tightly in the grip of his obsession to break free from it before it was too late ... And now, finally, he had taken the irrevocable step of putting his fantastic plan into action ...
It had been necessary for him to recruit three other people to carry out the kidnapping and help him with the abduction, the guarding and the eventual return of their chosen victim. This was regrettable but essential. He couldn't hope to attend to every detail alone and unaided, but as he traveled on the upper deck of the coach - now leaving behind the outskirts of grimy London altogether and drawing nearer to the quiet country village near Hertford Town where Natalie was held hostage - Jennings wished that he had managed to find a more reliable trio to act as his assistants.
Suzanne Belmondo was probably the most trustworthy among them: at their first meeting (in a London discotheque where Jennings had gone with the specific purpose of recruiting likely accomplices) he had found what he thought to be a kindred spirit. She also seemed to loathe the furtive sexiness of the Sunday Reporter, and even when Jennings realized that the girl hated it more for its "degradation of the female body" than for its snide exposes and mealy-mouthed fake piety, he had no doubt that Suzanne would prove a dependable ally.
There was, however, one important factor against the girl; one that he would have to watch very closely if it wasn't to ruin his plan. Suzanne was a lesbian! Given the custody of a beautiful girl such as Mrs. Stafford, she might allow her emotions to get the better of her reason and take their captive's side. Nevertheless, Jennings decided to take a chance on her. She had been promised that Natalie Stafford would come to no harm, and he knew that she wasn't lacking girl-friends. It ought to be possible for him to prevent a close liaison developing between Suzanne and Natalie ...
The two male members of his gang had been selected out of desperation rather than choice. Jennings had no links with the underworld. He couldn't, in any case, find any hardened criminals who were willing to work for him for such a small reward; although he had saved religiously for the past three years, Jennings couldn't afford to offer more than a few hundred pounds for their sendees. And this meant that his selection was very limited. Marius Quayle and George Burke had been found at the last moment: a strange pair, but professing themselves to be capable and agreeable to following his orders ...
Jennings stepped off the coach at the crossroads of Wormley Village and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the clean country air. It was 10:a.m. A brisk morning breeze, sharp and invigorating, blew across the open fields and the pale red disc of the spring sun shone from a practically cloudless sky. He turned into one of the lanes which began by winding in a parallel line to the main roads, and then trailed further and further from them into the countryside - eventually leading to the sparsely-populated villages. But his enjoyment of the peaceful rural setting and the pleasant day was marred by the thought of Marius and George. Already, Jennings was beginning to regret that he had taken such men into his confidence. He quickened his pace. The cottage he had rented was only a few hundred yards away now, but he hurried along the pebbled lane, its surface still slightly muddy from the overnight rainfall, as if every second counted. A dreadful premonition that he might be too late to prevent some disaster made his heart thud unpleasantly against his ribs; a stitch in his side giving him a sharp, wincing pain ...
But when Jennings unlocked the front door, he found a peaceful, quiet scene; Suzanne and Natalie sitting on the bed in the first bedroom, talking in whispers that were abruptly cut short when he entered the room.
"Those lazy bastards haven't got up yet!" Suzanne told him, nodding towards the closed door where Marius and George were sleeping. "Still, it gave us a chance to get properly acquainted, didn't it, darling?" She gave Natalie's hand a squeeze and met Jennings' eyes without shame. "I should think her husband would be very anxious to get her back, Robert. She's a very sexy girl!"
Jennings locked the door behind him without a word. He strode to the second bedroom, hammered loudly on it with his first - and when the two men emerged, yawning and stretching, he took up a position facing them all:
"It seems as if I didn't make the point clearly enough before", he told them. His voice was hard and icy. Despite his youth (Natalie guessed that Jennings couldn't be more than 24 years old, while Marius and George were clearly in their late 'twenties), he held them with his authority; dominating the little group and keeping them silent and grudgingly respectful.
"Your job is to guard Mrs. Stafford. I don't want anyone to lay a finger on her - either to hurt her, or to caress her! You all agreed to follow my instructions. Right! Then just remember what I said, especially you, Suzanne ... She's a hostage - and that's all she is!"
Suzanne shrugged her shoulders, but released Natalie's hand and moved a little further away from the girl. She didn't want to upset Jennings. Not yet, anyway. He was too unpredictable, too weird to risk provoking. You couldn't tell how he might react to someone who defied him. And Natalie, although she had proved to be surprisingly adept in bed, wasn't worth fighting over. Suzanne could bide her time. There would be plenty of opportunities to continue her seduction when Jennings was safely out of the way. She knew that the young man wouldn't be able to spend very much time at the cottage; he had to be close to the victim of their plot - spending as much of his time as possible in the saloon bars of Fleet Street where the journalists and reporters gathered, picking up gossip and learning from scraps of overheard conversation what Stafford was planning to do.
And this would give Suzanne all the time she required to pursue her interesting relationship with the enigmatic young girl ...
"This goes for you, too", Jennings was warning Marius and George. "No funny business while I'm away - or there'll be trouble! So far, everything's gone off according to plan. I don't want anything to jeopardize our success now".
Marius Quayle leaned insolently against one wall and studied Jennings coolly. He was a short, slim man of about 30; his dark, untidy hair and his small, pointed black beard giving him a slightly Satanic look - as if he had stepped out of a medieval print that depicted the devil in one of his most cunning and dangerous moods. His lips were thin and pale, his sharp features chalky and drained of blood so that he resembled a thirsty vampire at full moon; seeking a new victim to satisfy his insatiable desire for blood ...
And yet Marius had proved to be a generous friend when Jennings most needed one: offering him not only encouragement and sympathy, but also providing him with the intellectual companionship which the young man had been deprived of for so long. There could be no doubting Marius Ouayle's intelligence. He possessed an enquiring mind of the first caliber - was able to discourse on subjects both esoterically and political; both philosophical and mundane. It had been a chance meeting that brought them together. One of those fateful coincidences, a table shared in a crowded Chelsea coffee bar - an overheard conversation, a prickling up of ears, a discovery that in some respects they were kindred spirits ...
Jennings formed the opinion that Marius was willing to embark on any project that offered him the chance of a new experience. He was a dilettante - a restless searcher after novel kicks: unperturbed by moral scruples or risk as long as the stakes were high enough. And in this case, the kidnapping promised a kind of excitement that required no monetary reward to make it a worth while venture. The idea of a helpless, captive young woman ... entirely at his mercy and cut off from every form of assistance appealed to his cruel nature. Marius had decided to bide his time, however. There was no point in unnecessarily antagonizing Jennings. Like Suzanne, he had a certain amount of respect for the young man who had organized this little adventure, lago-like, Marius Quayle preferred not to make his schemes known; understanding only too well the advantage of deception, stealth and intrigue ...
"You needn't worry about Mrs. Stafford", he told Jennings with a smile. "She isn't my type, even if I did happen to be the kind of man who would force himself on a woman. And George has his new toy to play with ... I can assure you that our hostage won't be manhandled by either of us." He cocked a thumb at Suzanne. "All the same, I think you're wise to be wary about our bitch friend here! George and I heard some rather interesting sounds in the night, didn't we, George? Those bed springs were pretty busy, weren't they, old friend?"
George Burke blushed and stared down at his shoes. He shifted his feet awkwardly, a large and not unhandsome young man, but painfully shy and acutely conscious of his speech impediment: a terrible stammer which caused him to remain silent rather than risk embarrassment.
"Mind your own godamn business!" Suzanne snapped angrily. "You're jealous because the only way you can get a girl is by -".
"Shut up!" Jenning's voice cracked out the order like a whiplash. Sulkily, Suzanne bit back the accusation which was on her lips, glaring at Marius and defiantly taking Natalie's hand again. All through this scene, the young woman had sat silently on the bed; watching these people and listening to their arguments as if she was simply an impartial observer and not the subject of their disagreement. She had dressed in her robe but hadn't had the opportunity to wash yet - and under the scrutiny of their eyes, Natalie became shamefully aware that her face and body urgently needed attention ...
This dilemma was unexpectedly resolved by Robert Jennings.
"You've yielded to temptation, Suzanne - that's obvious! And it seems that I can't trust you alone with Mrs. Stafford any more. I suggest you go down to the village and get her some fresh underwear and new clothes: meanwhile, while she's gone, you can take a bath and soak some of the tension out of your system, Mrs. Stafford. I have to make a few telephone calls ... "
Natalie sighed with pleasure at the thought of relaxing in a tub of hot water. But Jenning's absence from the cottage was disturbing to her, especially since it meant that she would be left alone with the two men, Marius and the moronic-looking George.
"Please!" she said in a pleading voice, half-rising from the bed. "Don't leave me with them! I know I'm not in a position to make demands on you, but -".
"You're perfectly safe", Jennings told her. "They both know that it's in their own interests to see that you don't suffer while you're with us. And I feel a lot happier, knowing that Suzanne isn't scheming with you." Turning to the girl accomplice, who was now bristling with indignation, he said: "It appears that I made two mistakes, Suzanne; one, I should have realized that a lesbian can't be trusted to keep her hands off a pretty girl - and, two, I foolishly believed that Marius and George might be the traitors to our enterprise. After your actions last night I can see that you're the nigger in the woodpile, Suzanne. O.K.! From now on, Mrs. Stafford isn't to be left alone with you for a single minute. And I don't intend to let you out of my sight, either - just in case you're stupid enough to ruin everything and inform the police of our hideout!
"You seem to be treating this as a holiday, as an excuse to start a romantic little affair!" Bitterly, Jennings reproached the girl with his blue, accusing eyes. "If only I'd had the sense to realize that this should have been a one-man operation! Well, it's too late for that now. You're all involved as deeply as I am. And if anything should go wrong - you're all equally guilty in the eye of the law!"
"Nothing will go wrong, Robert", Marius soothed him, a placating, almost wheedling tone in his voice. When he wanted to, the sly and Machiavellian Quayle could lace his words with syrup; making them so charming and apparently guileless that he could deceive practically anyone. Jennings, greatly troubled both by the confusion in his own mind and the threat to his plans which loomed up if his aides became too rebellious, was convinced by the man's innocent, disarming remarks.
"George and I, are professionals. This isn't the first kidnapping we've carried out successfully. I assure you, you have no reason to doubt either our competence or our good sense. I think that your own intelligence will confirm that we can be trusted, that we are aloof from stupid temptations - and that Suzanne is the greatest danger so far as the welfare of Mrs. Stafford and our enterprise is concerned ... "
Jennings had already made up his mind. Above all, he mistrusted lesbians. They belonged to neither sex: psychologically speaking, they were neither man nor woman -and it was impossible to predict whether Suzanne cared more for the pleasures of her perverted sex urge or for the success of their kidnapping. In short, he was faced with the choice of leaving Mrs. Stafford largely in the care of a girl who might help her to escape or with two men who might rape and physically harm their captive. Jennings wasn't a cruel man. But he wanted more than anything in the world to prove that his audacious plan could succeed. And if, through no fault of his own, this entailed hurting their victim ...
Suzanne had opened her mouth to protest against this unfair decision, then changed her mind. She could see from the tight-lipped expression on Jennings' face that it was useless to argue with him at the moment. Like most fanatics, he couldn't be reasoned with once he had made a decision. A small measure of pity passed through Suzanne as she glanced at the helpless Natalie. But the emotion was swiftly brought under control; obviously, the girl had been shielded and sheltered all her life from men like Marius Quayle. It probably wouldn't do her any harm to be fucked against her will. In fact, Suzanne felt a moment of odd, irrational excitement as she realized that - with Jennings and herself safely out of the way - Natalie would be subjected to a very different kind of sexual experience, without the tenderness and consideration which she had received in Suzanne's arms last night ...
Suzanne donned her coat and followed Jennings out of the cottage, leaving Marius to lock the front door from the inside. Without speaking to each other, they walked the two miles to the village - where Suzanne was to buy-clean undies for their prisoner and Jennings was to make his telephone calls.
Already, within a few hours of snatching Mrs. Stafford from the safety of her house, dissension and conflict had begun to split their camp; an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust clouding their motives, like a chess game in which the pieces had rebelled and were no longer concerned with attacking the king but had begun to plot and make moves against one another ...
CHAPTER FOUR
"You'll find some clean towels in the airing cupboard, my dear". Marius told Natalie. "But I expect you'd prefer to soak in the bath until they return with some fresh clothing, wouldn't you?"
He smiled disarmingly, encouraging Natalie to believe that her first impressions were wrong - that he wasn't as unpleasant as she had first thought. All the same, she felt insecure and helpless in his presence - the full danger of her position brought forcibly home to her now that she was confronted by just the two men. without Jennings or Suzanne to protect her. This wasn't a romantic novel. Natalie realized. It wasn't a cozy little adventure, an exciting but innocuous game into which she had strayed with a happy ending and only minor discomforts to endure. Unlike Jennings, she wasn't convinced by Marius Ouayle's gentle voice and smooth manners. Gerald could be like this, too, she remembered - and that was when he was most dangerous ...
She half expected him to stop her before she reached the bathroom door, but he made no attempt to touch her; letting her pass within a few feet of him without intervening. Thankfully. Natalie gained the safety of the small but reasonably clean bathroom and slid the bolt across the door, locking it. She heaved a sigh of relief. At any rate, Marius couldn't harm her now. All she had to do was remain in the bathroom until she heard Suzanne and Jennings return.
Feeling much more secure, Natalie took off her robe and slipped the negligee down her shoulders to the floor. She kicked it away, knowing that it couldn't be worn again until she returned home and had sent it to the laundry. There was a dusty, scratched mirror hanging on one wall of the bathroom, large enough to reflect her image from head to crotch. While Natalie ran the water and waited for the bath to fill, she amused herself by standing on tiptoe in front of the glass - trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of her sex in the mirror. When she strained upwards on the very tips of her toes, she could just see the beginning of the slashed mouth: its red, puffy lips peeling slightly open as she widened her thighs and posed provocatively for no other eyes but her own.
Smiling, Natalie ran her hands slowly over the curves of her shoulders and passed her palms down onto the moving, softly heavy orbs of her breasts. Suzanne had played with them in such a beautiful, arousing fashion; and yet it was almost as nice to feel her own fingers gliding across the melons, shaping them, lifting them and tickling at the nipples until they itched pleasantly and grew to a thicker state of erection.
Natalie soothed herself in this way until the hot water was deep and its steam was beginning to obscure her fascinating, naked reflection. She felt lazy and sensual when she finally stepped into the bath; letting the water lap around her neck, leaning her head back against the white enamel between the taps and closing her eyes in languid peace. Her blonde hair flowed outwards, streaming around her face as it floated on top of the steaming water, and the girl's fair-haired pubis shimmered like a mirage just below the surface: her white belly thrusting upwards, the milky globes of her breasts also protruding half in and half out of the water - their nipples, flaring redly, looking wet and fierce at they broke through the clear, un-rippling bath water.
Natalie reached out for the soap. Her fingers took the unused bar from the tray attached to the side of the bath, and she sat up reluctantly and began to work up a lovely, generous lather. Raising her arms, she washed beneath the hollows, making her breasts lift and swell outwards in an exciting, fulsome motion. Natalie rubbed the soap slowly over first one titty, then the other; spreading a scented, bubbly foam across the globes that momentarily obscured the pink buds of her nipples. Idly, the girl cupped her hands and allowed a stream of water to pour down her chest. It washed the lather away, leaving the white surface of her flesh glistening with moisture. Natalie again fondled her tits, this time murmuring softly to herself as she admired with her fingers the fine, resilient skin and the plump weight of her breasts - jiggling the orbs gently up and down so that they formed different and amusing shapes ...
Unhurriedly, she continued with her caressing massage - not knowing that a hungry eye was watching her every movement through the keyhole!
George Burke stared unblinking at the lovely spectacle: seeing from a superb vantage point the girl's body from her knees to her face, his mouth dry and his throat burning. When Natalie Stafford finally stood up, her legs astride and her loins clearly visible to him, George pressed his face even more tightly against the cold, closed door -as if willing his eye to penetrate to the girl's most intimate secrets ...
Natalie, unaware that she was providing a superb exhibition for the frustrated man, raised one foot and rested it on the side of the bath in order to wash her thighs She thus gave George a blatant view of her cunt: the lips parting and the wet furrow gaping slightly under the stretched attitude of her legs, its red interior plainly in sight - the tempting protuberance of the girl's clitoris obtruding for a second or two as Natalie pinched the folds of her quim more widely open so that her other hand could rub the lucky bar of soap up and down her wound.
Soon, the area of Natalie's crotch was concealed by lather. It seemed as if she had grown a frothy, triangular g-string - an insubstantial covering of white foam that trickled slowly down the inside of her thighs and made George think of hot, dripping spunk ...
Without a flannel or sponge to rinse herself. Natalie was obliged to use her own hands for this purpose. She splashed the water upwards, from her calf to her thigh and crotch; and then, when most of the soap had disappeared, she sank down into the bath again, opening her legs and making "waves" with her feet that sent ripples of water eddying up between her open thighs. Cleansed and refreshed. Natalie closed her eyes. She tried to forget her surroundings, tried to shut away all thought of her captors; letting her mind relax and fill with quiet, dreamy-reveries.
"All right, you've had your fun!"
Marius elbowed George Burke to one side, dislodging the man's face from the bathroom keyhole. He stared commandingly into George's excited, perspiring features -exerting an influence which the larger man couldn't disobey. Breathing heavily. Burke reluctantly rose from his stooping position and made way for Marius; an ominous bulge in front of his trousers giving away the lust which had been aroused by Natalie's performance.
"Go and play with Jackie", Marius told him quietly. "She's waiting for you, George! She's much nicer than any other girl, isn't she?"
Burke licked his lips. Then, as if the compulsion had proved too strong for him. he turned on his heel and walked into the second bedroom - leaving; Marius with only a simple, old-fashioned door-bolt between himself and his prize. Extracting a thin but extremely hard length of wire from his pocket, Marius worked one end into the round socket where the bolt joined the door. He gently and slowly prised the bolt back: his hand so firm and his skill so controlled that the rusty catch slid open without a sound. Marius smiled. He pocketed the wire and pushed the bathroom door open, stepping into the steamy room and re-bolting the door from the inside before Natalie realized that she had been invaded!
"It's very warm in here", Marius remarked calmly. "You don't mind if I remove my jacket, do you?"
Natalie gasped. She instinctively put her hands over her breasts to cover them, wanting to scream in shock but unable to do so. The surprise was too great. It paralyzed her, making speech and movement impossible. When she did manage to find her voice, Marius had stripped off his jacket, trousers and shirt. He unfastened his shoes and pulled off his socks, then wearing only underpants -stepped to the side of the bath and leaned over.
"Hmm ... that water looks rather inviting! I think I'll climb in and soap your back for you!"
"Get away from me!" Natalie screamed suddenly. "Get away! I'll - I'll tell Jennings if you touch me!"
The threat was lame and feeble. They both knew that Robert Jennings wouldn't return for at least half an hour, probably longer. If Natalie wanted to repel Marius she would have to rely upon her own force ...
The girl looked round wildly for some kind of weapon to use against the man. But Marius was already tugging his briefs down, revealing his long cock - already pulsing with excitement and beginning to thicken and unwind from its present pendulous state to a hard, dangerous-looking erection.
"Move over!"
His voice was curt, taking on an edge that brooked no argument. Natalie trembled. There wasn't even a hair brush to beat him with! And as Marius placed one foot in the deep bath water, his hand flashed out and caught her left wrist - seizing it in a tight grip that made her squeal with pain.
"Oww! You're hurting! Please, oh please leave me alone. I haven't hurt you have I? I haven't done anything to deserve this!"
Marius looked surprised. "Oh, but you have!" he smiled. Carefully, he stepped into the bath and remained standing: his body leaning over the naked girl, his fingers biting into the frail slenderness of her wrist. They remained in this position, holding the silent tableau for several moments. Each time that Natalie made a movement with her feet or her free hand, Marius tightened the pressure of his hand, bending her wrist back until the muscles screamed their agony by sending electric shocks along the girl's arm.
"Turn round and sit up!" Marius snapped. "I want to be behind you, where those feet of yours can't kick at me!"
Natalie was forced to obey. She squirmed around in the bath, and Marius fitted his body down behind hers -stretching his legs' out so that Natalie was sandwiched between his thighs; her buttocks thrusting against the man's fully erect penis. He had brought her arm around and was pinioning Natalie's wrist in a half-nelson, making resistance quite impossible. The girl grimaced with pain, obliged to sit up as straight as possible in the bath in order not to increase the awkward stance of her arm.
"Now!" Marius panted. The warm, fleshy contact of Natalie's arse against his cock was making speech difficult. He could feel the beautiful white softness moving slightly, rubbing with a sleek, erotic pressure on his tool - and he pulled the girl further back against him, settling her haunches more firmly on his raging prick. The shaft was now sticking nicely between the two cheeks, its agitated, deeply crimson crown boring into Natalie's spine just above the dimpled cleavage.
"You can feel how you've hurt me, can't you?" he hissed between clenched teeth. "You can feel the swollen, nasty state my cock is in! And it's all your fault, you little whore! Feel it!" He jerked his hips forward, making the thick rod press even more tightly against Natalie's buttocks. "Thinking about your body, how white and soft it is, made my prick grow so big and uncomfortable. Well, since you caused it to get into this state - you're the one who can make it better ... "
Marius thrust his free hand under Natalie's right arm and fastened it securely on her breast before she could stop him. He squeezed the heavy globe, his fingers clenching fiercely into the smooth flesh and working it up and down on the girl's chest - making the titty splash in and out of the water. The nipple was shiny and swollen, its texture slippery and its hard rosebud difficult to grasp. But Marius pinched firmly at its base with his thumb and forefinger, then worked the digits carefully over the cherry - holding the teat so tightly that Natalie felt as if it had been seized in a pair of pincers.
She made a futile attempt to knock his hand away from her breast, but when Marius twisted her arm savagely she stopped resisting and forced her body to submit. This was by far the best course, she decided. If she did put up a struggle, her punishment would doubtless be severe: Marius wasn't the kind of man to forgive someone who thwarted his desire, and his revenge would obviously be painful and unpleasant ...
Perhaps, providing she didn't struggle, the ordeal wouldn't be too awful. Natalie thought quickly. All the same, she was determined not to cooperative with the brutal Marius: if he wanted to fuck her, then he would have to do all the work himself. She didn't intend to make things easy for him.
Sensing the girl's capitulation, Marius eased the pressure of his hand on her wrist. Natalie didn't move. She sat quite still, her attitude passive and stubborn; unresisting but unaroused ...
This suited Marius very well indeed. He cautiously released Natalie's wrist altogether, and when she didn't break free or try to fight back, he cupped her other breast and held both of the beauties tightly in his hands; fondling them in the slightly soapy water and pulling the girl backwards and forwards - slipping her on and off his lap so that her bottom and the hot, closed lips of her cunt rubbed excitingly against his sex. Natalie trailed her hands limply, relaxing and allowing her muscles to grow loose and tranquil. The movement of Marius' fingers on her breasts no longer worrying her. In fact, the firm motion of his hands - kneading and caressing at the globes and their pearly-red tips - was arousing her to an unwilling state of pleasure, making it increasingly difficult for her to maintain her injured air of passivity.
While he continued to massage one of the ripe tits, Marius was obliged to release one of the lovely globes in order to free his hand for a more urgent task. The throbbing in his cock had grown so intense in the past few minutes that he couldn't stand the tension any longer. Working the knob beneath Natalie's thighs, he changed the position of their legs: widening her limbs and opening them, while his knees pressed against hers. With a sharp thrill, Marius felt his cock lift against Natalie's pussy. It wasn't yet in the correct position for fucking. At its present angle - sticking through the girl's legs and pointing horizontally under the red wetness of her quim - it couldn't start to penetrate her ... but Marius intended to remedy this in just a few moments ...
Breathing harshly, he forced Natalie to turn around and face him. She complied sullenly. Her face was full of contempt as she assumed the required position, kneeling down in the bath over Marius's belly, her thighs blatantly open and her pubic hair mingling with his coarser bush as she squatted on his prick. Natalie leaned forward, her breasts swinging lightly, almost in Marius's face. Their bellies and thighs were beneath the surface of the water, and Marius could feel an extra-thrilling warmth at his loins where the girl pressed her abdomen into his crotch. He passed one hand slowly up and down her back, tracing the wet smoothness of the skin from her neck nape to her spine. Natalie tried to ignore the tingle of pleasure which ran through her at this caress. She focused her eyes sternly on the hated features of her aggressor - forcing herself to concentrate on the evil, saturnine face with its black, pointed beard now dripping with moisture where the bath water had splashed up into Marius's chin. He grinned back at her, baring teeth that were uneven and none too white.
"Get down on it!" he sneered. "Go on - if you know what's good for you, you'll take this cock into your pussy and enjoy it!"
Natalie shook her head haughtily. Her blonde hair, damp at the ends, sent a thin spray into Marius's face.
"I'm not your slave - if you want to fuck me, you'll have to do it yourself!"
Marius glared at her, the grin fading from his lips in an instant. For answer, he seized both cheeks of her arse and forced the girl's loins angrily downwards. A pinching pain flooded through Natalie's buttocks at the ruthless squeezing which he was giving to them. She felt his nails, sharp and cruel, pressing into the flesh and then the stiff thrusting of his cock-head as it probed along the furrow of her sex, searching for the opening.
Deliberately, Marius stabbed his prick upwards in a series of hard, angry jabs - feeling with intense pleasure the contractions of Natalie's loins as his shaft bruised the tender red skin of her cunt. Finally, almost without his conscious intent, the prick slide into the wet, rosy slot and fucked swiftly through the fleshy portals to its limit. When the hilt of his knob rested against Natalie's crotch, Marius checked his tight grasp of the girl's buttocks and allowed the cheeks to have a moment's respite from his pinching. He knew that he was in danger of growing overexcited by the wonderful wetness of Natalie's quim and the hot weightlessness of the bath water. Already, his cock had begun to twitch violently - and an acute itching sensation pulsed along the swollen veins on the underside of his knob. Yes, he ought to be careful ... It would be very easy to become carried away by the sexy position and shoot his fat into the girl's cunt before he had time to really enjoy her ...
Marius rested for a minute or two, not daring to begin the in-and-out strokes of his prick until he was quite sure that his lust could be controlled. And this gave Natalie an idea. Even if she couldn't avoid this rape-like seduction, she could at least terminate it as quickly as possible! Setting her mouth into a grim smile, the girl began to squirm herself around, gently riding on Marius's prick and making it plough thickly in a tight, stimulating motion inside her quim. Marius grimaced with the effort of containing his excitement. And Natalie increased her smile, savoring his discomfort, bringing all her expertise into play as she tried to hasten his climax and end her ordeal.
If Marius realized what was going through the girl's mind he was powerless to prevent her from carrying out her plan. The beautiful grinding rhythm of her cunt as the tight walls massaged his prick was too thrilling to resist. He half-closed his eyes, supporting their bodies by resting his hands on the bottom of the bath and abandoned his senses to the luscious screwing which she was giving him.
Involuntarily, his own hips came into play: working upwards to make his cock drive back and forth into Natalie's slit, the buoyancy of the water easing their efforts, Natalie now jerking her belly backwards and forwards to worry the long, thick prick like a bitch with a bone. Several times, as they fucked, Marius's cock nearly slipped free of her cunt's embrace. It always managed to stab back into the girl's slot, however, thrusting deeply into that sexy tube and parting the fleshy walls again and again. Proudly. Natalie ran her fingers through her hair, bunching it up and shimmying with her torso to make her breasts bounce freely - their nipples attracting the man's eyes with the force of a hypnotist's medallion. She was in full control now, riding on Marius with her vigorous belly movements and her undulating midriff as if she wanted to spur her stallion to exhaustion ...
Marius hadn't bargained for this. He both loved and feared the tormenting pressure of Natalie's cunt as it squeezed and released his cock: loved, because it was so thrilling, so perfectly, ecstatically blissful; hated, because he knew that the girl was cheating him, that she should have been squealing with pain and fright while he fucked her until she was sore and hysterical. He didn't dare to take his hands away from the bottom of the bath to hold her still, though. As it was, the violent threshing of their bodies was making the water splash uncomfortably over his face; causing him to splutter as the soapy moisture seeped into his mouth.
For the first time in his life, Marius Quayle had met a girl who threatened to defeat him!
He could feel the imminent explosion of his orgasm, the ruthless tickling in his balls and the hot, overpowering spasms which darted along his prick. The meeting of their sexes was becoming more and more urgent: Natalie's juicy cunt ramming down on his cock like a target that was speeding towards its arrow - making a mockery of logic and the true function of their union. It should have been Marius who was fucking into the girl's pussy but, instead, he felt as if their roles had been reversed ... as indeed they had! She showed him no mercy. Her hands were now holding her nipples out towards him, the slim fingers pinching up her distended teats and waggling them in a saucy, tantalizing action that made the blood pound in his head. Marius groaned helplessly. The final spasms were starting - and he could do nothing to prevent them from gaining in intensity. Fiercely, he strove upwards; grinding the junction of their bodies together, slamming his dick passionately into that oily crack which screwed down onto his tingling sex. Although he could no longer keep his eyes open, Marius knew that Natalie was still playing with her beautifully enlarged nipples, that she was continuing to fondle them while she squirmed her maddening hole in a circular action which made it screw into the jerking rod of his cock like a tight-fitting bottle cap.
And now, unbelievably, the pressure around his penis grew even tighter! Marius moaned like a girl, writhing in delicious anguish as she cleverly timed the muscular contractions of her cunt and worked him off to a desperate, searing climax. His prick spewed out its load of cream: pumping the spunk lavishly into Natalie's womb and shuddering with ecstasy as the tension poured away from it along with the thick juice.
Natalie gave one last, triumphant jerk of her hips. She had outwitted him! Marius had wanted to rape her, but she had turned the tables on him completely! Wriggling about so that her cunt milked the final drop of sperm from the man's quivering shaft, she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying a brief but vigorous climax: working her agitated pussy around until the hot, sharp sensations in her loins gradually subsided and she felt the warm fat seeping down her sex and merging with the richer fluid which Marius had shot into the wet, satisfied funnel.
"You bitch!" he moaned in a weak voice, as Natalie slid herself upwards and made his prick flop unwilling out of her cunt. "You bloody bitch! I'll make you pay for this - I'll screw you until you scream ... "
Natalie laughed. Jumping out of the water, she grabbed a towel and began to dry herself; At this moment she didn't give a damn about Marius and his threats. She felt as if she could cope with any situation now - and it as probably just as well that she didn't know what was passing through Marius' frustrated mind. Congratulating herself on outwitting the man - and feeling more assured than ever that her kidnapping was a novel adventure rather than a potentially terrifying life-and-death drama - Natalie had greatly underestimated the capacity of Marius's fury ...
From the beginning, he hadn't been interested in Robert Jennings' naively idealistic plans. True, the excitement had appealed to him; but even this was now super-ceded by a desire for revenge. It was no longer sufficient to have Natalie at his mercy: he wanted the girl to be humiliated ... he wanted her to suffer! And he saw no reason why he shouldn't ignore Jennings' authority as the instigator of the kidnapping and send a ransom note of his own to Gerald Stafford ...
The demand for money would be incidental, of course. More than this, Marius wanted the girl's husband to know that Natalie was in the hands of utterly ruthless men who wouldn't hesitate to kill her unless their demands were met in full. Perhaps if he cut some of her hair and mailed it to Stafford. Or possibly an even more striking mutilation would salve the wound which his ego had suffered?
Slowly, stealthily, Marius rose out of the bath and reached for the girl ...
CHAPTER FIVE
He had made the biggest mistake of his life.
The whole affair had been completely mishandled, and Gerald Stafford could blame nobody but himself for the fiasco. He had been presented with the perfect opportunity to rid himself of his unwanted, mistakenly married wife - and he had bungled it!
In the heat of the moment, seeing nothing but the glory of out-shining the other newspapers with a front-page scoop, Stafford had ignored the deeper implications of the kidnapping. He could now see that, if he had simply remained quiet about the affair - kept it out of the glare of publicity instead of drawing the whole of London's attention to it - there had been a strong possibility that the men who had snatched Natalie would kill her ...
He crashed his palms together, making a loud, angry cracking. His thick eyebrows knitted in rage as he paced the lounge of Marilyn's apartment, regretting the opportunity which had passed him by.
"It could have been the ideal solution", he told his mistress. "Our housekeeper would have cooperated - all I had to do was tell her that it was safer to deal direct with the kidnappers rather than inform the police: stressing, of course, that I'd do all in my power to make them return Natalie. Douglas Warren wouldn't have been a problem; he hasn't got the guts to oppose me - no matter what I tell him to do!
"No ... " Stafford cursed furiously. "It was all there in the palm of my hand - and I didn't even look at it! I could have told the kidnappers privately to go to hell, made it clear to them that I wouldn't meet their demands - whatever they were. And, almost certainly, they would have killed the bitch! Now, I've placed myself in a bloody awkward position: filling the front page of the Reporter with outrage - begging the bastards to return my ever-loving, terrified little wife!"
"That was your own idea!" Marilyn pointed out, a note of pleasure in her voice. "Why, you even wrote the piece yourself - under your personal signature!"
"I know, damn it ["Stafford shouted. "That's what makes it so fucking humiliating! If I'd acted quickly enough, if I'd kept the story out of my newspaper, those bastards would have known that it wasn't going to work, that I wouldn't be impressed by the kidnapping. Mark my words", he told the girl. "These people laid their plans very carefully. They know all about the workings of the newspaper industry. The fact that they snatched Natalie in the middle of the morning, only an hour before the last edition went to press, makes it obvious that they wanted the Reporter to run the story first. Why? So that they could test my reaction. It wasn't until the following morning that the other newspapers received a copy of the blackmail letter. You don't have to be a detective to work out their scheme: If nothing had appeared in the Reporter about the kidnapping, they would have known that their plan had failed - that I didn't care enough about Natalie to be intimated. Rather than risk discovery, the obvious course for them to take would be to kill the girl.
"But I fell into their trap ... I let my training as a newspaperman get the better of me. and I left myself wide open to blackmail! And now: what the hell am I going to do about their bloody ultimatum?"
Marilyn shrugged. She didn't feel herself to be particularly involved in Stafford's problem. It was his affair whether or not he changed the tone and tenor of his newspaper. Frankly, the man was beginning to seem more like a liability than an asset. She knew that she was the only person to whom he could turn for help, for moral uplift and physical pleasure. Douglas Warren, although a faithful and loyal employee, was too detached from Stafford's personal life to be able to offer much in the way of advice and encouragement; and she couldn't imagine Stafford seeking an outlet for his lust in a homosexual relationship!
No, Marilyn had become increasingly aware these past few days (since Sunday, in fact, nearly a week ago) that she was Gerald Stafford's only hope of salvation. Nearly everyone had remarked that the newspaper magnate seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown: his facial muscles had developed a constant, spasmodic tic; his features were pale and drawn, and his eyes were red from lack of sleep. However, no one except Marilyn understood that Stafford's malady was attributable - not to anxiety over Natalie - but to his intense fear that he would be forced to comply with the terms of the blackmail threat. And the even more terrible, tormenting knowledge that it wasn't the kidnappers who would force his hand but his own hypocrisy!
By publicly declaring and over-stating his concern for Natalie, Stafford had compromised himself completely. He couldn't back down now. Unless the police found his wife quickly - either alive or dead - he had no option but to publish an unequivocal apology for the trash which the Reporter had served to its readers - and a sincere promise that the paper would devote its future issues to less sensational and more intelligent matter!
The very thought of doing this stuck in Stafford's craw. He couldn't conceive of a worse humiliation. But if he held back for too long, or refused outright to bow down to this ultimatum, he would be open to accusations from the rest of Fleet Street - not to mention his own readership -that he placed a money-making journal above the safety of his own wife!
It was an intolerable position. Stafford wasn't even allowed the opportunity to stall the kidnappers. He had been given until the next edition of the Reporter to make up his mind. If next Sunday's issue didn't contain - emblazoned across the front page - the required apology, then Natalie would be killed instantly ...
It was now Friday evening ...
"Well?" he demanded angrily, staring at Marilyn who sat with her legs crossed in an armchair, cool and apparently unconcerned. "Don't just sit there - for Christ's sake, help me! Think of something!"
"I don't know what you can do", Marilyn yawned. "Actually. I can't see that it matters so very much whether you print what they want or not. Obviously, you'll publish a rebuttal and an explanation the following week - after they've returned your wife to you. So what difference does it really make?"
"What difference?" Stafford exploded. "The whole country reading an admission that my newspaper is a trashy, worthless rag, not even worth the paper it's printed on? You must be mad! I'd never live it down! It doesn't matter that I was coerced into making such a statement -what people would remember is that the Sunday Reporter carried a front-page story condemning itself!"
"Why the hell did you ever marry the bitch?" Marilyn shot the question at Stafford without warning, cutting through his self-pity like a knife. He started at her for a long moment as if he didn't understand. Then, faintly surprised that he was actually justifying his past behavior to the girl, he said quietly: "I loved her. I think I really loved her. She was young and beautiful, I was rich and successful. We seemed to have a perfect relationship for a while. Like most things, it went sour ... "
"Sex?"
Stafford nodded. "Mostly sex", he agreed. "Perhaps I was too rough with her, maybe she needed to be treated more gently, more considerately. I don't know." His face clouded. "But this has got nothing to do with the problem", Stafford exclaimed angrily. "We were in love, now it's dead. She's a strange girl in many ways - who knows why she changed? It's irrelevant! Don't you understand that I've only got twenty-four hours before the next deadline? If the police don't pick up the kidnappers by then -".
He was interrupted by a loud, persistent ringing of the front door bell. The shrill, demanding noise went on and on: a finger pressed without pause on the button, signaling the urgency of the call. Stafford jumped up.
"I'll get it!" Marilyn moved in front of him. "You'd better keep out of the way", she advised Stafford, calling back over her shoulder as she entered the hall. "You don't want to complicate matters even further by being discovered in my apartment, do you?"
Stafford waited impatiently for the girl to return. A newsman's instinct told him that something very important was about to break. Perhaps he had been unwise to risk calling on Marilyn at a time like this. Maybe ...
But it was Douglas Warren who entered the apartment, his face alight with excitement.
"We just received news at the office!" he gasped, out of breath. "This came for you - it was mailed yesterday, and it's almost certainly from the kidnappers!"
He handed Stafford a small, much-creased package. Stafford tore it open. Inside, wrapped in a fold of tissue paper was a quantity of blonde hair and a note which he instantly recognized as Natalie's handwriting.
" ... you must help me, darling (the scrawled, uneven writing begged) - I'm in terrible danger - if you don't do exactly as they want, I'll be killed by Saturday night!"
There was another letter enclosed. Stafford read the neat print quickly.
"�25,000 in used notes must be placed in the left-luggage locker in Victoria Station - Number 500. on plat
form three. Leave the key in the lock at precisely 9:p.m. on Saturday next. Any attempt to interfere with the collection of the money will result -in your wife's instant death. And should you ignore this instruction, her body will be found under a certain train by 10:p.m. on Saturday. The enclosed memento and note will convince you that I am serious".
Guessing wildly, Stafford assumed that there had been a drastic change in the kidnappers' organization; that one of their members hadn't been happy about the original terms of the ransom and had taken control out of the hands of the ringleader. Acting independently, he was demanding money rather than an apology from the Editor-in-Chief of the Reporter. Stafford rubbed Natalie's shorn hair through his fingers.
"What does it say?" Warren asked eagerly. "Is there any clue? Any hope?"
"No, it's just a final reminder. They cut off a few locks of her hair to frighten me ... "
Still sunk in thought, he crossed to the open fire which blazed and .crackled in the hearth and let the hair and the two letters drop into the hottest part of the grate. Within seconds, they were burnt to ashes.
Douglas Warren looked disappointed. "I thought it was more important than that", he sighed. "Just repeating their threat, were they?"
Stafford nodded absently. This was an unexpected stroke of good fortune. If this man carried out his promise, if Natalie was killed before the newspaper went to press on Saturday night, then he could save face after all. There would be no dilemma for him in that case: instead of printing that humiliating attack on his own journal, he could lead with a scathing, outraged editorial about the murderers who hadn't kept their promise - who had killed his wife without waiting to see if the Reporter had accepted their ultimatum ...
It would make a nice, maudlin sob-story, Stafford reflected. Suddenly, his mind was made up ...
"Listen, Douglas". He put his arm around the man's shoulder, leading him out of Marilyn's hearing. "I want you to prepare the 'apology' for me. Write it yourself and do a good job! Get it set up in type - I'm afraid we have no alternative now. I'll have to do what these bastards want ... "
Warren sighed unhappily. "There's no choice, is there, chief? Still, once your wife is returned to you we can really go to town on those rats. And the police will eventually catch up with them".
Stafford played his self-appointed role of beaten, heavy-hearted loser to the hilt. He had decided to conceal even from Douglas Warren and Marilyn the plan which had just formulated in his mind. He intended to take no chances. The required text, as demanded by the kidnappers, would be prepared ready to use in case circumstances made this necessary. But, meanwhile, he would write the alternative front page story himself: based on the supposition that the maniac who now had charge of Natalie would make good his threat to "instantly kill her" if the money wasn't in the right place at the right time ...
It was still a gamble - but it was better than no chance at all. He would know the truth about his wife's fate by first-edition time: 10:p.m. All that would be required then was a quick decision on which story to print. As he turned away from the fireplace, Stafford thought that he could detect a momentary glimmer of understanding flash across Marilyn's face. She couldn't know the contents of the letters, he assured himself quickly. No, it was just his imagination. Or perhaps, a long-silent voice in his subconscious insisted - perhaps it was a reflection of his own guilty conscience ...
Stafford pulled himself together. That was sheer nonsense, he thought angrily. Certainly, his behavior was ruthless; certainly, he wasn't concerning himself with Natalie's welfare. But did she honestly merit such consideration? The answer came back strong and clear: no! By her frigidity, by her persistent unwillingness to enjoy physical pleasure, Natalie had forfeited all rights to his care and protection. It was the newspaper which mattered. Nothing else ...
He left the apartment with Douglas Warren, no longer in the mood to spend the evening in Marilyn's arms. Soon, all this would be settled - and then he could make up for lost time with the girl. It had been six days since he had last fucked his mistress, Stafford recalled grimly. The preoccupation with this unexpected, unlooked-for problem had taken precedent over everything else in his life. No matter. It the final outcome meant that he would be free of Natalie forever - without the scandal and publicity of a divorce - then his enforced celibacy would have been worth while ...
CHAPTER SIX
But although her husband's sexual appetite had diminished since the night of her kidnapping, Natalie's desire had never before been stronger! From the time of her sexy bath with Marius Quayle (was it really six days ago?) to her present predicament, she had been subjected to an almost nonstop series of erotic escapades. And in the course of these adventures, Natalie had matured considerably; her personality undergoing a rapid metamorphoses as she experienced the kind of sexual games which, previously, she believed to exist only in fantasy.
Before disclosing the sequence of events which led to her suspenseful Saturday night in the clutches of Marius, it is necessary to return the reader first of all to the scene where we left Natalie: drying herself in the bathroom, unaware that Marius was creeping up behind her ... We must now examine in detail the slow completion of her education, in order that the girls final, uncharacteristic decision can be understood and appreciated. Like most people. Natalie Stafford had been a creature of contrasts. Her life, up to the trauma of her kidnapping, was dull and uneventful; and yet she nursed dreams of vague excitement, fantasies of being carried off to a new and better existence by a dashing movie star - the 20th century equivalent of a knight in shining armour. Nobody could have suspected this from her outward behavior, however. Nor could they have guessed that Natalie was possessed of a violently sensual nature - and that her stubborn resistance to her husband's sexual advances was due solely to his lack of technique, his total inability to invest the sexual act with subtle, imaginative touches ...
She was like a phoenix about to rise from the ashes of her old life now: her personality in a state of flux, her values twisted and her true desires ready to be shaped into whatever mould fate held for them. If Marius Quayle had been successful in overcoming her immediately - if Robert Jennings and Suzanne hadn't returned at the precise moment when Natalie was struggling with the frustrated rapist - the outcome of her adventure and the new persona which was fighting for birth inside her would have been vastly different ...
But providence decreed that she should be rescued, and Jennings rushed into the unlocked bathroom, attracted by the girl's screams and the violent scuffling. He shoved Marius aside, cursing him with all the invective he could summon - then bundled Natalie into the bedroom. Suzanne was there, two carrier bags in her hands, and she glanced quickly up and down Natalie's semi-clad body -draped only by the inadequate towel - reassuring herself that the girl hadn't been harmed.
"That fucking maniac". Jennings bolted the bathroom door, locking Marius inside. "I'm sorry about this, Mrs. Stafford. I was a fool to think that I could trust him alone with you." His face was whiter than usual, his body trembling with anger and nerves. "I ought to have learned my lesson years ago; you can't trust anybody in this world, no one is completely reliable - except yourself!"
"He wouldn't listen to me. darling", Suzanne said to Natalie. "I told him that Quayle was likely to attack you as soon as we were out of sight." She stepped to the girl's side and touched her arm. "Did he hurt you?" she asked anxiously. "Did the bastard lay his hands on you? If he did, I'll -".
"You'll do nothing!" Jennings snapped at her. "You've done enough harm already. I suppose you realize what this means, don't you? I dare not leave the cottage now. I'll have to stand guard over you every minute of the day and night. And I won't be able to go to London and find out what's happening - what's going on in Stafford's mind. We'll be prisoners here. All of us! Not just Mrs. Stafford, but you. Suzanne! And George and Marius! And me!"
There was an expression in Natalie's eyes which told Suzanne that she had very recently had sex. It wasn't hard to define: a brightness around the irises, a sleepy dilation to the pupils ... Suzanne felt amused and intrigued. She searched in one of the carrier bags until she found a bottle of Haig whisky, then said casually:
"I need a drink. If we're all going to be prisoners, Robert, then we might as well make life as pleasant as possible - don't you agree?"
Jennings had slumped onto the bed, nervous exhaustion making him feel weak and used-up. He stretched out his feet, lying full-length on the covers with his eyes closed wearily. It had been impossible to gather much information about Gerald Stafford's reaction. He needed a long period of sitting in the Fleet Street bars, striking up casual conversations with journalists and newspaper employees to do this. Telephone calls to his acquaintances, some of whom worked on other papers, had proved useless. And now, through the stupidity of his companions,, he was forced to wait out the long days until next Sunday morning before he could make his next move ...
"Pour me one, too - a large one!" he told Suzanne. "We'll let Marius cool off in the bathroom for a while. He doesn't deserve any refreshment!" Taking the neat whisky which Suzanne held out to him. Jennings drained the tumbler in a single gulp and held his glass out for a refill.
Half an hour later, the whisky bottle had sunk to a quarter of its original capacity; and Natalie felt a lovely, glowing sensation in her tummy - a warmth that expanded through her body and seemed to lift her upwards into a rosy, euphoric haze of well-being. The towel was still draped loosely around her body, but she had stopped trying to hold it in place and the folds opened and closed at random - displaying generous glimpses of her breasts and the still-damp patch of her pubic bush. Relaxing under the alcohol, even Jennings had finally taken notice of Natalie's body! He found his eyes returning again and again to the white, beautiful figure; felt his breath catching as he saw the curvy thighs and the flashes of red wound which peeped through the blonde triangle whenever the girl's legs opened for a moment. Stimulated by the rough friction of the towel, her nipples were slightly stiff and bulging with a prominent, flushed color each time the improvised garment flared out of the way. It was a pity, Jennings reflected, that the towel covered Natalie's bottom. Although it only just stretched below the round, fleshy curves of her buttocks, emphasizing their shape, the towel served to hide the true voluptuousness of the cheeks: and he began to strain his eyes, hoping that the girl would stoop slightly and give him a proper look at her ripe young arse ...
Lightheaded and happy, Natalie sipped at her third -or was it her fourth? - glass of whisky, feeling restless, pacing around the room with no particular purpose ... until she realized that, subconsciously, she was deliberately posing for Jennings! When this notion broke through to her conscious mind, Natalie grew bolder. She allowed the towel to fall completely away from her body, no longer making even a token effort to hold it in place across her chest and loins. But she teasingly kept her back towards the man: knowing that he was anxious to glimpse her bottom and delaying the revelation for as long as possible.
The soft, fleshy nest between her thighs felt moist and sticky; the lips of her sex itching as they pressed together and generated an even hotter excitement. She bent down finally, pretending to brush away a piece of cotton which had strayed between two of her toes but remaining in a stooped position for several minutes, acutely aware that Jennings was fastening his eyes on the exposed flesh of her arse and staring down the crease, into the pinkness of her cunt.
"Damn!" Natalie raised one leg and placed her foot on an upright chair, bending over from the waist and purposely thrusting her buttocks out. Jennings, still lying on the bed but turned on his side so that he faced the girl, could see in a straight line of vision to the gorgeous, open thighs and the red, parted treasure-trove which gaped between them. The plump, mossy mound of Natalie's cunt-lips stared back at him - their red lobes parting and trembling, betraying the hot, deep furrow which nestled along their inner ridges.
And as a result of Natalie's revealing stance, he could also admire the generous spread of her buttocks, the smooth, naked spheres swinging slightly open and almost exposing the second, smaller orifice which lay deep inside the creamy arse-globes.
When she finally stood up again, Natalie's face was pink and her breath had quickened. She felt a little sore, the lining of her cunt still bruised from the impact of Marius's prick, but her knowledge that two pairs of eyes - Suzanne's and Robert Jennings' - had been gazing so avidly at her almost-naked body for the past minutes made her excited and ready to fuck again.
The combination of whisky and bending down for quite a long time had made the blood rush to Natalie's head. She was hot, and the room seemed to shimmer as if it was being viewed under a blazing sun. Swaying, the girl moved towards Suzanne and giggled drunkenly.
"Here, you'll catch a cold if you don't put some clothes on!" Suzanne put her arm around Natalie's waist, feeling the sleekness of the flesh through the towel. She slipped her hand upwards until her fingers were touching the middle of Natalie's back - then eased them beneath the girl's armpit and onto her left breast. Moving her hand fractionally, Suzanne worked the towel downwards an inch at a time. She stared down at the expanse of white skin which was slowly being exposed: waiting breathlessly to see the rim of the nipple appear ...
Robert Jennings drank the rest of his whisky without moving his eyes from the girls. He felt suddenly reckless, no longer caring what happened to his project. Like a spring that had been wound up for too long, his nerves had been strained to breaking point during these past two days. It was time for him to unwind a little - or explode in senseless fury. Reaching for the dwindled bottle, he hastily topped up his glass - splashing a little onto his fingers as he watched Natalie and Suzanne in their erotic, sensuous embrace.
One of Natalie's tits was naked now, bursting like a ripe melon from the loosened towel, while her other breast remained - concealed but bulging prettily - safe from Jennings' eyes for the moment. Natalie stood with her eyes dreamily closed while Suzanne whispered against the lobe of her ear and softly massaged the titty which she had bared. The girl rubbed it slowly up and down, then from side to side; making the flesh spring willingly to whichever position she desired, its fullness and its ample, buxom weight rolling lazily under Suzanne's fingers. Then, as her nipple began to be tweaked by her friend's active forefinger - the bud tormented into a rich, rosy thickness - Natalie pouted in a tipsy, exaggerated moue and shifted slightly away from the lesbian. Suzanne gazed soulfully at the beautiful young woman, Natalie's teat still caught firmly between her thumb and forefinger - the breast lifted into a tempting, swelling shape.
"I want to see the undies you bought for me!" Natalie said softly. "I'm sure you chose some really sexy panties and things, didn't you, darling? Nice silky briefs and bras that will show my figure off? Please let me try them on! And Jennings can watch, can't he?" She glanced at the man. Jennings was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs apart and an obvious bulge betraying his excitement. His whisky glass was again half-empty, and a parched, dry sensation at the back of his throat testified to the sexual, as well as to the alcoholic, tension which pounded through his mind.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Natalie murmured. "You'd like to see my body in pretty under-clothes, wouldn't you, Mr. Jennings?"
Her voice was like that of a petulant schoolgirl; demanding her own way, and willing to go to any lengths in order to achieve her aims. Without waiting for his answer, Natalie took Suzanne's wrist in her hand and gently wobbled it up and down - making her breast shake as the tremor was communicated to her nipple through the girl's finger and thumb. The towel slid all the way down her body to the floor.
"Get them out for me, darling", she pleaded with Suzanne. "See - I'm completely naked now! I must have something to cover my titties and my bottom!"
Her beautifully nude figure and her sexy voice had sharpened the man and the woman's lust to a fine-honed edge of excitement. Quickly, Suzanne dipped her hand into the second carrier bag and brought out a number of cellophane-wrapped packages. She untied them, choosing first of all a very modern, wasp-waisted corset in pale pink; fastened with strong laces at the front and with a brassiere that was cut sharply away to give maximum cleavage and display of the breasts.
Thrilled, Natalie held the brief underthing in her hands, passing her fingers over the extremely scanty garment and exclaiming with delight.
"Oooh! I can't wait to put it on!" she told Suzanne, her eyes shining. "It will be a very tight squeeze, though ... " She touched the vee of the crotch, feeling its soft lining of satin. "Just imagine: in a few moments my pussy will be pressing snugly against this, making it hot and - and moist. I'm afraid!"
Her hands trembling. Suzanne stooped and held the corset out while Natalie carefully stepped into its severely abbreviated "legs". Then she drew the corset up over the girl's hips and waist, standing close to Natalie so that she could bring the loose bra cups into place.
Natalie shuddered ecstatically at the sexy pleasure which the corset was giving to her body. Although it hadn't been fastened yet, she could feel the pressure under her cunt already - a warm constriction against the lips of her sex, and then a firmer swaddling as Suzanne tugged the lacing at the front of the garment and began to thread and secure the two lengths of cord.
Her breasts were only half-covered by the daringly low-cut brassiere section of the corset; Natalie felt the hard whalebone thrusting upwards beneath her titties and forcing the together - pushing into the firm dumplings, making them cream beautifully in two out-spilling white swellings that thrilled her intensely. Gazing down proudly at herself, the girl couldn't resist touching the naked portions of her tit-flesh. She rubbed gently across the buxom slopes with the pads of her fingers, feeling the skin rippling slightly - too tightly compressed by the corset to move too freely. Obediently, she sucked in her breath and held the air in her lungs while Suzanne struggled to achieve the maximum tightness, finally lacing the cords in a knot and standing back to admire her handiwork.
It was a breathtaking sight. Natalie looked irresistibly glamorous in her provocative under-garment; the tiny, nipped-in waist giving added allure to the luscious, swelling line of her hips and thighs. A tautly stretched hem ran across her crotch, but it was raised high enough to permit the sharp triangle of the girl's sex to be visible: and by taking a closer inspection (going down on her knees and bringing her face to the level of Natalie's thigh-tops) Suzanne could see the exact shape of the cunt-lips - two prominent, snugly held ridges which thrust passionately against the silk of the pantie-section of the corset.
"Turn round, darling". Suzanne could scarcely find her voice. The words emerged from her throat, hoarse and pregnant with emotion. "Let me see how well it fits around your lovely derriere!"
Natalie turned. She moved gracefully and without haste; slowly presenting her rear view to the hot-eyed man and woman. The spontaneous exclamations of pleasure with which this action was greeted made her flush with pride. Suzanne, who had remained on her knees and was thus perfectly situated to view the girl's buttocks from close range, generously moved aside so that Jennings could also feast his eyes on the alluring, sensational display ...
Natalie's arse was cuddled urgently by the base of the corset. The cheeks had been gathered together and made to protrude with a greater than usual prominence; fully half of their circumference left naked by the scanty cut of the panties. A lavish expanse of the white flesh swelled out, and down the centre of the two perfectly matches globes the material had delved inwards - showing plainly the deep division of the buttocks.
Natalie herself felt so sweetly precious and feminine that her heart seemed to skip beats from the sheer ecstasy of being a woman! She was intensely aware of her body. It thrilled her to the heights of bliss to enjoy the pressure of her curves as they strained against the tightness of the corset: her breasts, pushing forward so ripely; her waist, held as if by an iron hand; her crotch - oh yes! her crotch most of all! - squeezed intimately by the silk of the tiny panties!
But she wanted other hands to enjoy her charms. It wasn't enough merely to possess such a beautiful figure. Natalie felt the compulsion to share her treasures ... and she turned eagerly to Suzanne - catching the other girl's wrists and placing her fingers firmly on the trembling inner flesh of her thighs. As Suzanne huddled closer, fondling at the wonderful bare legs and reaching towards the cunt-scented loins, Natalie opened her thighs and transferred her hands to the girl's head. She squashed Suzanne's face roughly against her crotch, thrusting forward with her hips and making her fevered pubis rub into the lesbian's mouth.
Suzanne opened her lips. The hot musk of Natalie's sex burned ripely through the thin silk of the panties -igniting her lust until she wanted nothing but to feast on the wet pussy which pulsed so strongly against her face. She kissed passionately at the bulging triangle, inhaling through her nostrils, working her lips up and down and then from side to side in her eagerness to enjoy the moist, scantily covered quim ...
Robert Jennings rose unsteadily to his feet. The girls had aroused him more than he cared to admit, but it was impossible to think of calling a halt to their pleasure. There was an uncomfortable constriction against his pants - a tension as he came into an upright position that was caused by the fierce throbbing of his prick. He hadn't realized that his cock had grown so stiff. Fumbling with his belt and fly, Jennings pulled his trousers down and sighed with relief as he lifted the tight waistband of his underpants away from the strongly beating shaft. It jerked into view, quivering with red righteousness - proud and prominent. There was a tiny bead of spunk at its crown; a small but thick globule of sperm which had pressed out of his pisser unnoticed, and as Jennings moved towards Suzanne and Natalie it trickled gently down the inside of his knob, finally wasting away in the tangle of his pubic hair.
He went behind the girls, his desire fuelled by the soft, persistent sound of Suzanne's lips as they kissed and sucked at Natalie's cunt - her tongue sliding urgently up and down the heated furrow and soaking the pantie silk until it became transparent. Jennings paused only to strip off his shirt, vest and socks, then he went on his knees and brought his face close to the tantalizing mounds of white flesh which were thrusting cheekily out of Natalie's tight corset. He swallowed to relieve the dryness of his throat; the girl's bum was so close, so nearly naked that he could see the faint pore marks of its skin - the creamy-smooth surface of the globes tensing slowly but passionately as the clever Suzanne manipulated her lips into the cleft of Natalie's cunt and drove the girl almost insane with pleasure.
Jennings put both of his hands on the open thighs, tightening his fingers around the lusciously full legs and savoring the firm yet soft flesh at his leisure. He kept his eyes on her arse; watching the slow movement of his hands as they crept steadily closer to the half-nude orbs, fondling higher and higher now - his thumbs moving into the thick crease which curved beneath each beautiful cheek ...
At last he was touching the bare bottom itself! Jennings couldn't control himself any longer. He uttered a wild, choked cry and slid his fingers under the close-fitting constriction of the corset, groping them frenziedly onto the twitching buttocks and delving roughly into the wonderful, resilient white flesh!
This savage intrusion beneath the taut cut of her panties made Natalie's briefs sink sharply into the wet meat of her loins. She could feel the silk triangle pulling roughly against her tender cunt-lips, digging so tightly into the puffy lobes that it formed a second skin. But this momentary -discomfort soon became an even greater pleasure, because it enabled Suzanne's tongue to stick more deeply into her sex-cleft - burrowing between the well-defined slit and licking wetly along the pursed, pouting labia.
Natalie became intrigued by Jennings' unexpected arousal. Through the whisky-fogged glaze of her mind, she saw that it would be much more exciting to let him caress her as freely as he desired, rather than continue with Suzanne's ministrations. After all, she had already enjoyed the lesbian's sexual attentions: and poor Robert seemed as if he hadn't fucked or even fondled a girl for quite a long time. She coolly pushed Suzanne away from her crotch - ignoring the cry of protest which the brunette uttered - and squirmed around to face Jennings.
Smiling down at the man, Natalie met his eyes for a moment and then cradled his face against her crotch. The distended vee was wet from Suzanne's saliva, but Jennings fastened his lips hungrily around the smooth, tightly strained silk and sucked at the genitals; returning his hands to the lovely arse and caressing the cheeks while he sniffed and licked at Natalie's out-thrust sex ... '
After a few moments of this, Natalie decided to respond more actively to the man's passion. Ignoring Suzanne completely, she crouched down until she was on a level with Jennings' and then they both sprawled together on the floor - embracing tightly, kissing and exploring each other's mouths with eagerly darting tongues, their bodies jammed urgently against one another - his strongly pulsing prick twitching between Natalie's crotch and his own belly.
As they rolled and pressed their loins together. Natalie's corset slipped down slightly, making her breasts pop out of the bra-cups. A deep crimson indent ran across the globes, just above her nipples, where the hard whalebone had scored into the tender white flesh; and it remained there - an exciting blemish on the otherwise perfect skin - enabling Jennings to trace his forefinger along the crease before he savagely seized her titties in both hands and fondled them, twisted and mauled them, until his cock was brought to the verge of ejaculation.
He started to fumble with the intricate lacing of her corset, his fingers shaking violently as he strove to unfasten the tight knot which Suzanne had tied at the girl's bodice. And, sensing that there was now very little time before Jennings had to spend his lust, Natalie whispered in his ear that she would love to suck the sperm out of his prick ... that he could soon regain his vigor and fuck her, but that she couldn't wait to taste his beautiful spunk!
Turning over on his back, Jennings allowed the girl to go down on his aching, twitching weapon. She knelt over his loins with her back towards his head - allowing him to view her sensationally exciting posterior while she closed her ruby lips around his staff. The crown was so thick and swollen that Natalie had to stretch her mouth to its widest capacity in order to get her lips around it. She hesitated for a moment, fearful of the rigid member which was about to penetrate her mouth, then bravely carried out her promise. Jennings felt a hot, surging sensation around his sex-flesh as the girl took it between her lips. The liquid suction of her tongue made his veins stand out even more prominently, the strong throbbing increasing as Natalie licked around the ridge of the glans before allowing the cock to slide deeply to the back of her throat.
The bulging prick wavered back and forth under the motion of Natalie's mouth - bending now to the left, now to right as the girl played with it. Jennings urged his arse up from the floor, grinding his hips in a sudden frenzy, driven to the point of insanity by the generous sucking which Natalie gave to his shaft. It was almost better than a cunt, he thought! She was wriggling her soft lips about, using her tongue to bring exquisite sensations to the sensitive crown each time it surged backwards and fucked forward again. The deep, intense rhythm beat like a pulse in Jennings' brain: in ... out ... , forward ... back! He clenched his fists and groaned with delicious agony. The girl was riding and squirming on his chest, her hot crotch writhing up and down against his bare flesh, the cheeks of her arse almost totally visible to his bloodshot, over-excited eyes. She brought her head down fiercely, gulping his big cock into her mouth as if it were a giant lollipop - sucking all the flavor out of it. her greedy lips smacking loudly each time they tightened and released the swollen horn ...
The jerks of his hips became faster and faster. Jennings couldn't control himself now. Jumping the lower half of his body vigorously up and down, he fixed his eyes on the luscious sight of Natalie's corset-pantie: concentrating the last, ebbing rays of his attention on the grinding arse-cheeks and the narrow strip of silk which ran down between them and became swollen under the girl's thighs by the thrust of her cunt-lips.
And at one of her down-sucking strokes, as her lips sank to the hilt of his prick and she drew with all her might on the pulsing stem ... Jennings released a thick, creamy spray of spunk into her mouth.
Choking with the messy fluid, but too aroused to care, Natalie remained with her lips tightly pressed around the man's cock; holding her head quite still while she received the lavish, urgently spouting tribute. A second quick flooding followed the first, and Jennings cried loudly in his passion as the orgasm raged on and on ... pumping out his semen and rolling his face from side to side in an agonized ecstasy.
Before the climax had fully abated, Natalie slid her mouth gently and slowly along the shaft until her lips were clinging tightly to the crest. She squeezed the sticky, bespattered arrow; making an erotic pattern around its tender glans with her tongue, gasping with pleasure as her efforts were rewarded by yet another stream of ammonia-tasting sperm!
Her eyes shining happily, the girl released Jennings' prick and watched it flop out of her mouth. She crouched for several minutes, regarding it closely; her eyes following the final jerkings of the tool as its excitement slowly abated and its proud virility began to wane.
She had made yet another conquest, Natalie thought. First Suzanne, then Marius - and now the leader of the gang himself, Robert Jennings! AH of them had fallen prey to her charms. Now there was only the strange, possibly mentally retarded George Burke ... But in her present mood, still intoxicated by the quantity of whisky which she had consumed and by the sexual excitement which coursed through her loins - as yet unsatisfied -Natalie had no thought other than immediate, physical satisfaction. She wasn't inclined to speculate just yet on the advantages which might be gained by her sexual triumphs. That would come later. Right now, she felt too stimulated, too heated and aroused to care about anything except the urgent, tickling sensation which flowed through her loins.
Hungrily, the girl eased herself to her feet and turned towards Suzanne ...
CHAPTER SEVEN
"It must be my French ancestry, darling!" Suzanne replied in answer to Natalie's whispered question. The girls were exchanging confidences while Robert Jennings lounged sleepily in an armchair; his heavy, labored breathing testifying to the man's temporary incapacity to be more than a spectator at the present time ...
"There's always been a myth that the French are the sexiest nation in the world", Suzanne smiled. "Perhaps one of my great-grandmothers was related to Marie Antoinette! Maybe I've inherited some of her wiles - but tell me. Natalie: do you really think I'm such a sexy girl?"
"Oh, yes!" Natalie breathed. "You're one of the most horny females I've ever known. Not that I've been to bed with many lesbians", she added hastily. "But I can't imagine a girl being able to arouse me the way you do, my darling. That's why I asked you how you learned to be so ... ooh' so wonderfully, beautifully ... ahhhh!"
Natalie broke off, unable to control her voice as Suzanne applied the final touches to her right nipple. She was lying full-length on the bed, stark naked - the corset finally removed and draped forlornly over the edge of the mattress - her thighs pressed together and her body aching with the desire to move. But she had been instructed to remain completely still: not stirring an inch while Suzanne carried out her ticklish task ...
The whisky had long since been finished. Its effects on Natalie and Suzanne hadn't been to render them somnambulant or rowdy, however; they had both succumbed instead to a state of intense, prolonged physical desire - a desire which refused to be satiated, no matter how wild and passionate they became. After an initial, straightforward bout of love-play - Suzanne quickly bringing Natalie to a copious, violent climax by stripping off the girl's corset and sucking voraciously at her naked cunt - they had paused for only a few minutes before commencing a new, and more stimulating game.
The first stage was just being completed. Suzanne placed a paper tissue over Natalie's right nipple, pressed down lightly and blotted the teat carefully. It had been painted over with a bright crimson lipstick: the already blushing cherry enhanced to a ripe vermilion, the firm strokes of the pencil causing the nipple to stiffen and swell with pride and desire - its very prominent button now fiercely aflame.
Suzanne pursed her lips and sat up on the bed. She cocked her head, studying her artistry from every angle, then touched the nipple and examined her fingertip.
"It's dry already!" she exclaimed. "You'll have to scrub pretty hard to get this off, you know, darling! Are you sure you want me to do the other one?"
"Oh, yes! Please paint it for me!" Natalie begged. "And you won't forget to do my pussy, will you? You promised me, Suzanne - you've got to keep your word!"
The girl slid her hand briefly between Natalie's thighs and fondled her fingers quickly against the slick, heated slit of her friend's cunt.
"I think your quim is red enough, madam!" she teased. "Those pretty lips don't need any more coloring!" Suzanne saw the serious, plaintive expression in Natalie's eyes and relented. "Oh, all right", she reassured the girl. "I'll do them! But first of all ... that other nipple of yours looks quite pale compared to its sister! We'll have to remedy that, won't we?"
She twisted the metal casing of the lipstick and exposed another inch of the blood-red cosmetic. Leaning across Natalie's nude body, Suzanne carefully placed its pointed tip on the girl's left teat. Natalie shivered. With her eyes closed, the lipstick felt like the hard, warm crest of a miniature prick; first pressing, and then rubbing with a steady but tiny movement across her nipple and sending delighted pangs of pleasure through her body.
With her free hand, Suzanne held the globe of Natalie's breast steady. The pliable, easily wobbled orb might have jogged about too much without this precaution -and Suzanne intended the girl's nipples to look like a work of art when she had finished. No smears, no ugly smudges or stray lines were to be discerned. She bent very close to her "canvas", holding her breath and trying not to blink too much as she made-up the teat: finally rouging the aureole so that the darker circle of skin around Natalie's nipple was also brilliantly highlighted.
"There!" Suzanne blotted the second teat with another tissue, then gently wiggled the girl's breast. "Now I can proceed to more interesting areas!"
She moved further down the bed and separated Natalie's thighs. Gazing between the open legs, Suzanne pretended to seek inspiration in the raw, naked wound which nestled in its warm haven of blonde hair. "Bend your knees for me, darling", she commanded. And Natalie obeyed immediately, lifting her legs and assuming the most vulnerable, immodest position possible; her thighs widely open and her drawn-up knees far apart. Suzanne, who was also completely naked, resisted the temptation to press her lips against the darling, peeping gash and curled up between Natalie's thighs instead - her hands, rather than her mouth, venturing up to the girl's luscious vagina and preparing to daub the cunt-lobes a brighter shade of crimson.
This feat required an even greater application of her skill as a make-up artiste. Suzanne gently took the right-hand lobe between her forefinger and thumb. She pulled it softly away from its twin, feeling beneath the tip of her digits the wet smooth flesh of Natalie's inner quim-wall. Keeping her other hand as steady as possible, the girl drew a thick stroke down the tender, sensitive ridge with her lipstick; trying to ignore the quivering of Natalie's thighs against her body and fighting back her own excitement as she etched up and down the pinched pink skin.
By the time that Natalie's pussy had been well and truly daubed, both girls were in a state of intense sexual stimulation. Robert Jennings had been completely forgotten in their mutual, selfish pleasure; their attention was directed exclusively at one another - and Natalie was impatient to view the results of Suzanne's artistry in a mirror. Her lesbian friend quickly produced a small glass from her handbag and held it between Natalie's thighs. Sitting up on the bed, Natalie sucked in her breath at the reflection of her transformed cunt-lips.
The contrast between their richly crimson hue and the whiteness of the surrounding flesh was beautiful to behold. Her quim seemed to be glowing with colour, its portals of thick, juicy flesh coloured so brightly red that Natalie felt sure they would shine in the dark!
"This used to be quite a common practice", Suzanne remarked. She watched the girl's excitement with undisguised lust, her hands remaining on Natalie's thighs and caressing the superb smoothness at the underside, just below the juncture where they joined the girl's buttocks. "Years ago - in England as well as in France - the courtesans would apply rouge to their nipples and pussies! It was considered perfectly respectable in those days, too!"
Natalie lay back and stretched her arms languidly above her head.
"Touch me", she implored, her voice husky and full of emotion. "Please make love to me, darling. I want to feel your lips on my breasts - I wont you to suck my lovely red tits and rub your mouth all over my pussy! Do anything you like with me ... I'm yours, Suzanne - all yours!"
But as the girl leaned forward, eager to comply with the sexy invitation. Jennings came abruptly to life. He staggered from his chair as if the soft, pleading words had been addressed to him instead of Suzanne, and without ceremony or warning he shoved the lesbian aside; falling heavily on top of Natalie's soft, prostrate body and panting heavily as he felt the warm contact of her breasts and belly beneath him. Natalie opened her mouth in surprise. But she didn't really mind Jennings' intrusion - though she saw no reason why she shouldn't enjoy the pleasure of two pairs of lips on her erotic parts ...
"There's room enough for both of you", she protested, making no effort to fight against the man's hungry embrace. He had wrapped his arms around her and was holding Natalie in a fierce bear-hug, crushing her softness to his chest and feeling her breasts squashing ripely as he pressed down into them, "Don't be greedy, darling! Let Suzanne share me. too! After all, she was so patient and she made my quim and titties look so pretty!"
His sudden lust partly gratified by the girl's willing kisses. Jennings reluctantly shifted his position on the bed - enabling Suzanne to snuggle down on the other side of Natalie's body. The girl eased her thighs so that she was thrusting one leg between Jennings' limbs and the other between Suzanne's: permitting them to rub their respective genitals into the generous flesh of her thigh-tops.
"Now!" she exclaimed, cuddling them closer to her, one arm around each of their necks. "Isn't this nice and cozy? Mmmm! I feel like a very lucky girl: I've got two beautiful lovers to play with, haven't I?"
Natalie turned her face towards Jennings first. She kissed him with her mouth closed, then gradually parted her lips under the insistent pressure of his tongue; letting it dart forward between her teeth and lick as freely as he wished around the wet recess - caressing and tickling at her gums until the saliva flowed freely from her mouth and into his. Stroking with encouraging, petting fingers at the nape of the man's neck, Natalie began to move her thigh up and down: feeling Jennings' prick growing stiff and hard at the gentle friction, its snake-like limpness swelling and thickening rapidly as she provided a sexy pillow for his rod.
Simultaneously, both Suzanne and Jennings reached their hands across to Natalie's loins! Their fingers touched, recoiled for a moment, and then accepted the necessity of sharing the prize which they were both seeking. Suzanne contended that - since she had brought the girl to her present state of excitement - she therefore had the right to make the first penetration. And while Jennings fondled at the hard mound of Natalie's pubis, stroking his fingers through the fine blonde pubic hair and minutely examining the mossy little hump. Suzanne joyously inserted two of her digits into their captive's cunt.
She opened the wound slowly, gently disturbing the layers of plump flesh until Natalie herself - unable to stand the sweet torment - pushed down hard on the tantalizing fingers and forced them to sink fully inwards. With the complete introduction of the lesbian's fingers, Natalie's slit was stretched rudely apart; and the upper opening of the gash (the slightly more narrow section where the quim first began to gape) became available to Jennings' exploration.
He put the tip of his index finger into the apex of the girl's cunt. Almost immediately, Jennings felt the stiff pearl of her clitoris throbbing against his nail. Turning the finger gently around, he rubbed it slowly backwards and forwards across the gristly protuberance; increasing its hardness and making it wiggle sexily, as if the saucy little appendage was endeavoring to match the throbbing size of his prick!
Together, cooperating and not interfering with each other's pleasure, Suzanne and Jennings fondled and frigged Natalie to a wet spending. They steadily increased the movement of their fingers - tickling faster and faster at the crimson slit - until the girl bathed their hard-working hands with a thin, runny fat. It splashed mainly on Suzanne's fingers: and the lesbian's thighs clenched urgently around Natalie's outstretched leg, her own desire brought to boiling point by the uncontrolled spasms which had seized her lover's body. She rode lustily on the firm white flesh, rubbing with all her might and making her distended pussy-lips froth out a humid, fishy liquid. Then, with an uncharacteristic show of generosity, Suzanne moved her hand and her body away from Natalie, smiling at Jennings and silently inviting the man to take any position he desired!
A little suspicious at first, he nevertheless went face down between the girl's thighs - wanting to study the carefully lipsticked cunt in detail before he eased his prick into the rouged slit. Suzanne nodded encouragingly.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured. "I feel quite proud of the way I've coloured her pussy - it looks good enough to eat, doesn't it?"
Jennings squirmed down until his eyes were only inches from Natalie's sex. He thrust his hands beneath her bottom and raised the cheeks, bringing her slightly off the bed and enabling his eyes to travel slowly and lustily over the girl's sweet, dripping cunt. Natalie put her legs over his shoulders. She was now resting her thighs against Jennings' shoulders - the soft crook at the back of her knees pressing down into his collarbone. He was now only an inch or two from Natalie's bare, exquisitely reddened quim; all of its secrets unfolded to his eyes, her moist, fleshy interior stretched wide and the layers of pink, tender muscle which darkened as they pulsed deeper inwards to the final mystery.
Very slowly, Jennings examined the whole of the girl's sex. His eyes encompassed the quivering clitoris, the distended 0 of her vulva, the loose, supple flesh-flaps at the base of her cunt. And then they traveled even further down, his hands pulling her buttocks open so that he could also see between the cheeks and view in giant close-up the pretty, dark-stained skin around her anus. Jennings widened the globes until they refused to stretch any more. He panted excitedly as the little hole of her arse gaped and then - his heart thudding painfully against his chest - the man burrowed his nose and mouth between Natalie's gloriously spread-eagled thighs and commenced to suck ...
At first, the movements of his lips were haphazard and over-eager. He gobbled greedily into the moss-encircled mound of cunt, pushing forward with his mouth and slurping noisily as he tasted the strong, intimate odours and the bitter, seawed flavour of the juices which kept Natalie's quim nicely lubricated. But soon, after Jennings had rubbed his lips freely over the wide-open vagina, he adopted a more leisurely, more painstaking technique.
"What is he doing to you now. my darling?" Suzanne whispered into Natalie's ear. She had slipped one arm beneath the girl's neck and was cuddling her closely - her free hand lying carelessly on Natalie's chest and caressing the beautiful flesh just .below her breasts; the fingers already beginning to move slowly upwards, ready to ascend over the full, rising globes.
Natalie sucked at her lower lip. frowning with concentration and pleasure.
"I can feel his tongue on my ditty", she replied eventually. "He's kicking up and down it - ohh, it's hurting me a little bit! It tickles so much that I can hardly stand it!"
"There, there!" the other girl soothed her. "You must be brave, darling! Tell your Suzanne what your pussy-feels like. Is it very wet? Does it throb when his lips suck at it?"
"Yes! Oh yes!" Natalie sobbed. "I can't describe the feeling. It's hot and itchy, it makes me want to come and come ... Oh. Suzanne! Touch my titty for me! Rub the nipple - pinch it as hard as you can!"
"I'll do better than that!" Suzanne vowed. She put her mouth over the red, bursting stalk instead and gripped it tightly between her front teeth. Very, very slowly, the lesbian closed her teeth. Tighter and tighter ... The teat was flaring hugely in her mouth, a thick, rubbery bud that seemed - to her fevered imagination - to swell and grow until it was almost as big as her tongue. She bit remorselessly on the nipple, working her teeth down to the rouged circle around its base, tasting the lipstick and sucking with her tongue at the juice red morsel which bulged so sexily in her mouth.
"Aahhh!" Natalie's hips rose and fell in a tense, agitated rhythm: she drummed her legs helplessly on Jennings' shoulders under the dual stimulation of his lips and Suzanne's - every inch of her body flaming with desire. The fiery pain around her right nipple, where her lesbian lover had bitten down into the skin of her breast, amounted to a mere fraction of the joyous agony which vibrated through her flesh.
Robert Jennings had finally exhausted the possibilities of Natalie's cunt - at least so far as his mouth and tongue were concerned. He had sucked, licked and sniffed at the slit until he knew every intimate detail of the girl's sex: and now he was raising her arse a little higher so that he could get at the tiny nutmeg of her anus.
Forcing her knees back until she was presenting the backs of her thighs to his face. Jennings dug his fingers firmly into the rich, supple flesh and yanked the cheeks sharply asunder. She groaned as the hot. stretching sensation sent a warning pain through her body, but made no attempt to tighten her arse muscles and prevent the assault. Jennings stuck out his tongue and put the tip of it against Natalie's anus. The tiny hole contracted instinctively, its rosy petals quivering and the surrounding skin wrinkling with indignation. He pressed his face nearer. The open slot of Natalie's cunt provided a snug, moist resting place for the man's nose - and he placed his nostrils just inside the lips; increasing the dabs of his tongue and working the muscle slowly but surely into the tight crevice of the shithole.
Her lovely thighs, smooth as alabaster and shivering with excitement, were stretched lewdly into the air above Jennings' head. They touched the sides of his face, cushioning his cheeks with a warm, trembling pressure as he licked in to the dank orifice of her bottom and pressed his mouth to the soft, hairless crease.
Natalie lay in a state of luxurious abandon, writhing up and down on the bed, feeling her body floating on a blissful cloud of euphoria; so passionately excited that the man and woman could stick needles into her flesh and she would feel only pleasure from the sensation!
Suzanne was plucking at her other nipple with her fingers, while her teeth continued to nibble and chew at the teat which had now been trapped between her lips for several minutes. Surely, there was no limit to the amount of ecstasy she could experience! Natalie's lust rose higher and higher, soaring to unlimited peaks of delight; her cunt jolted again and again into emitting a stream of hot milk - some of the come-fluid seeping into Jennings' nostrils and trickling down his lips and chin.
But there was a hungry ache inside the slit, a gnawing that couldn't be satisfied until the girl felt a stiff prick throbbing through her sex. She moaned in a deeper voice, writhing her loins up and down against her sucker's nose as if she might somehow succeed in getting it into her quim! Fortunately. Jennings had also reached the point of urgency. He gave one final lick to the inside of Natalie's arsehole, then withdrew his tongue. It was coated with a strong-tasting brown substance - a persistent, pungent shittiness which clove to the back of his throat and provided a constant reminder to Jennings that he had savored the most intimate region of the girl's inner body ...
Coming up onto his knees, the man lowered Natalie's legs into a separated position - her thighs thrust out on either side of his own legs - and moved Suzanne away from the girl's line of vision with a peremptory push of his hand.
"Look at it!" he ordered. "This is going into your cunt, you little bitch! You see it? You see how thick and red it is? In a moment you'll feel it fucking through your pussy, you damned whore!"
He held the juicy, massive shaft in his left hand, waving it threateningly to and fro. Natalie raised her head and stared at the cock for a moment, then fell back with a breathless, gasping cry of pleasure.
"Yes!" she begged. "Oh, yes, yes! Don't make me wait! Let me feel it now! Fuck me - fuck me! Oh, I can't stand it any longer - I've got to feel your prick inside me!!"
Jennings sprawled onto her body; clutching his red, horny meat around its middle, he pressed his belly into the girl's yielding stomach and leaned his full weight on her flesh. Natalie felt the thick sex-shaft throbbing against her crotch for a moment, and then it drew back a little - rubbing up and down the outer lips of her cunt until it found the waiting receptacle and pushed inwards - fucking with a swift, dynamic thrust to the hot depths and filling her itching quim-cavern with pulsing, virile power.
The probing drill of Jennings' prick plumbed Natalie's sex until it could penetrate no further. Its hilt pressed against the girl's plump, greatly stretched pussy-lips, the hair which grew around its base mingling with her pubic bush in a brief entanglement before it began to slide out of her wet pouch. As he brought his weapon backwards, feeling the cloying skin of Natalie's quim sticking to it and trying to hold it in place, Jennings cupped her breasts and squeezed them up into a pear-like shape: bending his head down so that he could examine the artwork of Suzanne's lipstick. But it was difficult to determine whether the rich crimson colour was attributable to the cosmetic or to the fierce biting of Suzanne's teeth! Both nipples were flaring in a deep carmine hue, and Jennings' eyes were so close to the teats that he could see clearly the little marks around them where the girl's sharp teeth had scored so insistently.
When he touched them, caressing his fingers back and forth over the ruby nips, they felt like hard, steel bullets: so thick and stiff that he could scarcely believe that they were formed of living skin-tissue.
Natalie was waiting anxiously for the return stroke of his knob, her hips tense and her body straining up against Jennings' - urging him to thrust the heavenly wand back into her cunt. Remembering how violently tinged with red lipstick her quim-lips had looked, Jennings felt an irrepressible urge to increase that unnatural scarlet tone by giving the slit a wild friction with his cock. He lunged forward again, fucking strongly into the girl's wet channel and pausing only for a moment before his knob drove back once more - wrenching aside the tender, fleshy membranes and ploughing with every ounce of his strength at the moist, defenseless crack.
His rhythm increased with each stroke, the urgent motion of Jennings' prick becoming a piledriving action that grew faster and faster; all his long pent-up celibacy exploding in one violent cataclysm, the ruthless stabbing of his penis acting as a much-needed safety valve for the man's disappointments and frustration ...
Now that he had already achieved one orgasm, however, Jennings was capable of continuing his fucking for a long time - feeling no urgency to spend his spunk in Natalie's cunt just yet. The girl realized this, too. She began to twist her buttocks around in a squirming, sensuous gyration: screwing the funnel of her quim and making its sticky interior fasten tightly about his turbulent shaft. The strong muscles of her cunt gripped at Jennings' penis, dragging it and making him apply his vigor in order to fuck the tool freely and swiftly in and out of Natalie's slot. Grinding exuberantly, their bodies were perspiring and reckless: Jennings fucking so wildly that his cock frequently slipped out of the girl's hole and jerked forward against her crotch - battering lustily at the hard pubis before it disappeared once more into its wet, palpitating sheath.
During the early stages of their performance, Suzanne had sat back indulgently; not wishing to spoil what was obviously an intensely exciting bout. But she grew impatient as their fucking went on and on ... seeing no opportunity for her to join their game, since the position of their bodies made it impossible for a third person to fondle or otherwise take part in the couple's frolicking.
Pensively, the girl watched as Natalie and Jennings threshed up and down beside her. She heard the liquid moans and the deeper, husky panting which came from Natalie's parted lips each time the prick entered her cunt. And Suzanne couldn't control her desire any longer ...
Shifting down alongside them, she pleaded urgently in Jennings' ear. overcoming her revulsion of the male physique and stroking his back - her fingers stealing into the crease of his shuddering arse and fondling persistently at the man's bumhole.
"Let her lie on top of you. Robert!" Suzanne begged. "Then I can at least feel her bottom while you fuck her! Do it for me, darling - I'll be so grateful!"
Although her voice reached his ears only faintly Jennings was moved by the desperate need in the lesbian's request. He clutched Natalie's waist and changed their positions with a careful heaving motion that kept his cock safely installed in the girl's quim. When she was lying face-down on her lover, Natalie brought her thighs tightly together - clenching them and trapping his prick so securely that Jennings couldn't budge it. The weapon remained immovable by the fierce pressure while Natalie smiled mockingly into his eyes and fastened one ankle behind the other. She squeezed her legs, sending a sharp spasm of compressed pleasure through the man's knob.
"Say 'please' and I'll let you fuck me again!" the girl whispered. "Or perhaps you like the way I'm holding your cock? Is it nice? Is it all squashed up and hurting you? Ahhh!" She smoothed the hair away from Jennings' brow. "Maybe I'll let your dicky free if you promise to be a good boy ... "
Jennings struggled vainly. Short of hitting her, he couldn't think how he might release his prick from Natalie's vigorously closed thighs. She was now rubbing them snugly together, the fleshy pillars clenching and unclenching in an unbearably stimulating fashion. Then ...
"Oww - that hurt!"
Natalie cried out with surprise more than pain. Taking advantage of the splendid pair of cheeks which were presented to her. Suzanne had delivered a stinging slap to their white mounds - making them vibrate and wobble as her palm left their surface.
Her hand returned once again to the pouting orbs. She spanked the girl in a firm but friendly manner, giving Natalie half-a-dozen strokes on her bottom and then rubbing the pink cheeks tenderly, her fingers straying all over them, fondling into the hot spheres and making the flesh roll sexily about.
During the 'punishment', Jennings had quickly freed his cock by thrusting his right knee between Natalie's thighs. He jammed her legs open again, forcing both limbs well apart so that he could now recommence his strenuous fucking of her soaking, spunk}- cunt. Although Natalie was on top of him, Jennings was able to twist her breasts into an outward position, enabling him to pinch and squeeze them while he screwed her; holding the juicy teats with his fingertips and forcing her titties to stretch widely away from one another. Natalie stopped trying to be the dominant member of the trio. She surrendered herself once more to the feeling of sweet vulnerability -imagining herself to be a helpless victim, a demure young innocent who was suffering untold horrors at the hands of her masterful seducers!
"Please don't spank me again!" she begged, deliberately assuming a wheedling, plaintive voice. "I promise to behave myself - I won't be naughty any more!"
Suzanne fell immediately into the required role of Natalie's stern, unyielding mistress.
"You haven't learned your lesson yet, my girl!" she insisted. "That bum of yours must have a few more spanks before I'm satisfied! Hold still!" Suzanne snapped as Natalie's body shuddered under the impact of Jennings' stiff, agitated fucking. "And keep your arse relaxed - I want to make sure that I hit soft flesh, not hard muscles!"
As her buttocks rose and fell in rhythm with the man's fiercely humping ramrod, Natalie felt the first of a series of slaps on her behind: blows that were keen enough to smart, but not inflicted with any degree of real brutality. She started to kiss Jennings' mouth, making their tongues join in an urgent twining, breathing with an irregular, gasping pant as she received the hard cock in her sex-slit ... its strong burrowing cutting like a knife through the tender wet meat.
When her hand grew tired of its exercise. Suzanne rested it for a few moments on the buttery-smooth surface of one arse-cheek; the mound continuing to jerk wildly up and down beneath her fingers. Then, deciding that if she was to be denied the orifice which she loved more than any other - namely, the girl's cunt - Suzanne settled for the next best thing. She pressed all her fingers into the warm, wriggling crease of Natalie's arse and searched for the anus ... that same little hole which had recently been well-licked by Robert Jennings' tongue. Feeling with her forefinger. Suzanne slowly probed into the forbidden entrance. She was aided by the violent motion of the girl's rump - Natalie rocking up and down now as if she was riding a crazed, out-of-control fairground carousel. Within seconds, Suzanne's finger was fully inserted. It fitted perfectly into the tiny anus, entering it like a finger sliding into a glove, and the lesbian started to wiggle her digit about; screwing it around and around as Natalie reacted to this dual stimulation by an even more frantic threshing of her body.
Each time she arched her buttocks, Natalie was impaled deeply on the stiff finger which Suzanne held vertically over her arsehole. And with every downward motion of her loins, the girl thrilled to the hard cock of Jennings' masculinity - hungrily entering her quim and driving again and again to its hilt.
For several long minutes they played their lewd game, until Suzanne herself inadvertently brought the affair to an early close. She was, of course, using her index finger to feel Natalie's anus, and it occurred to her that she might as well pass her thumb down the girl's loins and explore the hot little area between the arsehole and the cunt. But in doing this, she accidentally touched the stiff poker of Jennings' prick - her questing thumb roving up and down the fucking shaft and giving it an unexpected tickling!
This additional stimulus was too much for the man. He slammed his cock one final time into Natalie's quim and helplessly left it immersed in the steaming hole while the spunk spurted forth ...
Jennings babbled in fever, violently spending his sperm and working his belly up and down against Natalie's smooth, undulating flesh as the seed gushed out. He let go of the girl's titties and urgently thrust his hands down to her buttocks - clamping down on both cheeks and trapping Suzanne's hand between them, squashing the globes insanely together while the spasm seized his loins and the turmoil of his lust reached a wild pitch of excitement.
The thick juice racked his testicles and prick with blissful pain as it streamed out - and for one insane moment Jennings felt as if his cock was going to be wrenched from its socket with the intensity of his orgasm. There was a ruthless squeezing element in Natalie's cunt, a sucking that drew his knob deeper and deeper into the girl's womb; stretching it and draining all the strength from his body ...
He couldn't stop, though. He had to battle on to the very end: carried along by forces that were beyond his understanding. Jennings yielded to the urge which insisted that he fucked more strongly than ever into Natalie's sex, somehow finding the stamina to continue the intercourse until every last drop of spunk had been transmitted from his loins and poured into the wet, fleshy vessel ...
There was no transition period for Jennings. He passed from a state of intense sexual excitement into a stupefied slumber without returning to normal consciousness. Limp and exhausted, he felt the final twitchings of his cock, dimly realized that a few remaining drops of sperm were trickling from his waning prick-head, and then sank blindly into a sated oblivion.
He wasn't even aware that Natalie was continuing to ride on his still-horny weapon; grinding her own sex to a wanking climax on the motionless, deep-breathing body which had served her so well. Fortunately for the girl, Jennings' tool retained its potency for several minutes after the man's orgasm. It held an upright position, receiving the urgent downward movements of her cunt until she, too, reached the terminus of her desire and could cream no more ...
Trembling, their bodies subsided slowly into a quiet and relaxed state, Jennings' tired blue eyes filmed over and at peace. Even the insatiable Natalie had exhausted her lust; the painful tenderness in her quim warning her against further sexual games, at least for the next few hours! Strangely enough, however, Mrs. Stafford wasn't in the least sleepy. She felt a deep physical weariness, but her mental faculties were sharp and alert.
Rising carefully from Robert Jennings and gently disengaging his prick, she slid off the bed and stretched herself, feeling the warm trickles of spunk oozing out of her sex and running quickly down the slopes of her thighs. Natalie would have enjoyed another bath, but the thought of confronting Marius again dissuaded her from the notion. She planned to keep a safe distance from the man, recalling with a shudder the evil expression on his face and the sadistic intention in his gloating eyes just before Jennings so fortuitously interrupted them ...
No, a bath was out of the question. She would wait until Jennings had recuperated and then ask him to stand guard while she refreshed her aching, sex-smelling body. It was a pity that the rooms were so unkempt and sordid, Natalie thought idly. Until now. she had been too preoccupied with her succession of sexual games to pay attention to her surroundings. She smiled. It occurred to her that she didn't even know where the cottage was situated! No matter, really: this added to the mysteriousness of her adventure - and perhaps, after all, the cottage had a certain romantic appeal ...
Natalie glanced back at Jennings. He was snoring lightly, looking less haggard and much younger than before; the intense, concentrated fanaticism had left his face, giving him a boyish, youthful innocence. And she felt a strange, incomprehensible attraction for him - not merely an aftermath of affection for the beautiful fuck he had just given her. but an emotional sensation. Natalie checked herself. This was stupid! The man was half-crazy - a kidnapper who lived only for his twisted ideals! He didn't deserve her respect or her love. It would be foolish to let her feelings over-ride the urgent necessity to somehow escape from the clutches of these people ... and with this thought uppermost in her mind, Natalie fixed her attention once more upon Suzanne Belmondo ...
CHAPTER EIGHT
"You could do it so easily - no one would ever know that you let me escape!"
Natalie held Suzanne's hand tightly, staring up into the girl's face. "And I'd never tell my husband or the police that you were involved", she promised. I'd even keep quiet about Jennings and the others if that's what you want. Oh, please, darling - let me walk out of the door, that's all I'm asking! That horrid man Quayle is locked in the bathroom, Jennings probably won't wake up for an hour or two ... "
Suzanne shook her head regretfully. "He would know", she told Natalie quietly. "Don't you see? If Jennings found that you'd escaped while he was asleep - while I was supposed to be guarding you - the first thing he would suspect is that we'd planned it! I'm sorry. I really couldn't take that chance. He's already very angry with Marius; this was supposed to be a civilized, object lesson in kidnapping. No violence was to be used, no harm was going to be done to you. And now the exact opposite has happened: we've all acted like a bunch of sex-starved adolescents, and Jennings has degenerated with the rest of us!
"Even now. when he's recovered from the whisky and the orgy, he'll probably be furious. With himself as well as me! You don't really know him", Suzanne whispered. "He's a very strange young man ... "
Natalie realized that it was quite useless to argue with Suzanne. For one reason or another, the girl wasn't going to help her. Her thoughts shifted to the fourth member of the gang - George Burke. She had scarcely seen him since her arrival at the cottage. Maybe he could be persuaded to turn a blind eye while she made her escape.
At any rate, Natalie saw that she had nothing to lose by the exploring this final avenue of hope ...
After a decent pause - long enough, Natalie trusted, for Suzanne to think that she had now abandoned her plea for freedom - she remarked:
"You said just now that Jennings was strange. But what about George? He strikes me as being really weird! Why, he's locked himself in the other bedroom all day -what on earth is he doing in there? And I remember Marius saying something about 'his new toy'. What's the matter with him - is he mentally retarded?"
Suzanne smiled. She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and curled up as comfortably as possible in the worn but spacious armchair; fighting to keep awake, but feeling the mists of sleep clouding irresistibly around her mind.
"George is all right", she murmured drowsily. "He's very shy ... Probably still a virgin ... But he's harmless ... he wouldn't hurt a fly ... "
Her voice whispered away to silence and Suzanne's eyes closed. Her breathing settled into a quiet rhythm, and in a few moments the girl was sound asleep. Natalie waited cautiously, making sure that there was no sign of restlessness; and then she tiptoed silently, barefoot and naked, to the front door. It was a forlorn hope. The door was securely locked, and Natalie knew that if she searched for the key she would be bound to disturb either Jennings or Suzanne with her movements about the room. She realized that it would be easy to smash a window and possibly get out of the cottage - but her recapture was practically assured, and Natalie wanted to lull the suspicions of her kidnappers; lead them to think that she was resigned to her fate and that she didn't intend to make a bid for freedom. If she could successfully put them off their guard, then surprise would be on her side if and when a perfect opportunity came along ...
She crossed the room as quietly as possible and tried the handle of the second bedroom. To her amazement, the door swung open. It wasn't locked after all: Natalie slipped soundlessly into the room, her curiosity whettened by the odd behavior of George Burke. But the sight which met her eyes was even stranger than Natalie had guessed. She rubbed her eyes, uncertain whether she was dreaming or awake ...
There was another girl in the room with George! A girl whose body and features were identical with Jackie Kennedy - the late President's wife!
It was, of course, a model: a life-sized shop window dummy, but so amazingly real and perfect in every detail that - until you went up close to the figure - it seemed like a breathing, living woman ...
Fascinated, Natalie forgot her fear and approached the rumpled bed where George Burke lay, his nude body entwined with the doll. He was sleeping, cuddled against his artificial girl with a blissful smile wreathed on his lips; one of his hands on her buttocks, the other resting around her shoulders. Natalie studied them intently, leaning over the bed. The model was a perfect female replica. It was obviously fashioned from a soft, flesh-like rubber - but the material looked like real skin, the colouring a creamy texture, the breasts - though on the small side -exquisitely moulded, their nipples erect and red. Daringly, Natalie reached out and touched the "girl" on her shoulder. The pressure of her finger made the rubber substance sink slightly inwards, and Natalie was surprised to find that is was warm: presumably from the cuddling given to it by the weird George ...
So this was his "new toy"! Natalie giggled softly to herself. Rather than face the challenge of a real, live woman, George had settled for a doll substitute: a female who couldn't answer back, who was unable to reject his advances, who didn't betray by a look or a word that she was unhappy or dissatisfied!
All at once, Natalie felt a sad pity for the young man. He was tragically depriving himself of the warmth of human relationships - probably through some flaw in his personality, a result, possibly, of his acute stammer ... She put her hand on his forehead, stroking tenderly across his temple, moved by an impulse of affection and compassion.
George opened his eyes!
He jerked away from Natalie as if her hand was charged with electricity, horror and shock on his face.
"What - what d-do you want?" he stuttered. "You, you aren't sup-supposed to be h-here ... "
Words failed him, drying in his throat like a choked-up stream. Moments passed. Natalie no longer felt afraid of George, seeing that, he was as harmless as Suzanne had suggested. She sat on the bed, her thigh resting against the dummy's rounded hip - feeling the silk of the nylon panties on the model rustling sexily on her bare flesh. Gently and coaxingly. Natalie began to talk to George. She calmed him down, soothing him with a flow of reassuring conversation that slowly relaxed the man; showing a genuine interest in his "toy" and breaking down the self-conscious reserve which was George's hallmark.
His initial reaction was to be ashamed and embarrassed at being surprised with his unreal girlfriend, expecting to be mocked and ridiculed. When he saw that Natalie understood his bizarre compulsion, however, George displayed a certain amount of pride in the craftsmanship which had gone into the construction of the doll. He explained - not stammering quite so much now - that he had bought it from a mail-order company in America; that it came complete with a set of underwear and a change of dress; that the limbs and head were fully adjustable to any position - in fact, that "Jackie" could do practically anything but breathe, walk and talk!
"But surely she didn't arrive like this?" Natalie exclaimed. "Why. she's almost as big as me - you could never parcel her up!" (Like George himself, she had stopped referring to Jackie as "it". Somehow, it was difficult to call the doll an object when it looked so human and life-like).
"She deflates!" George told her. "You - you have to blow her up. Marius made so many cruel jokes about her that I - I wasn't going to show her to anyone else. But you're different ... Go on, examine her if you like", he offered. "She really is a work of art, isn't she?"
Natalie was very intrigued. Carefully, she began to move Jackie's limbs, passing her hands over the doll's body and noting with a vague excitement that the breasts were quite pliable - moving realistically as she cupped them with her palm. Jackie had her panties on, a pair of midnight blue briefs that were trimmed with lace and cut away, bikini-style, to expose as much of the belly and abdomen as possible. But apart from this tiny garment, she was as naked as George and Natalie herself.
"I suppose there's nothing below the panties", Natalie asked. "That's where the realism ends, isn't it? She stops being a real girl once you take off her knickers ... "
George was blushing furiously. "Well", he said cautiously. "Actually - actually she doesn't! Jackie is a real girl, all the way down! She's very sp-special, you see. Every detail is there -"
"Oh?" Natalie began to unpeel the panties. "Let me see! This is very interesting ... "
"Please don't!" George begged. He looked terribly flustered, trying to stop Natalie from seeing the secrets of his unusual doll but reaching out too late. The girl had already tugged the briefs down to Jackie's thighs and was exclaiming with delight at the discovery she had made.
Her fingers fastened on the curved rubber at the doll's crotch. There, so skillfully constructed that it could be mistaken for the real thing, was a small bush of pubic hair - partially concealing the deep red vent (complete with sexy-looking and well-puffed lips) of Jackie's "cunt". Even the clitoris had been included; and the hole itself was made from a specially soft rubber that imitated as closely as possible the sleek, exciting flesh of a real quim.
"She's terrific!" Natalie said with admiration. "And the bottom? Does she have a little bumhole, too?"
Without waiting for George's answer, she turned the doll face downward on the bed and thrust her forefinger between the buttocks. It came into contact with a smaller version of the cunt orifice - a tiny, tight slot which stretched elastically under her probing digit. Natalie was. able to insert the finger fully to the hilt, and the illusion that Jackie was a flesh-and-blood creature rather unnerved her. Shamefaced, she withdrew the inquisitive member and allowed the springy cheeks of the arse to close again.
"Incredible", Natalie breathed. "Oh, George - may I watch while you fuck her? Don't be shy or angry! I know that's what you do with her! Please?"
But it was several minutes before George agreed to make love to the model in Natalie's presence. She had to cajole him, swear that she would never tell anyone his secret, promise that she wouldn't laugh or mock him ... And when she had finally succeeded in persuading the odd young man to demonstrate his kinky blow-up doll to her, Natalie slipped back to the door and locked it; making sure that Suzanne and Jennings couldn't interrupt the scene.
For all his shyness and hesitation, George Burke had secretly longed to chare the thrills he received with his rubber Jackie. Merely watching Natalie as she examined the dummy in intimate detail had caused his prick to swell and its skin to feel itchy. Modestly, he had covered the rising shaft with his hand - but now, as the girl returned to the bedside and stood expectantly from his loins and revealed the horny strength of his cock to Natalie: even daring to pose a moment for her before rolling on his side towards Jackie and carefully embracing the doll.
Natalie gazed down with genuine interest to see how George would make love to the rubber-girl. He was beginning to caress her breasts, fondling with his hands as if they were real, fleshy titties, and his mouth brushed for a second or two at her smiling, red-tinted lips before closing tightly on them and kissing Jackie with a mounting passion.
Tenderly, with all the care a normal man would use on a true woman, George caressed the nipples and slid his hand down the front of her body - pausing at the belly to rub with especial firmness around the doll's abdomen before continuing the passage of his fingers to her loins. He was still lying in a sideways position, enabling Natalie to see the steadily increasing pulse of his prick: and the penis attained its full erection as George stroked his forefinger gently into Jackie's cunt and commenced a firm frigging action inside the rubber slit.
It was hard to believe that Jackie wasn't real. She was motionless, of course, and yet there seemed to be a response in the inanimate body - an almost tangible but obviously deceptive yearning in that lifeless figure; as if Jackie was actually enjoying the rhythmical tickling of her cold, juiceless sex!
Despite her recent sexual exhaustion, Natalie could feel her senses being sharply aroused by the spectacle before her. She curled the fingers of her right hand around her own cunt and pressed them down into the hard mons veneris. Little by little her forefinger began to penetrate the lips; unfolding them and sliding into the sticky morass of flesh and muscle - wiggling about inside the hole, increasing her excitement with a firm, expert stimulation ...
George was barely conscious of Natalie's presence now. He had moved into his familiar, private ecstasy and the sole charge of his concentration was focused upon Jackie. Slipping his finger out of the dummy's "cunt", he climbed on top of her - covering the model's body from face to feet - and opened her thighs so that her cunningly devised slit could accommodate his cock.
Kissing more and more strongly at her mouth, George worked his prick into the unresisting orifice and began to fuck. He rode up down on the immobile figure, the white globes of his buttocks rising and falling in a tense, grinding action; pushing his cock in and out as the hot fantasies took over his mind and he fell under the domination of his wayward sex impulses.
Natalie, now that she could no longer see the imitation girl, felt rather frustrated. She wasn't particularly interested in watching George's bizarre form of masturbation, but the action of her own finger as it scrabbled through the increasing moistness of her cunt had already stirred her to a hungry desire. Squeezing her thighs together, she made the base of her finger rub tightly on her clitoris: hoping to bring herself to a quick climax and end this disappointing game. After all, she told herself crossly, I'm a warm, hot-blooded real girl - he must be mad to prefer a waxwork to me!
In fact, so far as Natalie was concerned, the novelty of watching George as he fucked his doll had subsided. She pouted unhappily. Then a pleasant thought occurred to her. If she really applied herself to the task, she might succeed in channeling the man's sexual tastes in a more positive direction! Also, he would be far more likely to help her in her bid to escape if she showed him that live women could prove as exciting as dummies ...
Natalie eased her finger out of its tight target and softly climbed up onto the bed alongside George, a wicked, wanton expression in her eyes. She stretched out on the narrow mattress, put her hand on the man's buttocks and made her presence known to the straining, urgently fucking George by pushing firmly into his vigorously thrusting arse.
"My pussy is much nicer!" Natalie urged him, using-the sexiest voice she could summon. "It's wet and sticky, and S0 hot", she promised him. "Why don't you try it, darling? Change over and stick your lovely cock in me! It can't hurt you ... and if you don't like it after all, you can easily go back to Jackie, can't you?"
She continued in this provocative, seductive vein for several minutes; all the time caressing his bottom and rubbing her thigh against his leg. And when Natalie was beginning to think that she had failed, that George was going to ignore her entreaties and shoot his spunk into that stupid model - he suddenly brought his prick out of the manufactured slit and rolled from Jackie's rubber body onto Natalie's hot, living flesh!
The movement was so swift and the introduction of his thick sex into her cunt was made so violently that Natalie had to stifle a cry of pain. She sucked hard at her lower lip as the large engine fucked upwards -lunging with a tremendously brutal force through the tender, puffy flesh of her vagina and retreating almost at once: only to drive harder than ever back into her womb!
"Ohhh!" Natalie had only sufficient time for this sharp exclamation before her mouth was stopped by George's lips. He sucked furiously at the wet portal, sticking his tongue directly between her teeth without any further ceremony - whipping it around and around inside the juicy orifice as his cock rammed in a similarly agitated fashion in and out of her quim.
From the way he was fucking her, Natalie guessed that she was the very first woman he had ever penetrated. All of George's previous experience had obviously been with dolls like Jackie; he possessed a hunger and a passion that betrayed his lack of technique; his wild, thirsty desire knowing no subtlety as he rode his red charger backwards and forwards ...
Her pussy quickly grew inflamed under the assault, and Natalie found herself half-wishing that she hadn't been so insistent that George should fuck her! But it was too late for regrets now. The fiery, pounding shaft kept thrusting into her slit, throbbing more vibrantly at each stroke. His mouth was bruising her lips - rubbing against them with a relentless pressure, clearly seeking his own selfish pleasure and treating Natalie as if she were nothing but a deluxe version of Jackie!
The frenzy of his lust was too intense to last for long. When Natalie started to return the thrusts of his lips, lifting her buttocks up and grinding with him in a lascivious jolting of their crotches, George grabbed at her breasts and sank his thick fingers into their snowy mounds - at the same time increasing the powerful fucks of his prick and sobbing in a heartbroken voice against the girl's mouth ...
A few seconds later, the flood erupted. Natalie held herself ready for the spunk: waiting to feel that familiar washing sensation in her vagina, that hot and spurting stream which always exacted a sticky flow of her own come.
The knob inside her quim gave a wild palpitation. It shuddered as if the thick sperm was thundering so richly through its length that the rigid flesh could scarcely withstand the violent motion. And then the steaming lava shot potently upwards - gushing along the stretched slit of Natalie's cunt. She jerked her thighs spastically under the outpouring, taking this wet and potent cream with a joy that expressed itself in heartfelt excitement: rising up to meet the climax and squirming her soaking loins around the penetrating, spunking shaft.
Hot stickiness pervaded every inch of George's sex as Natalie added her own love-syrup to his spurting juice. Their passion knew no bounds, pure animal lust driving them on as the man's orgasm wracked his body and sent him soaring up into a white, incandescent nirvana ...
Natalie's outflung arm - beating senselessly down on the bed during her ecstasy - was smashing unconsciously into the mute, vacantly smiling face of "Jackie"; causing no pain, but unwittingly releasing the well-hidden valve which kept the dummy inflated. Slowly, as George and Natalie fucked to the extreme heights of their climax, the doll began to grow smaller. A faint hissing sound emerged from it as the air escaped, and by the time that the couple had finished spending, Jackie was a sad, abbreviated version of her former glory - a limp, shapeless balloon that no longer bore a resemblance to a living female.
But Nathalie was given no opportunity to utilize the debt which George Burke owed her. Long before their bodies had cooled and their senses had stopped spiraling, there came a deafening explosion at the locked door. It burst open, the strong smell of cordite filling the room, and Marius Quayle - fully dressed and with a smoking revolver in his hand - was striding into the bedroom!
CHAPTER NINE
"The only reason why I'm not going to kill you is that I admire a man with guts! Besides, there's no possible way for you to upset my plans, Jennings - you're involved in this too deeply to risk incriminating yourself with the authorities."
Natalie and George had been shepherded into the first bedroom by Quayle, who had evidently broken out of the bathroom, seized his gun while Jennings was still asleep and taken command. In terse, staccato sentences, he had informed them of his scheme. Natalie was to be taken away and placed under his charge; the terms of the ransom would be changed - money would now be demanded from Gerald Stafford for his wife's safe return -and Jennings and Suzanne were to fade quietly into the background. Providing they made no attempt to thwart his plans, they wouldn't be harmed ...
Quayle had reasserted his authority over George Burke with ease. Despite Natalie's seduction, the backward young man was still under Ouayle's domination: and he appeared to accept without question his role as an inferior with his allegiance firmly at Quayle's service. Marius had already explained to George how Natalie had planned to trick him; and the vacant look had returned to George's eyes as he stared at the girl, his brief ecstasy with her now forgotten.
"I hadn't intended to act just yet", Marius smiled grimly. He kept the revolver aimed steadily at Jennings' stomach. "You were the one who forced my hand, Mrs. Stafford. I couldn't allow you to make a fool of me and sit here for nearly a week while you grinned at me in that smug, self-satisfied way! But we're wasting time ... I have some interesting ideas to while away the hours before Saturday night. Ideas that will amuse you, George, as much as me ...
"Come on!" He motioned impatiently, and Burke seized Natalie's arms and pinned them behind her back. She was frog-marched to the front door, Marius backing slowly away from the furious Jennings and the terrified Suzanne; pausing only to snatch up one of the carrier bags containing the girl's unused clothing before he moved with George and their hostage through the open doorway.
Suzanne heard the sound of the bolt being drawn back, locking them inside the cottage. She turned wildly to Jennings.
"Do something," she screamed. "How can you just stand there? Those maniacs will probably kill that poor girl ... "
But Robert Jennings stood apathetically in the centre of the room, no longer caring one way or the other if Natalie was murdered. The matter had passed out of his hands now. He couldn't overpower Marius and George single handedly, even if he wanted to. And he could see, for the first time, just how preposterous and foolish his original plan had been. You couldn't wage war on a powerful newspaper proprietor - not alone, not by a one-man guerilla sabotage. The purpose in his life seemed to fade like a dwindling light; leaving him listless and dejected. Jennings ignored the pounding of Suzanne's hands on his chest. He scarcely felt anything now - least of all the ineffectual blows as the girl tried to rouse him to action ...
George was driving Jennings' car. Marius sat in the back seat with Natalie. But before they reached the end of the bumpy, narrow lane and joined the main road, he raised the flat of his hand without warning and hit the girl neatly across the back of her neck.
Natalie slumped sideways, stunned instantly into unconsciousness by the karate chop: only a fierce, raging pain remaining in her mind for a few seconds before she sank into oblivion.
"Sorry about that, Mrs. Stafford!" Marius smiled sadistically. "But it wouldn't do for you to know where we're going, now would it?" To George, while he arranged Natalie's body on the floor of the car between the seats - making sure that it was concealed from any stray passer-by, he said: "Drive to my apartment in Victoria. We should reach London just as it's getting dark ... with a bit of luck we'll get her into the house without anyone seeing us!"
George nodded. He turned the car right at the crossroads and they picked up speed along the A.10 - traveling quickly away from the only people who were in a position to save Natalie from certain death ...
Quayle's temporary home was a two-room apartment in the seedy area of Victoria; a road behind the main line railway terminus which was long overdue for demolition and rebuilding. It was 8.30 on Monday evening when the car drew up outside the dark, 100-year-old house: a wet, intermittently rainy evening with a chill March wind to drive the shower into their faces as they marched Natalie up the creaking, uncarpeted stairs and into a small but high-ceilinged room.
She had only partly recovered from the brutal blow which Marius had given her in the car, her head ringing with dull pain and her mind unable to summon up any resistance to the men as they bundled her onto a bed and roughly drew the covers over her nude body.
"You'd better get some sleep", Marius told her. "At the moment, you're not in any fit state to know what we're doing to you - and I want you to be aware of everything! All the other tenants in the house will be at work by nine. We'll have the place to ourselves! I'm sure you'll be pleased about that, won't you?"
Too cold and exhausted to fight back, Natalie obeyed the dictates of her own senses and curled up into a tight ball under the bed clothes. She was soon sound asleep; but it was a sleep disturbed by frightful dreams, and she woke several times during the night - terror-stricken and perspiring, her heart pounding and her teeth chattering with fear ...
When morning finally came, Natalie was taken to the bathroom by Marius and told to lie in the hottest water she could stand for a quarter of an hour. He made no attempt to touch her. Waiting patiently while the girl eased her tired body in the reviving bath, Marius knew from recent, all-too-painful experience, that his previous intimacy with Natalie had resulted in humiliation for him rather than her! He intended to make quite sure that Natalie was in no position to turn the tables on him again.
Returning her to the bedroom, her body - naked beneath a large bath towel - steaming and tingling with a healthy pinkness, Marius gave the girl no chance to reason with him or make a break for freedom. He pulled her wrists tightly together behind her back and bound them swiftly with a length of white cord which he had left out for this very purpose. The towel dropped away from Natalie. She winced as the very secure knots bit into the slender skin, then jerked her head wildly from side to side as Marius cruelly gagged her mouth with a wide strip of adhesive tape. It almost stretched to her nostrils, making her breathing grow labored; throwing her into a sudden panic as she realized that she was to be rendered utterly, vulnerably helpless ...
Kicking out with her bare feet was useless. Marius laughed at the few blows which she managed to land on his shins, deflecting most of them and hardly noticing the others.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad to see that you haven't lost your spirit! I like a girl who fights back - it makes the game more interesting!"
Then, violently, he pitched Natalie down on her back, sending her sprawling and bouncing on the bed. It had been stripped of its blankets and sheets, only the mattress remaining; and its hard studs pressed into her naked back and thighs as she hit its surface - her legs opening and exposing the tuft of blonde hair at her crotch.
But Marius wasn't quite satisfied yet. Producing two smaller lengths of cord, he seized Natalie's right ankle and bound it to the lower bed-post; then treated the other limb in the same fashion: staking her out so that the girl's legs were firmly spreadeagled, her lovely white thighs - so full and firm-fleshed - shuddering with terror as they strained against the ropes.
"You make a very pretty parcel!" Marius remarked.
He watched her threshing about for a few moments, and then glanced at George. Burke was standing at his side, a perplexed expression on his face; listening to Natalie's muffled cries and seeing the girl's frantic contortions as if he didn't understand, even now, what Marius was going to do with her.
"Take a seat, George", Marius invited him. "You will be amused by this. I think! However, she does look rather too exposed at the moment, doesn't she? Perhaps we can find something to cover her modesty in here ... "
He felt in the carrier bag and brought out a thin rayon chemise: a very short slip that had see-through brassiere cups and a transparent texture that would conceal very few of the girl's charms. Slipping one arm beneath Natalie's shoulders, Marius raised her and forced the chemise over her head. He pulled it down over her breasts and tugged its hem until the end of the garment just covered Natalie's crotch. She glared up at him, her eyes wide with fear and loathing.
Marius let her head drop back onto the mattress and thoughtfully began to unbutton his shirt. He took his time undressing slowly and methodically, then - when all his clothes were removed - he sat on the edge of the bed beside Natalie.
"Let me see now ... No, this really won't do at all! Do you realize that you're still showing your cunt to us, my dear? Tsk, tsk!" Marius shook his head in mock reproach. "And I thought you were such a proper, well-mannered little girl! Here - your slip should be tugged down more carefully - like this ... "
He leaned forward and took the filmy hem in his fingers. Sharply, stretching the material tautly across Natalie's breasts. Marius extended it so that the thin rayon fitted snugly over her crotch. The ripe little mound of the girl's pubis thrust firmly through the slip: and when Marius reached under her buttocks with his free hand - transferring his grip on the hem and drawing it even more snugly beneath Natalie's loins - the swollen lips of her quim protruded even more blatantly. They seemed to squirm of their own volition under the constraint of the chemise, moving from side to side and pulsing with a life of their own.
In reality, of course, it was Marius's fingers which were causing the motion. He was firmly twitching the hem of the undergarment, tugging it about and bringing it gradually into the deep, voluptuous crease of the girl's arse. His hand was squashed under the globes, and although Natalie was fighting to keep her cheeks closed they were slowly being forced apart by the man's grinding knuckles.
Soon, Marius had succeeded in getting the thicker material of the hem right up against Natalie's anus. He tickled the hot little hole with the edge of the slip - rubbing it around and around the damp but fresh-smelling shit-place; while his eyes fastened unblinkingly on her fiercely straining slit. The skin around Natalie's sex was tinged dark red as the blood was forced to remain there by the tourniquet of the rayon. Its twin creases - which met at the junction of her cunt to form a wide and pronounced vee - were suddenly touched by Marius's left forefinger! The digit descended on first one and then the other: stroking down from their faint beginnings on the girl's belly to the place where they disappeared under the tight cut of the narrowed chemise.
Natalie nearly swooned from this agonizing torment! It was unbearable! The soft tickling was far worse than any violence - and she wriggled vainly in her attempts to escape the persistent, gently fondling finger ...
Marius naturally gloated over his discovery.
"So ... " he mused aloud. "You don't like to be tickled just there? Well, that is interesting!"
Abruptly, his fingers released the slip's hem and allowed it to snap out from beneath Natalie's crotch. The undergarment now rested just above the girl's pubis, forming a useless adornment to her body rather than an adequate protection. Its position left the pubic hair uncovered, the swelling vee of her loins naked - and the pink mouth of her cunt wetly visible.
Marius savoured his target area for a moment, then began to torment the girl. His light fingers crept over Natalie's calves and knees. They moved over onto the inside of her thighs, examining every inch of the beautiful flesh - at times scarcely touching the skin - until, after many long moments, he brought his fingertips to the painful-looking ridge with its deep wound gashed vertically down its centre.
Carefully, Marius combed through the blonde bush until the fine strands parted and allowed his fingers to caress the flesh from which they grew. He swung his thighs over Natalie's right leg before proceeding any further: relieving the fierce pulsing of his prick by rubbing it rapidly up and down on the girl's rounded limb, crouching over her with his knees bent and his body hunched up. Then, gleefully resuming his work, Marius fondled at the slightly parted lobes of her quim. He could feel the lips quivering with alarm at the prickling, tickling-sensation which they were reviving ... and the girl herself was vainly endeavoring to struggle up into a sitting position and somehow ward off his unbearable caresses.
However, the bonds around her wrists made it impossible for Natalie to do more than writhe in anguish and arch her body helplessly from the waist. For the first time in her life she knew what it must feel like to be the victim of a terrible torturer; to lie in bondage while he performed the most skilful torments his evil mind could devise ...
In some ways, her own position was even worse, though. Had Marius fondled her with slightly firmer touches of his fingers - if he wasn't rubbing so horribly softly at her cunt - Natalie would have felt a keen pleasure, despite the fact that she hated him. But he seemed to know the exact pressure to apply: just hard enough for her to feel the steady movement of his finger on the tender red ridges of her pussy, just gently enough to cause her an exquisite amount of suffering.
All the same, Marius didn't want to drive Natalie into total hysteria. He relented when the girl was screaming silently against the tight, sticky adhesive tape and gave her cunt an unexpected but gratifying frig: sinking two of his fingers deeply into the slit and working them about for a moment or two.
To his surprise. the over-stimulated pussy almost immediately spewed forth a wet spurting fluid!
The love-juice flowed richly down from Natalie's womb, and the girl's buttocks gave a tremendous surge - pumping vigorously on and off the mattress - as she fucked out her delayed climax ...
Annoyed that she should receive pleasure, however minimal, Marius proceeded to tickle her nipples through the chemise cups; scratching at them with his fingernails until the teats grew amazingly stiff and thrust their new ripeness against the close-fitting rayon slip. Since the bra-cups were designed to be worn over a proper brassiere, they were extremely flimsy - and when Marius had sucked each of Natalie's nipples in turn, the buds glowed out so redly and prominently that a casual observer would have assumed that the girl's titties were naked!
He had licked and sucked at the teats simply to speed their erection. Marius brought his mouth away directly the nipples reached their maximum size, and his purpose now was to climb upon Natalie's chest and rub his prick into the rosy protuberances!
Natalie could do nothing to dislodge or dissuade him. The relentless man perched himself - legs wide open and knees pressing into the side of her body - and held his cock while it jerked backwards and forwards: the thick crest stabbing again and again into her teats, making her breasts wobble and quiver alarmingly.
And when he had satisfied this impulse, Marius guided his penis to other parts of the girl's body ... placing it experimentally on Natalie's neck, on her cheek (taking good care to stop her from hitting at it with her head) and ... finally ... forcing her face to one side while he probed the helmet into the outer lobe of her ear! This humiliation was both frightening and degrading to the girl. She felt the hot arrowhead - its flesh smooth but its muscles straining under its erection - cramming forward against the tiny, pearl-shaped orifice, and for a dreadful moment she feared that Marius intended to shoot his spunk deafeningly into the small hole!
Fortunately, this didn't occur to the man. Instead, he hit upon one last indignity to heap upon the prostrate, bound and gagged girl. Somehow, it wasn't satisfying enough to fuck her cunt: he wanted a different slot for his prick to ram this time. And what could be better than her dainty little arsehole?
It was the work of a few seconds to unfasten Natalie's ankles and turn her face downward on the bed. Greatly weakened by her ordeal, the girl could only offer fitful, unsuccessful struggles as Marius re-tied the cord around her feet and ran his hands gloatingly up the backs of her thighs to her buttocks. Natalie tried in vain to clench the cheeks and prevent him from his lewd examination of her anus. Fitting his fingers neatly into the plump division, Marius wrenched the globes open. He put his nose against the hollow and sniffed loudly, knowing that Natalie must be suffering intense pangs of mortification as she felt his nostrils inhaling her most intimate musk.
Still keeping the arse in a state of exposure, he slipped three of his fingers further down the girl's loins, moving them around the curve of her crotch and rubbing them quickly in the messy slime which continued to seep out of her cunt. Returning these spunk-anointed fingers to Natalie's anus, he smeared as much of the quim-juice as possible into the tiny slot - lubricating it in readiness for his prick ...
And now, his lust standing his cock out like a randy stallion. Marius mounted the girl from the rear. He noted with amusement that Natalie was now trying to protect her anal virginity with her bound hands - striving to ward off his attack by keeping them pressed tightly against her luscious bottom! Contemptuously, Marius thrust them upwards, out of the way. He began the assault: comfortably holding her wriggling arse-cheeks still by the weight of his stomach, he drove his prick between them and positioned it at the right angle for penetration. His shaft was bent slightly forward, the tip of its wand burrowing mole-like into the gaping mounds of Natalie's arse, and he found the first few inches of its fucking to be quite easily accomplished. The oily fat which the girl had dripped from her cunt had made the anus moist and pliable; it could be stretched relatively wide without too much straining on Marius's part - but when his cock sank deeper into the hole a tight pressure surrounded it, gripping the staff and clamping it as if it had been thrust into a vice.
It didn't matter. This was a labour which Marius relished! He set his teeth and listened to the muted curses and pleas which Natalie was making. Then, a surging power flaring in his mind, Marius fucked with a single, relentless stroke into the girl's bowels!
He felt pain, too, at the enormous constriction around his prick; but is was nothing compared to the intense agony which racked Natalie's body. She felt a white-hot iron searing into her anus - burning the flesh and scorching the entrance until it seemed to widen forcibly and stretch to an impossible degree.
Although this was so obviously the girl's first arse-fuck, Marius gave her no time to adjust to the awesome sensation. He pulled his cock backwards until it was three-quarters out of her shithole, then rammed forward again. The slot felt wetter this time, but he didn't stop to consider why. Out dragged his knob once more - and back it fucked ... the rhythm mounting steadily, his belly meeting Natalie's bum-cheeks and squashing into them for a second or two before withdrawing ...
Harder and harder he rode the helpless, hapless girl. Her thighs were shuddering against the bonds which held her legs immovable; her shoulders quivering under the weight of Marius's chest as he pressed down on them, panting and snarling - spitting out obscenities while his massive prick sank again and again into the messy, shit-and-spunk soaked hole ...
The lightning had already struck - bolts of electricity flaring up inside Natalie's anus as it received the horny shaft - but the storm was yet to come.
"Soon - very soon!" Marius promised her. gasping out his threat. "You'll get it, don't worry! It's going to let go in just a minute - and, by Christ, it'll burn you! Your little arse is going to feel the wettest spunk you've ever known!"
Perhaps his own words drove Marius to ejaculation. He ploughed her bum for a swift dozen strokes, like a hoe which had gone insane - churning into the wet, muddy earth with manic intensity - and then discharged ... emitting a long, thick spray of sperm which gushed deeply up the shit vent and rinsed hotly into Natalie's bowels.
No use her screaming against the tape now! She was arse-fucked, and nothing in the world could alter the fact! Natalie could feel the spunk eddying around the interior of her anus, like a deep, salty river that had burst its banks. Every bead of the sperm was repulsive to her; every movement it made as it trickled slowly backwards and out of her arse filled her with disgust. But she could see no way to escape from Marius and George. They wouldn't let her out of their sight now for a single instant: and there would be no hope of seducing them or appealing to them ...
For the first time since she had been kidnapped, Natalie began to cry ...
The next few days passed in a permanent nightmare for the girl. She lost all sense of time, the days and nights merging into one another as she was roused from a fitful sleep to serve either Marius or his faithful, silent henchman. They practiced so many variations of the sex act upon her that the girl's body was in a constant state of exhaustion and stimulation: her wrists and her ankles bearing permanent red weals where the cord cut into them and her genitalia inflamed and raw from the number of entrances it had received.
The ordeal seemed like an eternal torment. And when Marius shook her roughly by the shoulders and ordered her to swallow "these pep pills", Natalie tossed them down her throat without hesitation - no longer caring if they were poison or not. Some minutes later, however, she felt her senses sharpening. A beautiful feeling of happiness - however illogical,- made her spirits soar and lifted the deep, blanketing depression which had been her only emotion for several days.
"It's Saturday evening", Marius rasped. "And your bastard of a husband hasn't paid the ransom money! Get up and dress yourself - we're going to take a little ride: just the two of us!"
"Where's George?" Natalie found herself looking stupidly at the clock on the mantelpiece. It registered 9.45.
"He went to collect the cash Stafford was supposed to leave for us. I received a phone call two minutes ago. It wasn't there!" Marius snapped his fingers impatiently. "I told you to get dressed, didn't I? What's the matter? Don't you want to go back home to your loving husband?"
"You - you're going to set me free?" Natalie gasped. "You're really going to release me?"
Marius leered at her. "Why not? We've had our fun with you. haven't we? It's too bad about the money, but I suppose you can't win them all ... Now. let's move it. shall we?"
Natalie was well under the influence of the amphetamines she had swallowed by now. In other circumstances she would doubtless have suspected Marius's apparent good grace: but the euphoria induced by the pep pills swayed her better judgment. Hurriedly, happily, she dressed in the clothes which Suzanne had bought for her. Lightheaded and smiling, she made no attempt to run away from Marius as he escorted her downstairs and into the car which waited at the curb ...
CHAPTER TEN
The Number Two platform at Paddington station was crowded with home-going people who had spent a brief Saturday evening in town. Because of the infrequency of late trains, most of them were obliged to travel back to their outlying suburbs much earlier than they wished; and the 9.58 p.m. to Reading in Berkshire would be packed -when the train finally pulled into the platform. At five minutes to the hour it still hadn't arrived: and the crowds were pressing close to the edge of the platform, trying to see if it was at last approaching the station. It was a slightly dangerous situation, since the line had recently been electrified and several of the men were pushing drunkenly into the people at the front - their Saturday intake of beer and spirits making them careless of other lives as well as their own ...
As Marius had anticipated, an accident could very easily occur without anyone realizing - at least for some time - that a girl had been pushed deliberately onto the live rail in front of the incoming train!
He held Natalie's arm tightly, steering her through the jostling crowd until they were both standing with their feet near to the platform's drop. She had accepted without question his explanation that he was going to "see her safely to her front doorstep" - and Marius knew that the strong stimulants he had given to the girl would keep her mind easy until the last second of her life: when he thrust her forward and watched her being burnt by the electric rail or crushed beneath the grinding wheels of the engine ...
"Here it comes!"
The shout went up nearby and Marius shifted his balance, timing to a split second the moment when it would be most opportune to shove Natalie onto the track.
The train slowed as it neared the platform, but that didn't matter. If the live rail didn't kill the girl outright, then the sheer weight of those mighty wheels would do the job. He tensed himself. One ... two ... three ... Marius counted under his breath; eased his hand carefully away from Natalie's arm; stole it, palm outwards, to the small of her back ...
His wrist was suddenly seized just as he began to press forward!
Marius yelped with pain, tried to turn around but couldn't. Fingers clawed into his skin - he reached desperately behind him and caught hold of a jacket front. Natalie swung round in surprise, and then - as Marius kicked wildly out at her, the girl jumped instinctively out of the way. Too late to correct his lunge, Marius realized to his horror that he was toppling face-first onto the line!
They fell together: Marius taking the other man with him as he clung with all his strength to the jacket of his opponent ...
When Natalie's eyes finally opened and she turned, shuddering, back to face the edge of the platform, there was nothing to be seen. The scream of the brakes and the hysteria of the people pressing around her drowned her own cries; and the huge bulk of the train loomed up in front of her - its engine screeching to a halt over the bodies which lay beneath it ...
"I demand an explanation! First of all, I want to know who these people are. And secondly, I insist that you tell me why you're refusing to press charges against those scoundrels who kidnapped you!"
"You're not in any position to demand!" Natalie said scornfully. "What kind of a man are you? Someone who would let his own wife die - no matter how much he disliked her - just for the sake of a good newspaper story is nothing but a - a -".
"A son of a bitch!" Robert Jennings supplied. He stepped towards Gerald Stafford threateningly. The editor-in-chief of the Sunday Reporter stood his ground. Damn it, he thought, this is my house - I won't be pushed around! He started to raise his fist, but Jennings was quicker. A full-blooded uppercut smashed into Stafford's jaw. lifting him slightly and then jolting him backwards into the furniture. He went out like a light ...
Natalie smiled with satisfaction. Remembering her lessons in bondage at the hands of Marius Quayle, she went quickly to a sideboard where oddments were kept and brought out several lengths of thick wire. It took only a few moments for Jennings to truss Stafford up like a Christmas turkey: tying his hands behind him and then bending the man's knees so that he could make doubly sure he was helpless by fastening his ankles together and joining them - with a short piece of wire - to the bonds around his wrists.
"There!" he panted, straightening up. "I think that will hold him! What about her?" Jennings nodded towards Marilyn Turner, who was retreating nervously; one hand trembling at her mouth, the other instinctively trying to conceal the nakedness of her loins.
"Well?" Natalie demanded. "What about it? Are you on his side - or ours? I ought to warn you before you answer: so far as my husband's social status is concerned, he's all washed up! When the other newspaper publishes my story, and the world learns the truth about the sort of person he really is, nobody of any importance will want to know him!"
Marilyn's eyes darted like a calculating machine. She stopped moving away from them and licked her lips. Finally: "Your husband doesn't mean anything to me, Mrs. Stafford. I was only a whore to him - it didn't go any deeper than that!"
"All right. Suzanne - I suggest you lock the door and dim the lights." Natalie's voice was crisp and laden with authority. She was the pivot around which their lives revolved at the moment, and she intended to gain full advantage from this fact.
It was now three days since the nightmare on the platform of Paddington station. Following the incident, Natalie had been taken in a state of acute shock to hospital. They didn't realize her identity until midday on Sunday: and Stafford had gambled that - although Natalie's body had not yet been discovered - her kidnappers had carried out their threat. Accordingly, the front page of the Sunday Reporter carried another supposed "scoop": jumping the gun, Gerald Stafford printed his self-written story lamenting his wife's murder. Natalie, who had - of course - scribbled the note pleading with Stafford to meet the demands of her kidnappers while she was still under the impression that Marius was highly dangerous, saw the newspaper and understood the truth immediately ...
Her knowledge changed everything. She realized now the depth of her husband's cynicism; realized that he had no use for her except as a disposable pawn in his search for sensational new material for his newspaper. Later that same day, Robert Jennings - accompanied by Suzanne - visited the hospital. They had been so shocked to learn of Marius's murder attempt that they wanted to make amends in the only way open to them: by offering their freedom to Natalie, by placing their future in her hands.
There was no rational motive for this sacrifice. It was a brave, almost saintly restitution for the mortal danger in which their actions had placed the girl. And Natalie's faith in human nature had been somewhat restored by the couple's selfless attempt at atonement. However, she planned a very different use for Jennings' and Suzanne's loyalty ... She wanted only one thing now: revenge on her husband! And they could be of invaluable assistance to her in this project ...
With Quayle and George Burke dead (the latter having succumbed to a last-minute repentance and saving Natalie's life in the nick of time - albeit at the cost of his own) there was hatred in the girl's heart for one person only. As Stafford blinked his eyes open and discovered to his horror that he was securely tied, hand and foot, she stepped over to him and stood with her legs open across his contorted, apoplectic face.
"Shall I tell you what I'm going to do?" Natalie sneered. "There's only one way I can really hurt you -and that's through your newspaper! Nothing else in this world matters a damn, does it? Well", she continued, swaying her hips and allowing her short skirt to flare up briefly - giving her husband a quick view of her bare thighs and a glimpse of block panties. "I've sold the story of my adventures to the News Of The Week! Full, intimate details - not just about the kidnapping, but about your reaction to it!"
"Now that's going to hurt, isn't it?" Natalie gloated. "You'll be able to read all about it, but not in your own newspaper! Naturally, I won't be using the real names of my friends. So far as the police are concerned, I'm simply not pressing charges against them. And now ... just to show you that I'm not the cold-blooded, frigid bitch you believe me to be, we're going to give you a little demonstration of my sex-appeal." Meaningfully, Natalie turned her head towards her husband's mistress: "Aren't we, Marilyn?"
Quickly, the girl nodded her head. Her role in this strange confrontation was too ambiguous for her to risk Natalie's anger. And when Mrs. Stafford walked towards her, took her by the wrist and then led her back to where her husband was lying, Marilyn raised no objection as the girl calmly put one hand on her bare cunt and pulled the hairs aside so that the slit became visible.
"It doesn't feel as if you had a chance to fuck her tonight before we interrupted you", Natalie told Stafford. She fidgeted with the lips of the quim until one of her fingers worked upwards into the hole. "That's good! Because it means that you're still feeling hot and randy! Now ... " Natalie tucked her finger more securely into Marilyn's cunt and crooked it; then drew the girl forward by applying pressure to the inside of her sex. Marilyn was made to stand with her raw, exposed wound directly over Stafford's upturned face: while Natalie frigged her gently and slowly sank onto her knees beside them. "I'm going to give Marilyn the best finger-fuck she's ever had! That's something Suzanne taught me to do. Then I'll show you my pussy - because I'm just going to caress it through my panties, that's all! And it will be wetter than hers, I promise you!"
Natalie tucked up her skirt and carried out her promise. She frigged both cunts at the same time; stimulating the bulge of her own sex-lips with her left hand finger, working it rapidly up and down the cleft which strained against her black briefs, while her right hand continued to twist freely deep inside Marilyn's vagina.
Panting. Natalie brought the other girl off to a lavish spending - Marilyn's thighs tensing and quivering as the irresistible friction stimulated the flow of her sex-juice. And directly she felt the mucous flowing onto her fingers, Natalie stripped her own pants down to her knees and proudly pressed the slit open so that her husband could see the bubbles and the glistening moisture which trickled out of it and oozed along the inside of her thighs ...
The only reason for Gerald Stafford's silence during this lewd display was fear: fear that he would burst a blood vessel in his anger if he gave voice to the wrath which boiled up in him. Let them do what they like, his judgment insisted. You can still win if you don't show them that this is affecting you ... if you pretend to be blas� and aloof instead of blowing your top! But the effort to restrain his fury - not to mention the unfortunate swelling of his cock as he witnessed the two beautiful young quims, now displayed only inches from his eyes - became more and more difficult to maintain.
"That was only a preliminary", Natalie was saying. "Now we're really going to work on you!"
She beckoned to Jennings and Suzanne. Gladly, they joined Natalie; eager to do her bidding and ready to obey her slightest whim. The girl pushed Marilyn out of the way, then guided Suzanne forward. Natalie began to undress her old kidnapper, noting that Suzanne had on this occasion chosen feminine lingerie instead of the un-sexy Y-fronts she had worn previously. As she unfastened the brassiere and allowed the girl's breasts to wobble free of the cups, Natalie told Stafford that - whereas she, herself, had discovered a certain bisexual desire - Suzanne was exclusively lesbian.
" ... and yet I prefer her caresses to yours!" she taunted the man. "I'd rather sleep with Suzanne and feel her cunt riding on mine than have your ugly prick in my pussy!"
Stafford's face grew even redder. His florid complexion made him appear more like a painted clown than ever; his losing battle to control himself and appear unconcerned making the veins stand out on his forehead and neck.
"Suck me!" Natalie commanded, in a regal and imperious voice. And Suzanne instantly knelt before her, tugging the girl's panties all the way to her ankles and tilting her head back so that she could bring her mouth into contact with the already slimy cunt. She dipped her tongue deeply into the crack while her lips glued themselves around the fleshy pink lobes and kissed passionately at them; the wet lesbian petting reaching Stafford's ears as a steady, lapping rhythm that bore into his brain like a Chinese water torture.
While she was being provoked in this way, Natalie pulled off her sweater and showed her husband the cute and sexy brassiere which adorned her breasts. It was fastened at the front, between the cups, and her buxom titties were in now way hidden by the garment. They could be seen distinctly through the transparent net cups, their nipples stiff and rosy as a result of Suzanne's vigorous, well-skilled sucking at the girl's genitals.
Casually, Natalie unzipped the hook and eye which kept her sweet bra together and it sprang widely open -the straps still dangling over her shoulders, but the breasts exposed in all their naked charm.
"Darling - would you like to take a little milk from them?" Natalie pleaded softly - not to her husband but to Robert Jennings. She lifted the globes and tapped gently at the swelling teats with her fingertips. "They feel so juicy ... I really need to have them sucked dry", she whispered. "Please don't pull too hard on them, will you? Just take them into your mouth and draw firmly but gently ... I'm sure that will stop them aching so much!"
Jennings stooped beside her - his body touching the cunt-sucking Suzanne's - and closed his lips around the nearest nipple. For a moment he merely held the teat against his tongue, letting it loll heavily and quiver against the wetness; then, very gradually, he started to increase the pressure of his mouth around the cherry. Closing his lips more and more tightly, Jennings pulled it deeply inwards. Natalie gasped and writhed with excitement. Her nipple really ached now - a thrilling and sharpening twinge running through the sensitive bud as the man complied with her instructions and deliberately refrained from sucking too intensely on her throbbing, lusciously enlarged titty.
When both of her teats had been well-milked in this fashion, and Natalie's cunt had begun to pulse fervently under the nonstop slurping of Suzanne's lips, she decided to replace the girl's mouth with a fine, juicy cock. Natalie was openly relishing her new, masterful authority. She felt like an omnipotent queen of old - perhaps recalling the erotic rouging of her nipples and cunt-lips, when Suzanne had compared her to Marie Antoinette - and the inspiration for sexy combinations (in which she, of course, would be the focal point) crowded wildly through her mind.
To be screwed by Jennings while her husband watched, unable to intervene, was probably the most urgent of these stimulating thoughts; and Natalie devised a position whereby Gerald Stafford could hardly avoid seeing their fucking - unless he had the will-power to keep his eyes closed!
With her back to her husband, she told Jennings to lie on the carpet and stretch his legs out towards Stafford's face, his feet almost touching the man's head. Completely naked, Natalie straddled her lover and slowly went down on her knees across his not-quite erect penis. The slightly limp shaft buckled against her loins, but began to thicken and rise up at the hot, moist contact - reaching a mighty, virile state directly the girl's fingers sought its length and gave it a brief, encouraging massage.
From Stafford's low eye level, the penetration of his wife's cunt was seen at its most advantageous viewpoint: the slow sinking of the helmet between her sex-lips, the gradual disappearance of the rest of the horny spear, the excited quivering of the girl's buttocks as they reacted to the start of the fucking ... all this was presented to the man's vision in intimate close-up. With a controlled, knowing awareness, Natalie encouraged Jennings to lie still for a time while she attended to the up-and-down motion of his knob in her cunt. Her thighs moved carefully and she raised the wet slit of her sex so that it slid slowly along the entire length of the prick: pausing only at the critical moment when she could feel its crown about to work free of her lips. Then Natalie eased herself down again, sinking with a sensual ease on the cock and allowing it to fuck back into her pussy ...
She started to revolve her hips in a grinding, exaggerated movement at the fourth descent; swaying the cheeks of her arse and raising her hands to her head - running her fingers through the blonde hair as if the pleasure she was reviewing was making her distraught.
Uninvited, but nevertheless very welcome, Suzanne drew near to the fuckers - her desire aroused more by the glistening wetness of Natalie's nipples than by the more obscene spectacle of their screwing. She asked the question with her eyes, and Natalie nodded her assent. Suzanne settled herself on Jennings' chest, facing Natalie, and encircled her arms around the girl so that she could draw her into a loving embrace. Their breasts touched, then squashed together: the nipples rubbing with an erotic, bumping pressure - Suzanne's smaller titties pushed back against her chest by the thrusting mounds of Natalie's far riper bosom.
And as the girls kissed each other, tongues meeting breathlessly and licking over and under each other, Jennings eased one hand beneath Suzanne's slim buttocks. He kept his palm flat until it had worked completely under her loins, then curled the fingers to make them fondle into the lesbian's cunt. Suzanne was too excited to care whose fingers were caressing her! She instinctively lifted her bottom and helped the man to penetrate her slit more comfortably, running her hands down Natalie's bare back - sending shivers of ecstasy through the girl as her fingertips played at the base of her spine - and tantalizing herself by delaying the moment when she would cup those pretty cheeks, her hands pressing and moving the flesh which she craved so dearly.
The lusty grouping and the uninhibited cries and moans of pleasure which the three young people were making brought Stafford's prick to a bulging stiffness. He couldn't contain his excitement any longer. He had to share the intense thrills which they were enjoying -no matter how much it cost him in pride and self-respect ...
"Marilyn!" he whispered hoarsely. "Darling, please come to me! I need you so badly - I can't stand it. I've got to have relief!"
His mistress stared coldly back at him. She. too, was feeling frustrated at being excluded from the trio's orgy, but her control was stronger than Gerald Stafford's. At the moment, there was certainly no room for her to join in with Natalie, Suzanne and Jennings - but Marilyn decided to bide her time rather than weaken and commit herself to a love-bout with a man whom she had come to despise. Ignoring his repeated, urgent solicitations, she began to play with her own pussy ... keeping it moist and excited while she waited for an opportunity to take part in the far more stimulating debauch - which now seemed about to reach its zenith.
The two luscious cunts which were grinding so wetly on him - Natalie's quim fucking up and down over the juice-soaked shaft of his prick; and Suzanne's slit squirming hotly under the frigging of his fingers, the stiff little knob of her clitoris pulsing into his belly - were bringing him such glorious excitement that Jennings must surely have ejaculated long ago if it hadn't been for the motionless attitude he maintained. But by keeping his cock from jerking fiercely in response to Natalie's lust, he managed to delay the orgasm which he wanted so much to reach. It required phenomenal restraint to feel the girls' naked bodies on top of him. to know that they were kissing and fondling each other into one heated climax after another, and yet to hold back his own spending, but Jennings committed himself to this almost superhuman task. He could feel his foreskin riding up and down as Natalie urged her loins faster and faster; the tight muscles of her cunt gripping at his uncircumcised hood and whipping it again and again from the crown to the midway point of his shaft. It was a sensation that had no equal so far as exquisite pain-pleasure was concerned.
Meanwhile, Marilyn saw a chance that she had previously overlooked. Beneath Natalie's arse, its restlessly heaving cheeks largely covered by Suzanne's insatiably roaming hands, she caught sight of Jennings' large bollocks! Crawling between the man's outflung legs, Marilyn squeezed her face forward until her mouth was touching the pink, hairy pouch. She opened her lips and kissed the wrinkled skin, then began to slowly suck the hard little testicles: breathing in the strong, spicy aroma of Natalie's sex-cream and feeling tiny trickles of the hot milk seeping into her hair and dripping sluggishly down her forehead like beads of sweat.
The intimacy of being linked to their lust and becoming a part of it was worth far more to Marilyn than the most undivided attention which she could have obtained from Gerald Stafford. Merely by opening and shutting her thighs, rhythmically pressing her cunt-lips together, she could reach her climax - and the girl applied her mouth selflessly to Jennings' nuts, playing her tongue over them to increase his pleasure and feeling against her nostrils the first independent motion of the man's cock ...
For this sweet, but maddening, attention to his balls was shattering Jennings' self-control. He urged his prick suddenly and savagely into Natalie's profusely wet quim, replying to her squirming rhythm with strokes that fucked the weapon again and again to its hilt.
The width of his cock throbbed violently against her slit, its length thrusting in and out of the round, fleshy vulva with a speed that jolted the girl mercilessly up and down: making her cling desperately to Suzanne's body in order not to lose her balance. Jennings was still frigging the latter girl, using his fingers as if they were pistons -lashing them along the sticky meat of her sex-funnel -deaf to her anguished but ecstatic cries for mercy.
"You fucking bitches!" he roared, screaming out the obscenities above the moans of the three young women. "You sexy bloody whores! I'm coming, I tell you! Hold your fucking crack still - keep it tight! I'm going to shoooot!!"
And instantly, out of his rigid, well-tried prick there ' boiled a fearsome jet of spunk. It spouted in a virile, vigorous spray as Jennings hammered his crotch against Natalie's loins with excitement. The plentiful sperm went gushing up into the girl's cunt with the force of a mighty tidal wave, and Jennings sustained the first emission for as long as possible - straining every muscle in his body to keep the fluid ejaculating.
Finally, as the initial stage of his orgasm began to subside, he fucked insensately up and down again: the tickling returning to his cock and causing it to release yet another long gout of semen ...
The outsider, the man who had been forced to watch and not partake of this thrilling exchange, had a brief moment of insight before he settled back into his gnawing, frustrated hatred of the lovers. Gerald Stafford - for the space of a fleeting, transitory second - realized that his choice of profession had made him a voyeur, a hypocritical spectator of other peoples' pleasure.
To the same extent that his vast readership was cut off from personal involvement in exciting and extraordinary events, so. too, was the newspaper's editor-in-chief. Like the masses whose limited vision he encouraged and fostered, Stafford was unable to comprehend what true freedom really meant. He was locked in a treadmill of his own design; of his own making. And he had rejected a golden opportunity to behave as a man without his deficiency would have treated the situation. Instead of learning from his experience, Stafford chose to suppress the knowledge it could have given him about his personality ...
Only on the surface had anything changed. His resolution to somehow combat Natalie's threat of publishing the story of her kidnapping in a rival newspaper simply made Stafford more embittered, more determined to see that the Reporter sold more copies than its competitors.
