It is a well know fact that prostitution has existed in syndicate form in the Caribbean Islands since the time of Columbus and the Conquistadors of Spain. It has been romanticized in countless novels concerning the abduction of innocent girls and wives by pirate ships who in turn used them until they tired of them and then sold them into a life of sin and degradation in the nearest port that happened to be convenient.
All this is well and good when read in the historical sense and one is actually removed physically from it by the span of passing centuries. But, when "the same thing exists in today's civilized world and the general public is unaware of it, then it is the duty of responsible publishers to bring it to their attention. The law, much like our political process is slow to act unless brought under pressure by the combined forces of public opinion.
The Liverpool Library Press has been extremely fortunate in securing the exclusive rights to the inside story of these dastardly operations. A young lady who years ago was involved involuntarily in the prostitution ring described herein agreed to tell her story to author Wanda Greenberg. She has, of course, changed the names of the people involved and the exact locations described in order to protect the innocent parties who are not connected with them. The heroine, Shirley Squires, was unfortunately not one of those who was able to escape from the life of depraved animal lust into which she was lured. As this story actually occurred several years ago, it is highly speculative if she is even still alive today.
Ms. Greenberg has explained, that she chose her particular story for a specific reason. Hers, above all the others her confident related to her, perhaps explained with greater clarity the hopeless predicament these girls find themselves in when they search for escape from a previous wrong, real or imaginary, by cutting all the ties they have known before.
The hapless Shirley would never have encountered the evil and greed of such a man as Mr. Jones had she stayed within her own bounds of New York where she knew other people! True, she had been thrown aside by her lover, but that should not matter. One, if one desires, can be just as alone in New York as anywhere else in the world.
Secondly, the real crux of the matter becomes her adjustment to the life she is forced to lead. True, she was plied with drugs in the beginning, but still, had she had the courage to really fight she undoubtedly could have saved herself and avoided her complete capitulation to a lifetime of lust and degradation, at the end. Perhaps there was still even time for escape at the point but Ms. Greenberg brings out with all too true candidness that by that time their young minds are so warped and twisted by the horrible, depraved sexual excesses they have been subjected to, that nothing really matters anymore. They become in a sense like a piteous character out of George Orwell who has been stripped naked of all individuality and pride. The one thing left to a broken mind in this predicament is to follow rotely every command that is given to it no matter how degrading it may be. This then is the real danger that Ms. Greenberg speaks of and the moral that we the publishers are attempting to impart to our readers. We trust we shall meet with success.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
The wintry New York sleet beat a depressing tattoo against the window panes of Shirley Squires' small but cozy apartment as she peered as best she could across the rooftops of the other apartment buildings at the distant Manhattan skyline. God! She had never felt so alone, she thought, as the combination of the Saturday weather and the events at the office of the past week sent her into a state of dejection such as she'd never before experienced. What had she done, what terrible crime had she committed, to have caused Phil to have changed his mind like that? Philip Jackson had been her boss in New York for just over a year, Shirley going to him straight out of secretarial school. But, more important, Phil had been her lover for nearly six months, and now it seemed that she would not only have to leave her job but she would no longer be taken in his strong muscular arms, his lips tenderly meeting hers and whispering how much he adored her. Sometimes he would take risks right in the office and she would shush him in embarrassment when he laughed out loud at his own teasing of her. He used to joke that she was not only his "Girl Friday" but his Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, too, and she would blush at the thought of what they did in their out-of-office hours together, here, in the intimacy of her apartment.
She had lacked office experience when she'd applied to work for Phil but he told her he thought she'd got good grades in secretarial school and that he would train her. The tears coursing down her cheeks tasted bitter on her lips as she remembered his promise to train her. Train her, he certainly had, and not only in office work! She hadn't a care in the world and was as innocent as a newborn babe when she'd left home in the Mid-West to go to work in New York. The boredom she'd felt for years in the farming center her parents came from was a depressing weight on her young shoulders she could now shake off and she lost no time making a complete break with her earlier life. Her parents could no longer legally hold her once she was eighteen. Now she was barely nineteen, but what a fantastic change had taken place in little over one year! A love which seemed a thing forever ... so good, so right ... now, apparently, to be discarded all within the space of six months. And what could she do? "I think you should see other people, get around more, Shirl," he had come out with on Friday, skating over the real reason that he'd got tired of her.
At the start he had seemed bedazzled by the innocence and purity of her youthfulness, and protecting her had appeared to be his main aim. To all appearances now, he had seen her as a challenge, a doll to shape and fashion as the whim took him, to be later cast out into the world to battle on her own. It seemed impossible for her to accept this view, however, in spite of the conviction deep within her that it was true. The distorted perspective of the New York skyline the winter sleet caused as it ran down the glass of the apartment windows worsened the nauseous feeling she had at the pit of her stomach that the whole world was sliding away sideways from under her feet. She flung herself down full-length on her divan-bed to bury her sobs in the cushions, her body wracked with the effort of drawing in each lungful of breath.
This was the beginning of the end!
THE END of the whole world that she had built for herself out of dreams for the past six months. She was deeply in love with Phil and the fact that she did not want to live without him was not changed by the alteration in his attitude toward her. What, otherwise, was there to look forward to ... how could there be a substitute for the deep, masculine voice on the other end of the phone telling her she was the most marvelous girl in the world and that he wanted her right now? The hours she'd spent waiting for those calls, her heart lifting with the eventual ring, to run over to it and answer, "Hello, darling," knowing it would be him! Now the telephone just squatted there, its bright crimson color catching her eye however much she tried to. avoid its presence, taunting her.
There was no rhyme nor reason to a phone unless he was going to call. Something told her that this was going to be the longest weekend she'd ever spent. On Friday, he'd called her into his office just before five as he usually did to settle where they would meet for a cocktail, only this time it was to tell her he just wouldn't be able to make it and that he'd call her over the weekend ... there was something he had to discuss with her. He had seemed so cold, speaking without any expression in his voice and failing to give her that affectionate pat on the buttocks with which he usually sent her out of the office. She'd walked back to her desk in a daze, all the premonitions of the week confirmed for her, that this was going to be the end. She couldn't take it, she wanted to run, scream, cry, beg, do anything to make him come back, but she just sat at her typewriter wondering why the office walls didn't cave in. She had seen the button on his phone light up and heard him dialing another number. She knew that she shouldn't pick up the receiver and listen, but she couldn't help herself, so she carefully lifted the receiver and heard him, her Phil, say, "Look, I'm really sorry I didn't call you sooner but I had to clear up a problem here that might have given me some trouble. Can you meet me at the Showboat Bar in about half-an-hour?" Shirley couldn't stifle a sob as she cradled the phone. The lump in her throat seemed enormous and she felt as if her heart would break. Grabbing up her things, she ran out of the office, trying to hide her distraught face from the other girls. She half-walked, half-ran part of the way home that evening, taking the subway only when she was too exhausted to face another step. Once at the apartment, she threw herself on the divan while tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably, before falling into a restless sleep.
Here it was the next day and she wasn't feeling any better. The world looked gloomier. There had been no usual good-night call from Phil and nothing that morning. The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach was not something that could be made to go away with food, although she had forced down some toast and a couple of gulps on a glass of milk. Yes, today would be a very empty day in every way imaginable and, her tears exhausted again, she rolled over on her back on the divan to stare unseeingly at the ceiling, her mind full of reflections on the past.
The first time he'd asked her to go out for more than an informal boss-secretary lunch was way back in July during a heat-wave when New York stewed in humidity. "This, my girl," he had admonished in mock seriousness, "is not a day for catching lunch on the hop at some sandwich-bar. Today's the day we treat ourselves to air-conditioning and plenty of time. Not to mention a terrific meal! Let's lock up the office and throw away the key!" Hearing his announcement had just about made her flip the way it had tied in with her own secret longings. Ever since she'd gone to work for him she'd had a crush on him a first boss infatuation of the worst order, she had thought but here he was, out of the blue, asking her to spend the whole of the afternoon with him! Was it possible that he had noticed she was something other than merely an appendage to a typewriter ... that she was a woman and flesh-and-blood? She was well aware that nature had not exactly been unkind to her as far as being a girl was concerned in fact, she was rather well endowed. A natural blonde, her figure was certainly ample, her young breasts were full and firm, her thighs rounded and supple, and the rest of her legs tapering to slim ankles. She looked like a young Venus ripening into full womanhood and it was someone as handsome and masculine as Phil she'd hoped would notice.
With time out only to freshen up her lips and eye-shadow in the powder-room, she had met Phil downstairs in the lobby of the building. Within moments they were out in the hustle and bustle of the noonday crowds and bearing the brunt of the heat and humidity. Then suddenly he guided her into an obscure doorway and the world was transformed into the quiet and seclusion of one of the city's more discreet restaurants. The room was dimly lit and there were banquettes and booths rather than the usual tables. The maitre d' seemed to know Phil by name and showed them to a booth well off to the side. Phil slid into the seat next to her and pressed his thigh against hers, saying, "Don't look so serious! Is it that bad, going out to lunch with your boss?"
Her heart was pounding so fast at his nearness she wondered if he could hear it. "I think I'll feel more relaxed after a drink," she stammered breathlessly.
He called to a waiter and ordered two Manhattans, then turned his full attention back to her with disconcerting concentration. It was difficult for her eyes to meet his obvious stare and she had the feeling he was undressing her with his look. She could feel the color rise in her cheeks and fumbled in her purse for a cigarette.
"I'm not embarrassing you in some way, am I?" he asked, sensing her discomfiture. "No, not at all. It just seems a bit ... peculiar, somehow. I keep getting the feeling that I'm goofing off from work and any minute now you're going to order me back to that ... that damned typewriter!"
"That's the last thing I had in mind," he laughed, lighting her cigarette. "Just stop worrying about the office it's a million miles away!"
He was about to add something when the drinks arrived. After the waiter had left, he raised his glass to touch hers, and said, "Here's to a very personal relationship!" and then looked at her expectantly.
"Don't you mean 'business' relationship?" she quickly asked.
"No, I don't," he said firmly. "I said, 'personal' and I meant it, Shirley." This all seemed as if it had taken place years and years ago, not months. He had told her things that afternoon that every girl wants to hear and wants to believe. He started by explaining that he had been separated from his wife for over a year, that the business of playing the field since then had grown into a big bore and that he was ready to settle down to a mature relationship with a woman. Woman, he considers me a woman, she'd thought at the time, feeling that he'd placed her on the ultimate pedestal.
Phil had been so sweet that afternoon, so flattering, affectionate and sincere that by the end of the third Manhattan he had her so convinced that she was ready to do anything for him. She'd even imagined herself as the future Mrs. Philip Jackson! Now, she was a cast off. Could it be that he was going back to his wife, she wondered. Thinking that was preferable to believing he was now telling some other girl the things he had once told her, that she had just been one more "conquest" along the road.
Nearly six hours of that Friday afternoon had been spent in that secluded restaurant, a haunt that became a favorite of theirs and welcomed them back many times. The heat and the humidity had started to ease up when they finally dragged themselves away, unable to believe the time. She had invited him to her apartment, knowing very well the full implication of her invitation, and he accepting that they were about to become lovers knew that here was the time for silence. They got his car and drove impatiently through the home-going rush hour as they headed for her place. She sat very close to him, his hand and forearm resting lightly on her knee and thigh. His fingers began to slide back and forth on the nylon stocking where the hem of her skirt touched her leg, then his hand moved slowly beneath the hem of the skirt and gently worked its way farther up until he could feel the tight elastic of her flimsy cotton panties cutting into her upper thigh. She was shocked rigid by the electric current that seemed to flow from his finger tips and his breath was becoming more and more rapid, until he abruptly withdrew his hand and choked out, "If we keep this up we'll never reach the apartment!" He tried to make a joke out of it but they were so close to the brink of losing control the humor was lacking; the Manhattans had so relaxed their guard that their desire and lust for each other were at fever pitch.
The ten miles to her apartment seemed like ten thousand as they slowly fought their way through the increasing rush-hour traffic. Phil felt as though he were on the edge of an explosion and the ache in Shirley's loins kept her crossing and re-crossing her legs in a vain attempt to sit still until they pulled into the apartment block's parking lot.
Although she'd always been popular and had plenty of boyfriends, no man ever before had gone all the way with her, she having always stopped them just short of the insertion of the penis into her vagina. So thought she might be well-experienced, she was pretty sure she was still intact and technically a virgin. Her share of stories about how much it hurt the first time you made love had come her way but she was convinced that it couldn't be any worse than the fiery ache of longing her loins were experiencing now as they demanded their first full and complete satiation.
Her trembling fingers almost dropped her key-ring over the edge of her purse when they reached the apartment door, but once inside she flung keys and purse onto a table and walked directly into the bedroom. He followed her in after closing the outside door, and she was just on the point of kicking off her high heels. She stood up straight again and they looked at each other, feeling the tension between them crescendo to the point where it would break like a taut violin string. They fell together on top of the bed, their hands searching each other's body as though they had been starved and were now about to devour one another. She could feel his hands move roughly, demandingly, under her skirt, and, forcing it up about her hips, revealed the thin, cool white cotton of her panties. Her firm white thighs trembled under his caresses and she moved her hips upward so that his fingers could fit under the flimsy panties' tight elastic edging. She could feel the hard throbbing bulge of his penis as it strained against the confines of his trousers and his left hand was pushing her fingers onto the zipper so that she could release his pulsing, rock stiff rod. She moaned softly as she felt his hand work fully under the tight restrictive elastic of her panties and touch the warm moist lips of her cunt to tease her to an even greater height. At first, her fingers had trouble trying to undo the top button of his pants, but he was quick to help her and soon she could open up the zipper all the way and feel the silky smooth nylon of his shorts beneath.
Hungrily her fingers searched at the shorts' opening and reached inside the bulging folds of the material to grasp the solid roundness of his thickly jerking penis and she gasped, thinking, My God! He's huge!
His lips quickly stopped her gasps and moans and he nibbled gently at her ear and neck as she threw back her head against the pillows in complete abandon. His fingers manipulated the wetly throbbing lips of her vagina and grazed roughly against the sensitive hardened bud of her clitoris until she felt she would not be able to stand it one moment longer. Her hands played equally harshly with his burgeoning cock, furiously working the foreskin back on the shaft and then pulling it forward again, stimulating the glans of the bulbous penis-head until its purplish bluntness was jerking involuntarily in her hands.
His fingers were now slowly forcing their way into the tight, moist channel of her open vagina and she could feel her warm wet flesh contracting around his fingers as the pressure increased. It hurt her slightly, but she was too caught up in her passion and lust to cry out or to tell him to stop or be more careful. She writhed beneath the impalement of her cunt, inadvertently forcing his hand deeper and deeper into the hotly burning cavern between her legs until suddenly his fingernail accidentally grazed the tight unused walls of her passage. She cried out in a slight, sudden pain and he startled quickly withdrew his hand.
"Oh Christ! So you are a virgin!" he exclaimed in exultant surprise.
"Yes, yes ... but oh my God! Don't stop now. I need you so badly!" The young man slowly raised himself from the bed and, moving over to a chair in the darkening room, began undressing until he stood before her without a stitch on. His build was perfect, solid and muscular with the proportions of a Greek god, and his thickened hard penis stood out and jerked up against his stomach like a massive rod. She could not take her eyes off his swollen throbbing cock and she thought how wonderful it was going to be to feel it throbbing deep up inside her, filling her every inch of the way ... how warm and secure it would feel when he erupted inside her to flood the whole of her belly with the heat of his life-giving sperm.
Coming over to her and taking hold of her tenderly he gently raised her from the bed so that he could start undressing her. After helping her remove her blouse, he looked at the full ripeness of her young white breasts as they stood up above the cloth of her brassiere and sucked in a deep breath. He had not realized she was so smoothly skinned before and this excited him even more. He undid the zipper of her rucked up skirt and that too he slipped up and over her head. The youthful sensuousness of her body sent the blood careening through his brain. Abruptly he sat on the edge of the bed but controlled his fingers to pull gently at the elastic waistband of her panties to ease them over her garter belt and over her upper thighs and stocking tops to finally flip them carelessly onto the nearest chair. He bent over to kiss the soft white flesh of her stomach as she arched her back so that he could reach behind her to unclasp her brassiere. He tossed that, too, in the direction of her panties and then his lips began hungrily searching and nibbling at every inch of her body, caressing gently at first the hardened pink buds of her nipples and then sucking on them more intensely. She could feel his mouth nibbling and biting the tender aching nipples and a slight pain shuddered through her as she writhed violently beneath him. She reached with her hands over the length of his back and ran her fingers under his heavy muscular haunches until they found the soft roundness of his testicles, teasing them tantalizingly with one hand while the other caressed firmly the long thick shaft of his rock hard penis. She maneuvered it back and forth, then sideways, first against the nylon smoothness of her stocking and then against the firm resilient flesh of her upper thigh. As he continued the soft tender mouthing of her now quivering belly, he moved his fingers down her body until he found the tiny wet opening of her cunt, slowly separating the warm clasping lips until he could use his fingertips to probe thrillingly at the erectness of her clitoris. She tried to force her legs together but his movements were too fast and, swiftly pressing her legs wider apart his mouth found the rosy sweet slit and he began to suck gently on her cuntal lips as his tongue teased her now frantic clitoris into a frenzy. She could no longer control her body as she squirmed helplessly beneath his relentless sucking mouth and spearing tongue, and a sharp, new sensations rippled like lightning through her quivering limbs. She gasped for breath and moaned as his swirling raping tongue continued to drive her to greater ecstatic heights and demands. "Oooooooogh God!" she moaned. "Aaaaaagghh! I can't stand what you're doing to me ... oooooooh my God!" But there was nothing she could do but submit willingly to this furiously passion-crazed interlude and take it for all it was worth.
She thought she would never see the end of the tormenting fires rippling deep along the walls of her melting vagina and she was dying to have him inside her, filling her, satisfying this animal need that had sprang to heights of frenzy. She moved her hand and fingers more rapidly now up and down his hardened, lust-filled cock until he moved once again, this .time to get at the clasp of her garter belt. It sprang free from the front and he tugged the frail lacy garment away from underneath her and with two hands curved around her left thigh he deftly drew off that stocking from her slim tapering leg and then repeated the same caressing movement on her right thigh and leg to finally leave the writhing passion filled girl completely naked.
"Oh Jesus!" he gasped. "Are you ever asking for it, honey! I'm going to fuck that little blonde virgin pussy of yours until you're begging me to stop!" His voice trembled and broke with the almost uncontrollable excitement that the blonde writhing body incited to fever pitch.
"Oh yes ... now ... take me, take me ... I love you ... I want you ... NOW ... Please God NOW!" The fires raging deep in her belly would brook no further delay. With a sudden movement he pulled himself farther up her body. His hands went behind her knees forcing her thighs completely apart so that she lay there spread-eagled and vulnerable. He pulled her Under him more fully and spread her thighs as wide as he could stretch them, making her gasp and ready herself. Then she could feel the desire-hardened tip of his penis as it pushed back the outer lips of her throbbing vagina and guided his thick manhood quickly up into the receptive pussy. She groaned, as she felt the first blunt entry and the sensation was as if she were being split apart, but her passion was too high for her to cry out in protest. She was moaning and gasping, but it was in anticipation of the coming pleasure more than any pain he was causing her. Slowly he worked his way into her until his rigid shaft of flesh came to the tight elastic resistance of her maidenhead. She could feel him probing against it gently at first, trying to stretch the tiny opening that nature had allowed, but suddenly his patience ended and with a low animal grunt, he plunged into her with one forceful lunge, tearing the thin tight membrane of her virginity into a thousand shreds.
"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrgghhhh! No! Stop! STOP! Please God, stop before you kill meeeeee!" she shrieked in sudden fear and pain, but it was too late. She kicked her legs wildly into the air, trying to release some of the pressure that was building up inside the hotly splitting channel between her legs, but it did no good. He was embedded deep up into her screaming belly and there was no way on earth to dislodge him now.
He lay stock-still for a moment, allowing her to regain her composure and then whispered softly, "Relax, relax, and move with me. That way, you'll enjoy it." He was trying to be tender to her, but his passion was at such a peak that he doubted that he would be able to wait much longer before exploding like a wild bursting rocket inside the tight confines of her virginal, hot throbbing pussy.
She tried to move under him, but she was still afraid that it would hurt, so her movements were guarded. But after the first few moments of his impalement, she realized that the pain she had experienced a few minutes ago was gone and she began to slowly and deliberately grind up into his hips with a renewed fervor. Her body was demanding satisfaction as much as his and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him up into her until she thought she could feel his hardened rod digging into the very bottom of her belly. Every thrust he made went deeper and deeper into her wet aching cunt and her rotations became more and more rapid as choking sounds of passion and lust rolled desperately from her mouth.
"Oooooooooohhh ... aaaaaaarrgghhhh...." she moaned as she twisted violently beneath him, forcing her cuntal lips up to meet his every thrust inside her. He reached down and cupped his hands beneath her buttocks in order to give himself more leverage and force himself deeper into the tight hot well of her clinging pussy. His penis was throbbing, expanding and jerking and he knew that he would not be able to keep up this pace much longer so he ground her into the mattress, burying himself as hard as he could, up to the hilt.
She could feel his body pounding against hers, answering her need for passion and fulfillment and she could feel the walls of her vagina slowly begin to contract against his massive penis and begin the throes of her orgasm. Never in her life had she experienced anything like this!
"Oh yes, darling, fuck me, fuck me now ... I'm cumming ... I'm cumming!" she gasped, using words she'd never spoken before in her entire life. Knowing that she'd reached her peak, he thrust into her with renewed vigor until he could feel his penis suddenly expand and the hot, liquid sperm spurting from his lust-hardened cock deep up into her convulsing walls in her womb.
"Aaaaaagggghhhhh!" she gasped as she felt the hot sticky fluid fill her satiated belly.
"That was marvelous, darling ... that was wonderful...!" she whispered after a moment, her breasts still quivering and heaving up into his chest. They lay there together on the bed, spent and gasping in lungfuls of air, not speaking for a long time. Then Phil shifted slightly and broke the silence, saying, "You had it difficult there at the beginning for a moment, my darling, but you won't have that pain again. All I want to do is make you happy."
"Oh no, it was wonderful," she whispered. "You make me very happy. I never want to forget you scrunching down on me. But if I can walk tomorrow it'll be a miracle!" He laughed softly and rolled close alongside her holding her gently. Before long, she had fallen asleep that way cradled in the strength of his arms. She slept a sleep deeper than any she'd ever known before.
CHAPTER TWO
She had been and still was blindly in love with him. Conjuring up in her mind's eye all the details of their first night together only heightened the conviction that she had lost him. Never again would they spend a night like that or like any of the days and nights of passion experienced since.
Because she was blindly in love there may have been some little things he had done that should have told her given a hint of what was in store. It was fruitless to try to go back over time to recognize them now; if he had done such things, she wouldn't have noticed, for the simple reason that she didn't want to notice.
The central fact she had to deal with now was the impossibility of just walking into the office on Monday morning and see him, and pretend that nothing was wrong. And the only way to deal with that fact, and defeat the cruel game he decided to play with her, was never to return to that office again. She would have to find another job and get a change of atmosphere or face going completely crazy.
There had been some money saved from her salary. Phil had always taken care of meals and entertainment, and even had bought her clothes. Practically her only expense had been her apartment rent, so she wouldn't be forced to scurry around looking for another job right away at least not for the next two weeks. But the first worry was to let Phil know she wasn't coming back.
She got up from the divan and went over to the small table she used as a writing desk. She found a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen and sat down to write him a note. If she mailed it today, it would be on his desk by Monday morning. It was the most difficult piece of writing she'd ever attempted. She made repeated false starts, tearing the offending drafts up in disgust either because they were too emotional or because they just didn't have any feeling in them at all. And then she'd have an attack of tears halfway through and one would fall on the paper and she'd have to wipe that up before it dried into a permanent stain. Finally she managed to finish the note by saying that under the circumstances she did not feel she could work for him any longer and that she was leaving New York for awhile until she could get clear in her mind what she wanted to do. It wasn't until she'd written that she intended leaving New York that her mind really consciously started grappling with that possibility, but the more she dwelt on the idea the more feasible it became. If she was bound and determined she should take a couple of weeks off why shouldn't she take them off somewhere warmer. At least a change would get her out of this filthy New York winter weather!
As soon as she had returned from mailing her letter to Phil at the mailbox just outside the apartment block, Shirley sat down to concentrate on this new play of hers to put the past behind her completelyor as completely as she could. About fifty vacation pamphlets and brochures had been collected by the nineteen year old blonde over the last four months and carefully filed away alphabetically in two drawers of the bedroom closet. She had started collecting them in the secret anticipation that Phil would one day propose marriage to her, when his divorce finally went through. She had been saving them in order to pick out the ideal spot for a honeymoonhers and Phil's. What a laugh that was now!
She went over every one of them carefully, eliminating each place for one reason or another. Either they were too far away, or she didn't speak the language or she didn't have enough money. Usually it was the last reason. Finally, she decided on Jamaica, mainly because one folder included a section offering a "Package" deal at one particular hotel that seemed a very good price. She looked at the pictures of the hotel and its location carefully and it and the area seemed very pleasant. She would have enough money for at least a two-week stay, with any luck, inside of two weeks she would be able to find some work down there that would keep her in the sunshine and as far away from Phillip Jackson as she could getwith the tourist season in full swing, perhaps something in a hotel or as a cocktail waitress.
Before she could change her mind she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the airline advertising the special "package" deal in the travel folder. Yes, they still had that arrangement going with the hotel named-Hotel Seychelles, at Montego Bay. No, there was no objection to her paying for the trip before departure. When did Madam want to leave? Sunday? They had a Sunday evening flight-The Tropicana Flight with two Tropicana rum punches served gratis to economy-seat passengers. Would Madam like to make a reservation? Splendid. And for this flight it was especially important to arrive at the departure counter at least an hour before departure time.
Once all the details had been completed and the telephone had been replaced on its cradle, Shirley somehow felt a great surge of relief sweep through her. She felt weak and tired and decided she may as well get through her bleak Saturday night by going to bed early. There would be plenty of time to pack for her trip tomorrow. She tried to keep any thoughts of Phil out of her mind. To guarantee sleep, though, she took a stiff drink of scotch with her to bed.
With a fresh and rested mind the next day, however, it wasn't so easy to exorcise images of her former lover from her thoughts. She busied herself with getting coffee and breakfast and then with working out what clothes she wanted to take with her. It was fun to a certain extent getting out all her summer things again, long before she had expected to, but that only lasted for so long and eventually every bit of her packing was done and she still had hours to go before flight time.
She sat around most of the early afternoon, figuring that if she took a cab about three that would get her to the airport in plenty of time. Then at two-thirty, the phone rang. She answered hesitantly, but her heart started pounding when she heard the voice at the other end say, "So, honey, what're doing?"
"Phil!" she gasped. "I really didn't expect you to call."
"Well, I wasn't going to but I thought there was something that I should explain to you. It's not something easy to say and I don't know that you're going to understand, but it has to be said," he answered.
"That's too bad, Phil, but before you go any further I'm afraid you're a little late with the message. I've done any crying I'm going to do and you'll get a note from me in the mail tomorrow, because I'm off to Jamaica tonight for a vacation and then I might try getting a job down there." Her words tumbled out of her larynx without any pre-thought to them and her voice, though often betraying a tremble, was transformed by the time it got through its electrical transmission at the other end, sounding impersonal and metallic.
"Well, I'm sorry it has to be like this, Shirl," he said, "but let me know where you are and maybe, in a little while...." his voice drifted off into silence.
"Yes, sure, thanks for calling. Oh yes, you'll find my notes from Friday's dictation in my top drawer," she added, trying to sound as business-like as possible.
"Yeah, thanks. Well, good-bye, have a good rest," and he hung up. At 4:30 that afternoon she boarded Trans-Central Airlines' Tropicana Flight non-stop for Montego Bay, Jamaica, and although the plane was by no means fully loaded a man of about fifty came and sat down beside her.
"I trust you won't see it as an imposition, my dear," said the well-dressed man politely. "But at my age I do so crave a little bit of company when I fly, especially when I find someone to talk to as pretty as you."
Shirley smiled a weak acknowledgment of his flattery. She didn't really want to talk, but there wasn't much option and anyway it would probably help keep her mind from dwelling on Phil. Her very dapper-looking companion turned out to be Mr. Gregory R. Jones, resident and in business in Boston, he said, with interests in Jamaica and elsewhere in the Caribbean. He started talking as though he would never leave off, asking questions about whether she was on vacation, where she worked, where she lived, until she began to wonder where he would stop! Luckily, an automatic break on his flow of questions arrived with the stewardess, who wanted to know if the rum punch special that went free with the flight was fine, or did they prefer something else. Shirley opted for the punch and Mr. Jones ordered a double martini. Thinking about its imminent arrival seemed to damn up his flow of questions.
She also looked forward to her drink, hoping it would dull some of the pangs she was having about leaving. Every throb of the plane's jets took her farther away from Phil and it was like a physical breaking. He had been such an integral part of her life for the past year, especially for the last six months, that it was hard for her to imagine what it was going to be like without him. She should put these thoughts out of her mind and concentrate on the future. In the circumstances, no good could come of harking back to the past. Here she was, bound for an exotic part of the world she'd never seen and perhaps a new way of life and a new love! She was still trying to feel optimistic about things when their drinks arrived.
The smile of the stewardess with which she handed Shirley her rum punch was a lot stronger than whatever measure of liquor had been mixed in with the orange, banana and pineapple segments garnishing the drink. The blonde vacationing secretary made a wry face and gave Mr. Jones' large cold martini an envious sidelong glance. He took a generous sip and put the glass down with a satisfied sigh.
"Now, young lady, I've been noticing you've not been at all looking happy. Is there something upsetting you?" Here were the questions starting again, but he couched his remarks so deferentially, with such a pleasant relaxed smile, that it was hard to feel any resentment.
"Thank you for trying to be so kind," she said, "but really it's nothing ... nothing I want to talk about."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to interfere." He lay an apologetic hand on her . forearm for an instant. "It's just that I have a niece about your age what are you, about nineteen, twenty? and I'd hate to see her get into such a state of mind."
She sat up a little straighter, smiled and apologized herself. "I'm an idiot, I didn't mean to be rude, but it's just that I'm running away from something and now I realize I'm taking it right along with me. Does that make sense?" [ He nodded and smiled affectionately at her. "All too much sense, I'm afraid," he agreed. "And the feeling is all too close to home. There's many a time I've tried to do the same thing put something out of mind by going somewhere, anywhere. But "out of sight, out of | mind" doesn't always work. It's a weakness of the human flesh to think it will work, so don't let it upset you too much." ; His words provided a little comfort, but unfortunately he didn't stop there, going on and on about this, that and the other thing, until she felt she would scream. Luckily, she was saved by the stewardess coming by again to ask about seconds, and this time Shirley accepted the older man's offer of buying her drink, and plumped for a double martini too.
Practically at the same time as the martinis were placed before them, another stewardess served their dinner trays. This also tended to keep the Boston businessman from talking for awhile, but once the meal was over and he was on to his third martini he seemed to become more friendly and relaxed than ever. She wondered whether it was her imagination but when he leaned close to talk above the engine noise she was sure he was actually staring very hard at the curve and cleavage of her young bosom and the tapering shapeliness of her legs, As she was herself halfway through enjoying the second martini he'd bought her, she figured that maybe she was being a little unfair to her loquacious fellow passenger and that if he wanted to stare at her and pat her hand occasionally then he had it coming to him. She wasn't exactly feeling any pain.
As the meal and the martinis relaxed her, Shirley began taking a deeper interest in what he had to say about their destination, Jamaica. It seemed he also had to travel the surrounding islands a great deal, visiting different clubs and vacation centers, his business being dealing in bar supplies. She didn't understand precisely what his connection was for he wasn't all that explicit, but he was certainly throwing some big names around, names she recognized from reports in the New York papers and magazines-wealthy people well publicized through their membership in the jet set. He mentioned some of the expensive hide-aways they frequented and the names of some of the bigger hotels at Kingston, Montego Bay, Runaway Bay and then asked her where she was staying for her vacation.
"Oh, it's a small place," she said, taking the travel folder out of her purse. "It's part of a package deal with the airline so I don't really know just that the price was right!" He said he recognized the hotel as soon as he opened the folder and that it was a nice place, very comfortable, and that in fact, he knew the manager there. If she wanted, he'd be happy to introduce her to the manager to make sure she got preferential treatment. Why didn't they do that when they landed, they could both go over to the Hotel Seychelles, see the manager, Mr. Delaplante, then he'd like to buy her a drink in the hotel bar.
"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that," she quickly replied. "You've been too good to me already and I mustn't take advantage of your kindness. Besides, there are probably many other things you have to attend to ... "
"That's quite beside the point, my dear, if I may be so rude as to interrupt you," he cut in. "It would be my pleasure to buy you a drink. You see, quite a few people in this neck of the woods owe me a good many favors and if you say you're looking for a job ultimately, after a bit of a vacation, then I may be able to give you a valuable pointer or two." He smiled warmly at her and casually let his hand fall on her knee, lightly, to give it a gentle pat. "There's that hotel of yours, too. It would only take a word from me to make sure you were very well looked after and your stay would be improved immeasurably." He took a sip of his martini and leaned a little closer to her ear. "There are undesirable elements to be found everywhere," he said confidingly, "and I wouldn't want anything further to upset you after all the aggravation you've been through by the sounds of it. By the way, is there anything at all my advice would be helpful with?"
Shirley now felt a glowing pleasure in this distinguished looking man's attentions. He was so friendly and had given no cause in the slightest for doubting his motives. He was old enough to be her father! Feeling she could trust him she recounted the tale of her association with Phil and the reason for her running away.
"I just had to get away! There was no way I could stand being in the same place, even a city the size of New York, without feeling I was going to bump into him at every turn or, worse still, see him out with somebody else somewhere. That would be just more than I could bear, so ... I guess, I'm just plain running away ... "
"We all run away sometimes," Mr. Jones said, giving her knee another gentle pat. "I'm sure that a change of pace and some new faces would be exactly the right medicine for you now. In fact, I'm going to personally make sure you have a good time."
They continued to chat for the rest of the trip, and she really was beginning to feel more at ease, especially with the martinis warming her thoughts. He asked her if she'd ever been to Boston and when she said "no" but she wanted to one day, he gave her a small white card from his wallet with "Gregory R. Jones" printed on it, and a telephone number and address. He wrote the name of his hotel on the back and said for her to call him up at any time if she got into difficulties or needed any advice. "It would be a pleasure to help such a pretty young girl like you," he said.
Shirley took the card and put it away in her pocketbook, thanking him for his trouble but thinking to herself that it would be very un-likely that she would ever use it. One of the stewardesses announced they should fasten their seat belts for the landing at Montego Bay, and warned the passengers they should be prepared for some turbulence as they were coming down on the edge of a storm moving off to the north and east of the island. Shirley recognized the noise of the aircraft's wheels being lowered and automatically tensed in her seat. It was not her favorite pastime, flying at any time, and she never failed to get increasingly nervous at the point when the plane was coming in for a landing. The prospect of a rough landing made her even more edgy. The plane suddenly dropped a hundred feet as it hit an air pocket and she reached out to grab the arms of the seat, but she over-reached, and her left hand plonked soundly in the lap of Mr. Jones. She withdrew her hand as though his pants front was red hot, apologizing profusely, and trying to regain some of her composure at the same time. He just laughed, saying, "That's the best omen for a good trip yet!" She wasn't too sure how to take his off-the-cuff remark, but she gave an embarrassed laugh and from there-on in until they touched down kept a firm grip of the arm rests to avoid another mishap.
"Whew!" she said at last as the plane's wheels settled comfortably on the runway and the tenseness drained out of her. "For a moment up there ... I guess I could do with that drink after all those last few minutes had me a little shaken."
"Sure, me too," Mr. Jones quickly agreed. "With only these few passengers customs should be a snap, then we'll immediately head over to your hotel and dive into a big one. Does that meet the need, my dear?"
She nodded her head in complete agreement, unclasped her seat belt and reminded herself she had some loose personal items stowed away on the overhead rack that she mustn't forget. Mr. Jones slid out of his seat first before the plane came to a standstill to give her room to reach up to the rack where her belongings were scattered. As she stretched up to get them, her skirt automatically rose higher on her thighs, revealing the soft, white flesh between her stocking tops and her tight panty briefs. The would-be Bostonian stared appreciatively at the young firm flesh and involuntarily sucked in a deep breath. Would I ever like to try that on for size! he thought lewdly, feeling a tightness grow in his loins as she stood on tiptoe giving him an even more all-inclusive view of her fully rounded thighs and buttocks.
The rain had stopped by the time they were deplaning and the first thing that hit her was the sensational fragrance of the air. She could smell the aroma of the wet foliage and flowers that grew in abundance all around the airport's perimeter, and it seemed to be such a fresh clean scent that her spirits were sent soaring and she felt suddenly mysteriously happy for no particular reason. They both cleared customs quickly and finding an ample supply of cabs they were soon on their way to the Hotel Seychelles. The cab weaved erratically along the narrow highway, dodging stray dogs and cats and even a goat or two that seemed to be running loose. The cabbie's driving caused her several times to grab for Mr. Jones' arm for additional support as she was swung from side to side, and she noticed that occasionally it seemed he couldn't prevent a hand apparently falling carelessly into her lap. Finally the cab pulled up outside a small building occupying one side of a square in the center of which stood a dilapidated bandshell. Mr. Jones looked at her, saying, "Welcome to the Hotel Seychelles!"
"It certainly doesn't look very elegant," she said disappointedly. The view from the front, she thought, left a lot to be desired in comparison with the way the travel folder photographs had pictured the place.
"Don't judge the hotel too quickly, my dear," Mr. Jones assured her. Getting out of the cab, he gave her a running commentary about how long the Seychelles had enjoyed a fine reputation and how he felt that she would be most comfortable and happy there. It doesn't matter, she said to herself, because she couldn't afford anything better anyway, so she might as well accept the situation gracefully. The interior of the hotel revived her spirits a little. It was a decided improvement on the exterior. The walls of the lobby were a clean white and the starkness of the decor was offset by small touches of light rose pink in the furnishings and furniture. A well-worn pinkish stone floor lent a cool air to the evening warmth.
The desk clerk smiled at them as they approached, revealing two bright gold teeth in the front of his mouth. His sparse fair hair was lighter than Shirley's and as she got closer she saw that he even sported a faint almost-invisible moustache. This turned out to be Mr. Delaplante, the manager, and he greeted the Bostonian businessman most effusively.
"Well, what a pleasure it is to see you again, Mr. Jones," he said, coming out from behind the desk to relieve them of their suitcases. "And to what reason do we owe the welcome duty of placing the Hotel Sechelles at your disposal. And the charming young lady, too!"
"Good to be back, Paul, even if it is strictly business that brings me. But this young lady, from New York, who I met on the plane, Miss Shirley Squires by name, is to be a guest in your hotel for all of two weeks. Ah! You recognize the name? Good! I want you to see that she gets nothing but the best the whole time she's here. Understand? And I want you to do something about a special rate for her room. Think you can do that?"
The ingratiating Paul couldn't nod his head in agreement fast enough. "Certainly, for you, Mr. Jones, it will be nothing but a pleasure. But can we do nothing for you on this occasion?"
"No, Paul, I'll be staying closer to where I've got business to do." Mr. Jones lifted his finger suddenly. "But there is one thing you can do for me while I'm here, and that's have your barman mix us two of the Seychelles specials. And join us in one yourself."
With a smile, Mr. Jones turned again to the much-impressed nineteen year old blonde and, taking her arm, led her in the direction Delaplane had scuttled off to order the drinks. "Paul is a friend of mine from some years ago," Mr. Jones told her on the way to the bar. "I met him in Cuba and when the revolution came, I helped him escape and found him a job here, so I'm sure you will be well looked after."
"You've been so kind, I don't know how to repay you," she said, as they sat at one of the small tables in the bar.
"Just you have a good time, and when you're ready, I'll find you a job also, so don't worry and try to relax and enjoy the sun. I'm sure you'll have plenty of beach time." Paul, the manager, came back with the arrival of their drinks, borne on a tray by the barman, a hulking young man whose very mixed parentage was evidenced by the combination of bright carroty-red hair and yellowish-brown skin. "Ah, here are our 'specials'," Mr. Jones said.
"What's in a 'special'?" she asked.
Paul sat down with a little bow, saying, "That's a trade secret! But I'm sure you'll like it, Miss Squires." Shirley regarded the glass dubiously, although its contents looked very similar to the rather watery rum punch she'd been given on the plane. As she lifted the drink to her lips hesitantly, Mr. Jones quickly raised his glass also, saying, "And here's to a most wonderful vacation for you."
She tasted the 'special' cautiously, and was surprised that it didn't taste at all bad. There was certainly more to it than the airline's concoction. It was made with a fruit base but had a rather intriguing licorice taste which she couldn't quite place, perhaps a pastis or anisette. It was certainly thirst-quenching and refreshing, and that's what she needed right now. .
The hotel manager and Mr. Jones began rehashing old times and Shirley let the words wash over her without really paying any attention to the meaning, quite content to relax quietly for a few minutes and get herself adjusted to her new surroundings. Her drink went down very smoothly, and when she had finished, Mr. Jones motioned to the barman to bring another round.
Paul asked her if she'd ever been to Jamaica before, and launched into some details of local places of interest to visit when he found out this was her first time on the island. She told him she didn't want to go back to New York if she could avoid it and would be using part of her two weeks' vacation to look for a job, if it were possible to find one. Mr. Jones and Paul exchanged a knowing look and assured her that a girl as attractive as she would likely have no trouble locating employment in some branch probably of the tourist industry and that they would both do all they could to help her get started. She thought to herself how lucky to have found two such willingly helpful people.
She was nearly through her second drink when she began to feel suddenly sleepy, and she told the two men that perhaps she should go to her room now, unpack and get a good night's sleep. Her "friends" insisted that the night was still young yet and convinced her that she could at least stay up for one more of the 'specials'. Once again, the giant barman with the mop of red hair placed before her the beautifully-garnished drink and, although she didn't really feel she needed another, sipped on it slowly.
Her eyes were really playing her tricks now, and she could hardly keep them open, they felt so heavy-lidded. When she glanced up, she found both of the men at the table staring at her, and she tried to mumble an apology about being such bad company, but her tongue was thick and the words didn't come out right. In the background of her mind, she could still hear their conversation, but her head was so clouded that it was hard to distinguish what they were saying. She tried to get up from her chair, but her legs were like sponge and she was unable to stand up, much less walk. Her eyes were slowly closing and she could feel herself slipping off into a pleasant lethargy, where nothing mattered any more except sleep.
This time the two men stared and then nodded at each other in agreement, Paul signaling again for the barman to come over.
"I think we'll put the young lady in room twenty, Fredrico. Please carry her up there and we'll follow shortly," Paul said. With an evil leer and a deferential bow of the head, the huge Fredrico made his way round to the chair in which the drugged blonde was slumped in sleep and, picking her up as though she were a feather, carried her out of the bar to the elevator.
"She'll probably sleep soundly for half an hour or so," Mr. Jones said. "But then when she wakes up she'll be climbing the walls!"
Paul shook his head slowly. "I don't know how you do it, Jones," he said admiringly. "I just don't know how you do it."
The two men, laughing and chuckling, took their time finishing their drinks and then followed Fredrico up to room twenty, taking the girl's suitcase with them. Fredrico had put her on the bed and hadn't bothered to pull down her skirt which was riding well above her hips, revealing her stockinged legs, the firm pale flesh above the stockings, the straps of her garter belt and her thin, white bikini panties.
"So, a really leggy one this time," Paul said, licking his lips and flicking the unconscious girl's skirt another inch or so above her rounded buttocks. "A beautiful figure and so young!"
Fredrico left the room so that the two men could be alone with their captive, because he knew that he was only allowed to sample the girls after Jones and Delaplante had finished or when they wanted to watch the look of horror strike a girl's face as she realized she was about to be taken by a cruel hulking stud like Fredrico.
The two men rolled the unknowing blonde over on the bed so that she lay fully stretched out on her back and then unbuttoned the tailored silk blouse she wore and pulled it back from her shoulders. She was not wearing a slip so they could see the high fullness of the white flesh of her breasts pushing above the flimsy material of her brassiere. Both gasped for breath as they looked down at the helpless sensuous girl who was now completely at their disposal.
The clean gold of her blonde hair curled around her shoulders and covered the pillow framing her young innocent face. Her features were firm and regular with just a suggestion of perspiration moisture lightly beading immediately above her upper lip. A deep but gentle breathing slightly tightened the brassiere's material across her breasts every few seconds. Her body was slim, firm and well-proportioned, and the two men were devouring her young form with their eyes when Paul broke the silence.
"I'd like to take her right now while she's sleeping, I've never .done that!" he said sadistically. "Why do that When she will be more than ready for us when she wakes up?" Jones asked. "It won't take long for the absinthe to take effect and Fredrico knew only to put a slight sedative in her last two drinks, so try to be patient!"
Paul sighed. "Very well, but it does seem like such a waste somehow ... all that beauty and no one loving her. She's a creature who should be loved all the time Jesus! I can't wait to screw the ass off her!"
The impatient Paul went down to the bar for more drinks while the older man stayed to continue his scrutiny of his nubile prize from the comfort of an armchair. Occasionally, he would lean forward to let a hand wander lightly over the full firm curves of her body. He settled back in his chair as Paul offered him a fresh drink from the tray the manager had brought back upstairs, and then watched closely as his companion's fingers took over from where he'd left off. Paul ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, but more roughly than Jones, and she stirred slightly under his touch, still completely unaware, however, of what was happening or about to happen. Paul slowly slid his fingertips off the edge of the stocking tops of her nylons and over the smooth creaminess of the bare skin of her upper thighs until his fingers again touched fabric, the material of her bikini panties. He pressed down with one hand under the tight elastic leg band encompassing one of her thighs and pushed his fingers inside until he could feel the soft fleshiness of the warm outer lips of her vagina.
"Oh Christ! I can't hardly wait for this piece of ass," he gasped, his sparse greasy fair hair falling out of place in his agitation. "Her little pussy is the tightest!" He felt his cock lurch expectantly under his pants and the constricting tightness in his loins was growing painful.
Jones laughed. "Be careful," he warned, "or you'll cum before you ever see her pussy quite a waste!" Paul abruptly snapped back his exploring' hand from under the tiny triangle of cloth protecting the blonde's crotch. "Well, I know one thing," he said, breathing heavily. "I'm stripping her right now, stripping her to her bra and panties ... and I'm going to take it slowly."
The excited manager was as good as his word, his deliberate, lascivious undressing of the girl bringing out the beads of sweat on Jones' forehead as well as his own. He was trembling from the exertion of his manipulations of the girl's helpless body by the time he had disrobed her down to bra and panties.
For about another ten minutes the two men sat silently drinking in the sight of the almost naked young girl as she gently moaned and stirred. Then there was a slow opening of her eyes and a bewildered staring around her at the strange surroundings of the room in which she was awakening. Her vision was blurred and she didn't recognize the two men, though she knew the voice when Paul said, "She's coming around, just a few more minutes."
She tried to raise herself on one elbow, but she was feeling too weak and was unable to support the weight of her body. Her vision blurred even more and she felt hands on her naked skin forcing her back and down onto the bed.
"Whhaaaat's going on?" she asked with what seemed a great effort. The blurred vision went away and she began to get things more in focus, the outlines of the two figures standing above her slowly turning into identifiable persons. She realized it must have been the two men who had taken off her clothes and she tried to cover herself by drawing the bed's coverlet around her, but someone pulled it from her feeble grasp and she again fell back, helpless and whimpering.
"Well, Paul," Jones said, "your time has come, I would think she's all yours." He moved to the door. "I'll check back with you in the morning to see how it was, but I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. And don't say I never do anything for you!"
Paul was now sitting on the bed, slowly running his hands over her body and she found that she didn't have the strength to resist his urgent caresses. He had stripped to his underwear and she could see the gigantic bulge rising underneath his shorts and knew that she did not have the power to struggle against him. She could feel his fingers fumbling for the hooks of her brassiere as he pulled it away from her body, revealing her ripe full mounds beneath. He caressed the bare flesh of her breast, pinching cruelly at the tender, pink nipples until they stood out firm and erect. His mouth and tongue were tracing a pattern from her neck to the sensitive area of her inexplicably throbbing breasts and she could feel an involuntary tightness growing in her loins. But how can I be reacting to this filthy animal, she thought, but nevertheless her body was behaving counter to her mind's instructions and she could feel the desire begin to grow with each new impudent caress of this strange man. He continued his insistent mouthing of her full breasts while she lay stock-still, uncooperative. She felt his hands busy themselves unhooking the clasps of her garter belt and pushing her stockings down her legs until they hung limply from her ankles. His fingers forced their way inside the tight elastic of her thin panties and she felt his hand slip between her thighs and begin to explore the soft hair-lined lips and his thumb and forefinger pinched and teased at the hard erect bud of her clitoris, and she began to involuntarily move her hips under his insistenttouch. She didn't want to react but the absinthe was beginning to take effect and her desire was mounting in spite of her revulsion and half-conscious confusion about what was going on. She could feel his fingers probing at the slightly dampened opening of her vagina and he quickly slipped a finger up inside her to stroke the smooth wet walls of the unprotected passage. She could feel her loins contracting in spite of herself and she suddenly found her body becoming more and more excited regardless of how obnoxious she found this strange greasy man. His rigid penis was also throbbing with excitement and she could feel it working its way between her thighs, prodding for the opening in her pelvis.
Then, as the sedative she had been given wore off even more, her desire increased and she now found herself wanting to be taken by this horrible man. She couldn't understand what was making her feel this way! God, before she'd never wanted anybody else but Phil ... but now ... now ... her hands wandered slowly over his back as he raised his body and moved over between her widely spread legs and she levered her thighs apart even more to give him greater access to her burning loins.
"Yes indeed, spread them wide, my dear," he whispered urgently. "I knew it was only a matter of time and you'd start loving old Paul. In a few minutes you'll be begging me for it, and you're going to get it, but you will have to wait until I'm good and ready. I want to see you buck and writhe your little ass off in desperation before I give it to you. Then I'm going to fuck you silly!"
The coarseness of his language seemed to raise her excitement to new heights and she dug her nails hard into the back of his buttocks trying to force him inside her, but he raised his hips until his fully erect cock was lying nervously against her stomach.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she pleaded piteously. "Why?"
He didn't answer her question, merely biting cruelly into her hardened nipple, making her cry out in pain and clutch wildly at the quivering breast. "Aaaaaaarrgh!" she groaned. "Stop! Please! You're hurting me ... hurting me!" But he persisted in his sadistic nibbling until she was writhing in pain beneath him. She ran her hands harshly down his back, hoping that she was drawing blood so that he would stop, but he just laughed at her.
"You can't hurt me, baby, I love it! I love a wildcat in bed!" The pressure in her loins was building to a feverish climax and she ached for him to be inside her, to push deep up into the softness of her belly until she was filled and gorged as she never had been before.
"Why, why don't you just take me?" she moaned. "Take me and get it over with." But he ignored her pleas and continued to tease her erotic areas until she thought she would scream with want and need.
"Not so fast, baby," he said. "We've got all night and I've plenty in mind for you. I'll teach you tricks you never even knew existed." He brought his mouth down onto her stomach, tickling her smooth sensitive skin teasingly with the wetness of his tongue.
She tried to force her hips upwards to meet his mouth and suddenly she found to her horror her own hands were tearing at the flimsy white bikini panties to get them off her so that he could have full access to her inflamed body.
His breath came from his laboring lungs in raking gasps as he tried to control his own passion so that he could make her wait, because he knew that the waiting would be torturing her and his final entry that much more triumphant.
She fumbled desperately at her panties when suddenly his hand caught hers and ripped them off her in one quick jerk, so that now she lay naked beneath his own nude body. His mouth lowered on her belly until she could feel the hot dampness of his tongue between her spread thighs as it searched for the tiny erect clitoris and licked it furiously until she was jerking under his mouthing in wanton abandon.
"Oh God, fuck me ... please fuck me," she begged. "I can't take it any more, you're killing me!"
"Everything in due time, baby," the sweating hotel manager gasped. "You have to be so hot, baby ... so hot you won't know which end is up when I ram it to you."
She reached down for the small of his back in an effort to pull him on top of her but his hands were forcing her thighs so far apart that she could not reach him. She didn't know that the absinthe they had given her would affect her this way, and yet, now, she didn't care how or why she was feeling this way. She just wanted to be fucked and fucked again until she couldn't stand it any more. She was only aware that she had never felt this way before, not even with Phil, and her mind whirled, wondering what strange thing had come over her, but the thought passed as quickly as it had come ... it didn't matter.
He sucked harshly at the tender lips of her vagina which was now wet and open with uncontrolled passion and she ground her pelvis furiously under his lips and darting tongue. She was so ready that she thought she would burst if he kept up the delicious sucking torture down there between her writhing open legs much longer.
She had to have it! She had to have it! Now! But she could not reach him to pull him to her and instead forced her own fingers down to pull and tease at the tender pulsating flesh of her clitoris herself, trying desperately to manipulate herself to a climax along with his probing tongue, but he forced her hands aside roughly. She groaned in wild-eyed frustration and clasped her palms to her quivering breasts pinching her nipples masochistically into hard throbbing erectness until they hurt ... hurt with an all-consuming, bizarre pleasure.
Finally, when she thought she could stand the lewd teasing of her body no longer he crawled up on her until his knees straddled her heaving belly and his throbbing phallus lay between the softness of the white quivering mounds of her breasts.
"Now you're going to return the favor," he said, cruelly forcing her mouth open. Before she could gag on his levering fingers he shoved the bulbous purple head of his cock between her lips and rammed almost the entire length of his penis shaft deep into the back of her throat. He was now kneeling over her head so that he could rise and fall with her lustful sucking of his hard thick organ.
"Suck it good, baby," he groaned. "Suck it like it's never been sucked before! Oooooohhh yes, baby, that's it!" Her lips working furiously, she drew on the huge jerking length while her tongue lasciviously circled the blunt throbbing head each time he skewered deep into the warm moist cavern of her mouth. He was so large it vas difficult for her to catch her breath, and her eyes were suddenly wide with fear as she looked up into the manager's evil face. He seemed to be delighting in the fact that his manhood was too much for her to take all at once, and with each thrust he tried to force his gigantic prick farther into her throat until she felt as though he were trying to ram it all the way down into her belly. She nibbled hungrily trying with all her soul to please as best she knew how she knew he would have it no other way!
At last he felt as though he would be unable to take any more of her uninhibited wild sucking or he would cum right there in her mouth, so he slowly withdrew and lowered himself onto her body once more.
Her legs were spread-eagled on the bed, yawning wide in lewd surrender to receive him as she felt the thick pulsing knob of his cock push against the wet hot opening of her vagina.
She could feel him move it slowly up and down to part the soft resilient pubic flesh there and her excitement grew.
She had to have it! God, she had to have it!
He teased her mercilessly, pushing his throbbing penis inside her aching passage just slightly, then withdrawing until she was bucking up against him in a wild, uncontrolled fury.
"God! Don't make me wait any longer, I can't stand it ... fuck me ... fuck me now ... NOW!" she moaned in the heat of her uncontrollable passion. She tried to force him to go deeper into her, but he held her fast, with a hand curving around each hip while his fingers pressed hard into the elastic white flesh of her abdomen. He moved into her like a series of ripples of water, each time growing larger and sinking farther into her. She gasped and squirmed, totally impaled, and with a final deep-throated grunt of surrender she pulled her knees back tightly into her chest. His thighs were hot and hairy along the undersides of hers and she could feel the softness of his balls swinging down hard against her upturned anus, as he pummeled deeper and deeper into her. He seemed to fill the whole of her belly, up through her breasts and out into her throat. Phil had never filled her that way and she didn't know that any man could be built so big or drive her so insane from sheer lust and desire like this.
Her back began to ache from the pressure of his hands on her waist, but the pressure that was building up inside her was greater. She knew that she was about to cum ... he was going to make her cum ... soon ...!
"Oooooooohhh yes ... do It now ... NOW, yes! I'M GOING TO CUM!" she shouted as he plowed deeper and deeper into her with each thrust. He was beginning to feel that he was going to burst, like a balloon that had been blown up too full, and he wanted to fill her with his sperm deep into her belly. She twisted frantically under him as she began to convulse with her own climax. He could feel the walls of her vagina contract violently against the thick hardness of his driving cock, and he could feel his own climax start at the base of his balls and shudder through him like a bursting rocket.
"Here it is, baby ... I'm cumming ... now!" he gasped as he lunged hard between her legs and shot his warm liquid semen deep up into her still convulsing womb.
Then, with a deep guttural grunt of satisfaction, he fell on top of her in an exhausted heap, not moving for several minutes as she continued to moan out the last desperate strains of her own orgasm beneath him. He lay still, listening with triumphant satisfaction to her small breathless gasps of satiation, and then waited until her breathing became more regular and even. When he was sure she had fallen into deep sleep he quickly dressed and went back downstairs into the bar.
"Is it a good piece of tail, boss?" asked Fredrico the barman eagerly.
"Maybe you'll find out how good yourself, someday, if you're lucky," answered the elated manager. "I think she'll just be a great addition to our stable. A real tiger of a filly!"
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning Shirley didn't know what had hit her. She ached and she was bruised all over, but no memory of the wild sexual abuse her body had taken from Delaplante the manager surfaced from her sub-conscious. She didn't even remember that she'd been drugged. She had a hazy recollection of making violent love to some man, and it disturbed her that she couldn't even remember what the man had looked like. She put this down to the large number of drinks she'd consumed before going to bed, and wondered who it could have been that she must have met at the last moment before leaving the bar. Before making the big effort to get out of bed to get ready for breakfast she couldn't help chuckling at one thought at least she would be spared any embarrassment if she ever ran into the man again, for she couldn't for the life of her bring any of his features to mind! But she knew she shouldn't really laugh the situation off this way, her strict Mid-West upbringing telling her that it truly wasn't a laughing matter. Here she'd been away from Phil for barely three days, carefully staying a virgin until she met him, and now already she'd let a total stranger make love to her ... make love to her, hell, she told herself. He just plain fucked me! She grimaced. It was hard for her to believe, but, the bruises around her breasts and around the tops of her thighs certainly told of no other story bar a sexual encounter of animal-like frenzy nothing like she had ever experienced with Phil.
From the edge of the bed she walked painfully to the shower. Perhaps cold water would work a miracle. Surely it would at least clear her head so she could get the night more into focus perhaps remember the man's name anyway.
The cold water idea turned out to be a bust when, for however long she seemed to run it, it never got any cooler than tepid. It also tended to dribble down from the shower nozzle rather than gush out. Ah well, you can't have everything, she said to herself, wrapping herself in a towel and moving over to the open window where warm sun poured in and she could hear the noisy cries from the square below. Maybe she'd feel better after breakfast. Swiftly donning underclothes, plus a pair of yellow slacks and a casual shirt-type blouse she could tie in a knot beneath her breasts, Shirley painfully made her way to the elevator and the dining room. Maybe it was the booze, she chastised herself. I haven't been eating properly the last few days and perhaps it hit me unusually hard. Unbelievable!
As she walked past the desk, Paul Delaplante called over. "Hi, Miss Squires. Good to see you again on this beautiful morning. You must have slept well, you're looking fabulous!"
She smiled back at him. "Thank you. Yes, I slept very well, but I still reel a bit shaky. Perhaps one too many drinks!"
"Yes, that's the danger always one too many can be our downfall." Once again the absinthe had done its job beautifully, thought the two-faced hotelier. Not only does it soften up the victim, it also blots out all memory of the assault! He gestured expansively in the direction of the dining room, saying, "I'm sure the chef will prepare a marvelous breakfast for you, to disperse the blues, Miss Squires. And then we hope to see you your usual lively self."
She did indeed order a large breakfast, plus generous servings of coffee, and was almost finished and feeling much better when Mr. Jones made his appearance. "Well," he said with a broad smile as he approached, "you certainly do seem bright and beautiful this morning. It must be the sun working its magic already. Makes the snow of New York seem a very long way away, doesn't it?"
He sat down beside her and ordered a coffee from a passing waiter. "I'm afraid I couldn't have been much company for you last night. Did I flake out?" she asked when he turned back to her.
"Oh no, my dear, nothing as drastic as that. I can't blame you if you have difficulty remembering about going up to your room. You were exhausted, and I suppose I must hold myself partly accountable for that, I'm afraid. I should have insisted on your retiring earlier."
She assured him that he shouldn't feel guilty about anything and poured the last of her pot of coffee into her cup. As his coffee arrived, he asked her what her plans were for today. "Nothing in particular," she answered. "Perhaps a walk over to Doctors Cove, then I thought I'd take a look at the market here and do some shopping maybe go to the beach later on. Why?"
"No special reason just thought you might appreciate an old man's company. And I'd be happy to act as your guide." He patted her on her knee. "We mustn't have you getting lost on your first day here, besides, I'd like to introduce you to some of my friends. Maybe we can even line up a job for you so you won't have to worry about going back to that wintry climate."
"That would almost be too good to be true but I'd love to have your company. Where shall we start?" She just couldn't refuse him, he was being so nice, and it would be fantastic if he could find her a job.
"I think the marketplace is a part of town you'd find most interesting and colorful," he said after a pause. "There's a little club nearby Club Candida that's a favorite of mine. We could go on to there for lunch and cocktails. After that, I'll leave the program open and we'll play it by ear, shall we?"
"Sounds like a perfect morning," she said, pushing back her chair. "Just let me run upstairs for my pocketbook and then I'll be all ready." While she was away, the manager Delaplante slid quickly over to Jones' side to whisper that everything was set up at the Marimba Club and that she would be offered a job, but not to go there until later in the evening. They laughed quietly between the two of them about the performance that the previous night had seen and the friendly Mr. Jones said, "You know, I can't wait to get at it myself, but you have all the luck this time, it was your turn to go first!"
The vacationing blonde was back downstairs within a few minutes and they left the hotel and walked out into the heat of the tiny cobbled square and headed in the general direction of the market.
After the quiet of the hotel's location, the noise and crowds of the marketplace hit her ears and eyes almost painfully. Her eyes gradually got used to being assaulted every which way she turned by the most garish combinations of colors imaginable, on clothes, awnings, store fronts and even trucks and cars. But the din of traffic trying to navigate a passage through the crowds and hawkers vying one with the other to shout the loudest left her mind a little benumbed. Startled at one point by an approaching goat that had somehow broken loose from its pen and was letting out frightened throaty screeches every few seconds, she just stopped in her tracks and put her hands over her ears. Mr. Jones saw the motion and quickly signaled her to follow him into a quiet alleyway.
"I should remember the noise is always raucous in that part of the market," he said.
"This section will still give you all the mementoes you may want to see, but without suffering." She followed him along the narrow lane until they reached a broader street that had room for stalls on either side. Here, colorfully dressed Jamaicans sold baskets, pocketbooks and straw figures, animal and human, that they made by hand. Most of the vendors were women, although plenty of men seemed to be hovering in the background, or talking together in tight little groups gathered against the walls of buildings. An impromptu dance seemed to have started outside one small shop specializing in radio the music of a local steel band combination blared from the shop's open doorway. Mr. Jones stepped inside another tiny shop about half a block farther along.
"Why, hello there, Mr. Jones," said a black-skinned older woman who appeared from the rear of the store. "This is my lucky day, I do declare. You haven't shown your face in these parts for a dog's age. And with a young lady friend a pretty girl for an old goat like you!"
"Now, now, Carrie," laughed Mr. Jones, "flattery .will get you nowhere! I'm doing my Eagle Scout act today, and showing Miss Squires here where to come to buy a few souvenirs. Trying to do a favor, in fact."
"Well fancy that now," said the big, cheerful woman, clapping her hands in mock horror. "He brings poor old Carrie a paying customer an' she insults the man! Whatever will she do next?" At that, Carrie gave him a slow, deliberate wink and Mr. Jones burst out laughing. Shirley smiled shyly but wondered what the exaggerated wink meant. Mr. Jones seemed to know some really gay people, and most had either a wink or a nudge to give him as they passed by. Maybe it was just the local way of behaving, she didn't know, but it was beginning to strike her as very strange.
Carrie moved past them to the front of the store and took a small straw horse from a pile in a basket near the door. "That's for you, Miss Squires," she said, handing it to Shirley. "It's got the name and address of the shop on it so's you can find us again when you want to pick up a thing or two perhaps, to take home to friends." The Jamaican turned again to the middle-aged businessman. "As for that friend of yours there," she pointed in stern reproof, "oh, he's a bad'un, a real bad lot better watch out for him!" And she opened her big eyes wide, as though terrified.
"Oh, you're incorrigible," Mr. Jones exclaimed, laughing and giving the big woman in the brightly-colored ankle-length robes a slap on the bottom as he pushed past her to go out of the shop doorway. "Incorrigible Carrie, I think we'll have to call you. I'm not going to thank you for blackening my character don't let her take you in, Shirley!"
"Why does everybody wink at you?" she couldn't help asking as soon as they were out again in the sunshine and the hot street. "Wink? It's because you're such a pretty girl, I suppose. I think they get a kick out of seeing an old fuddy-duddy like me escorting such a blooming rose, it appeals to the hot-blooded temperament of the island people to make a romance out of such a scene. Don't be offended by it there are many facets of life here which are totally different to anything you've grown up with back home. Mainly, it's just a different outlook on life they try to make day-to-day living a much more lighthearted business here than in our gray northern cities. You know when in Rome, do as the Romans do!"
The impeccably-dressed Bostonian smiled at her and then checked the time by his watch. They had strolled into another, quieter square, losing the raucous cries of the marketplace as they slowly put more distance behind them. This square seemed mainly occupied by cafes and restaurants.
"I know it's only just on noon," said her guide, "but we're practically on the doorstep of the lunch place I was telling you about the Club Candida. Shall we eat now? This way we'll have time for a leisurely cocktail. People start lunch very early in this part of the world."
Shirley smiled at him. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do!" she answered gaily. They crossed the square to a gateway in a ten or twelve foot high ancient stone wall that opened onto a pleasantly tree secluded courtyard filled with tubs of flowers and flowering shrubs that were set between white-painted tables and chairs.
"Oh, this is quaint, and so cool," Shirley said. "I love those little white statues in the greenery. With funny faces. Are they what you call 'gargoyles'?"
"Something like that," answered Mr. Jones, choosing a table tucked away behind some huge vivid red blooms. Almost before they were seated, a waiter in a white coat and black tie was hovering deferentially at Mr. Jones' elbow. The American ordered rum drinks and offered Shirley a cigarette. Her hangover had how completely worn off and she was really feeling fine, except for the fact that she still wondered who in the world had been her lover of the previous night.
The drink came tall, with lots of ice, and she fairly gulped down the cool potion, saying, "You can hardly taste the rum in this. After those 'specials' last night, I'm not sure I could stand too strong a taste of liquor today."
"The rum is very smooth, but very potent," Mr. Jones said. "Be careful how you take them I wouldn't want to have to carry you home." She sat back shaded by banana trees feeling completely relaxed and thoroughly enjoying her companion's company. It was surprising that she'd ever been nervous around him. He had such a pleasant disposition.
They finished their first drinks and ordered another round before they even began to think of food.
"May I recommend an island specialty?" Mr. Jones asked.
"When in Rome ... but just so long as it isn't like one of those specialties of the hotel bar!"
"Oh no, this is crayfish, or the local version of our lobster. Something like a Florida lobster, if you've ever seen one." She nodded her head. "They do it here cold, in a delicious salad. I think you'll enjoy it."
The salad when it arrived exceeded her expectations. The lobster, or crayfish, wasn't to be seen when the dish was first placed before her, but it was there when she started eating in succulent, mouth-watering chunks.
In the middle of their meal the waiter brought more drinks and faintly, as though from some blocks away, Shirley could hear the strains of island music start up. "I think I'm really beginning to get the feel of this place," she confided as she finished her last mouthful and took another of his cigarettes he offered. "The atmosphere is so relaxed no hustle or bustle. I think I could really grow to like it here."
"Well, then, my dear," Mr. Jones answered quietly. "We must give that job of yours some thought. No good leaving it to the last moment." He pulled on his cigarette and she waited expectantly. "Of course, secretarial jobs are really out, there's just no permission to be had on that score, with enough qualified Jamaicans to fill all the employment available. But the tourist business is something else againcigarette girl, cocktail waitress."
"Well, I can't claim I've had any experience in those jobs," she answered. "But I'm more than willing to learn, if you know anybody who'd give me a chance." He pretended to think for a moment. "There is a club," he said at last. "The Marimba Club. Not too far out of town, and I do know the manager. Perhaps we could take a drive over there tonight? How would that suit you?"
The young blonde agreed that it was fine by her, as long as it didn't interfere with his plans. He suggested she return to the hotel now, it wasn't more than six or seven blocks away. He had some business to transact and she could take a siesta, ready for the evening's outing.
"I'll pick you up at six," he said. "We can have a leisurely dinner at one of the hotels here and then, on to the Marimba. It's one of the local clubs, but with a difference it's got style and I think you'll find it interesting."
Mr. Jones paid the bill and they strolled out from beneath the cool courtyard vegetation into the hot street again. He indicated the direction she should go for the Hotel Seychelles and pointed out the street he was taking.
"And don't forget," he added. "The evenings can be pretty chilly sometimes, so you'll need something a bit dressier if that lovely figure is to avoid severe attacks of goose bumps!" He patted her bare arm and smiled before turning away, saying, "See you at six ... "
CHAPTER FOUR
Back at the hotel, she stopped by the desk to check whether there were any messages. She didn't really expect anything, but....
"Unfortunately, no, Miss Squires," Paul Delaplante answered, his two glinting gold teeth turning his smile into a lecherous-seeming leer. "Were you expecting anything in particular. Sometimes our mail ... "
"No. No, nothing that I know of. Just thought I'd check that's all. Thank you." It was the first time all day she'd actually thought about the possibility of Phil getting in touch. When she'd talked to Mr. Jones, everything had been in the past tense. Now, all of a sudden, she was thinking of the future again. There was no future with Phil, period. She had to get that through her head. Otherwise she'd never be able to make herself get over him.
Mr. Jones was punctual, arriving on the dot of six. He knocked on the door of her room just as she was finishing the last touch to her make-up. In his hand as she opened the door he held an orchid.
"Oh, that's lovely," she exclaimed, as he came in and presented the small delicate-looking blossom to her. "I'm just about ready just get a wrap and my pocketbook."
"You look ravishing, my dear," Mr. Jones said. He spoke a trifle huskily, with great deliberation, and she wondered if he'd been drinking. She stood in front of the mirror to quickly fasten the orchid to her dress, then grabbed the wrap and her purse. He stood aside to let her through the doorway but she was close enough she could smell the rum on his breath.
Leaving the elevator, he suggested they visit the bar to have drinks there, extending the invitation to Paul also as they passed the desk. "But with the greatest pleasure, Mr. Jones," said the ingratiating hotelier, darting from behind the desk with alacrity. "And may I say, Miss Squires, how beautiful you are. A gorgeous dress, if I may say so. I only wish I were the lucky man taking you out to dinner tonight."
"Paul, why don't you join us later on?" Mr. Jones asked the manager as they settled themselves on stools at the bar. "We're looking in at the Marimba Club after our meal. That's not too far for you, is it? Why don't we all meet up there?"
Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Fredrico and ordered three 'specials'. Shirley shot him a glance, wanting to interrupt for a moment to change her 'special' to something less volatile, but Paul broke in with his quick agreement that Mr. Jones' proposal was a "good idea".
"And I do think that dress suits you, Miss Squires," he went on, giving her the once-over for a second time, only this time from closer range. "There's no doubt who'll be the belle of the ball."
Fredrico, too, when he brought their drinks, licked his lips as he leered at her across the bar. It felt as if he were stripping her with his eyes. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn this dress, she thought, it is cut rather low, and I suppose it does look like an invitation, but I have a good figure and I don't think it is out of place. Still, he has no need to look at me like that, though!
She sipped her 'special' very slowly and carefully at first, and then was surprised to notice that it tasted quite a bit different from the one she had last night. Perhaps I was tireder last night, but it's funny, that licorice taste isn't there any more. She thought of asking Mr. Jones about it but he was deep in conversation with Paul. She shrugged. Actually, tonight's drink tasted far better than what she'd been given before, so why complain.
Mr. Jones brought her into the conversation with some questions about her home life in the Mid-West and now it was Paul's turn to drool in his drink as he stared at her body, undressing her with his eyes. His gaze was really too familiar and she felt as though she were sitting there completely naked. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, she pretended she'd finished her drink and suggested that they go for dinner.
They had to wait for a cab as the Carib Palace Hotel at which he had made a reservation for dinner was on the other side of Montego Bay. Paul seemed to do a lot of shouting on the phone in some dialect she couldn't understand before he replaced the receiver and reported that a cab was on its way. The prospect of additional delay struck Mr. Jones as an excellent chance for another drink and he led the way back to the bar over Shirley's protestations. It appeared to her that he was flying quite high enough as it was, without taking on more. But he was right about the delay the cab was "on its way" for about ten minutes, and in that time he put back another two drinks.
The dinner, in the plush surroundings of the Carib Palace Hotel turned out to be delicious, and all her worst fears about the inebriation of Mr. Jones developing to an obnoxious stage of behavior either toward her or anybody else turned out to be completely groundless. He couldn't have been more of a gentleman, and his courtliness increased once they had finished the first course and the food had taken the edge off his slight lightheadedness. He became very concerned about how well she was enjoying the meal and whether everything was to her satisfaction.
"This is not a French wine," he explained at one point. "There's much too much snobbery involved in the adoration so-called experts claim for the wine of France half the vintners are well aware they're dealing in adulterated products, I'm sure." He replenished her glass from the bottle of white wine he'd ordered for their fish course and showed her the name on the label. It was a wine from Chile. "One of my favorites," he said.
"The ride up into the hills to the Marimba Club will be a little rough," he warned her as they waited for a cab after eventually finishing their relaxing dinner. "The road isn't exactly a four-lane highway."
She was glad he'd warned her, for the car lurched from one side of the road to the other as though blown about by a tempestuous maverick wind. The driver's zig-zag course around the yawning holes threw the young blonde repeatedly against the legs and body of the older man, and after attempting a couple of apologies for bumping into him she gave up he certainly didn't seem to mind their being continuously jolted up against one another.
They arrived shaken but unharmed before the glaring lights of the Marimba Club and heard the blaring island music coming from inside the racket of the cab's noisy engine. A grinning black-skinned doorman in bright crimson short-sleeved shirt, Bermuda shorts and tassled fez greeted them, and inside the music became deafening. A small foyer with a cloakroom proceeded entry into the curtained-off main room beyond, but already the intensity of the steel band sound made talking practically useless. "I think you'll enjoy the native entertainment here," he yelled in her ear as a sort of maitre d' led them to a table.
The main floor show seemed to be over for the members of the steel band disappeared once they'd finished their number and the spotlights went out. From pitch black, the auditorium of the club became dimly lit as hundreds of tiny lights began flickering on and off on the ceiling. The work of a lone guitarist standing off to one side of the low platform at one end of the room permitted conversation to start up again. Mr. Jones had no sooner ordered drinks of a waiter than a squat bald-headed man about the same age as the Bostonian hurried over to the table.
"Ah, Carl, there you are," Mr. Jones said with a smile. "And this is the young lady I was telling you about this afternoon on the phone. Shirley Squires. Isn't she pretty? Shirley, I'd like you to meet the manager of the Marimba, Carl Strom."
Shirley knew right from the start that she could never learn to make the fat and sweaty Mr. Strom one of her favorite people, but for the sake of her host of the evening if not the hope of a potential job she gave the club manager a friendly smile.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Squires. From New York, Mr. Jones was saying. I, too, knew New York many, many years ago. You're enjoying your vacation, I'm sure."
"Sit down, Carl," Mr. Jones said with an expansive gesture of invitation. "Join us in a drink."
"I will. I will, but in a few minutes, just let me get the girls all set and I'll be right back." Mopping his brow he scuttled off into the blackness of the room. "Don't be put off by Carl's agitation, my dear," Mr. Jones reassured her. "One of Nature's worriers but the salt of the earth, really. And his club is one of the top places to work on the island. The tips are good because the drinks are full measure and the entertainment's of high quality. They cater to a very special clientele as you will see." She wasn't sure that she liked the looks of the place that much, but decided to hold off making any firm judgments until she'd been there longer. After all, perhaps it was built this way for tourists. They supposedly would go for something with plenty of "atmosphere" A Caucasian girl wearing black net leotards and a tight skimpy green satin covering over her torso glided up to their table. "Hello, Mr. Jones," she said breezily. "Are they looking after you all right?"
"Yes, Dora," Mr. Jones told her, giving her a pat on her buttocks. "Although we could use another drink if you'd send the boy over." Shirley thought the girl looked about her own age, twenty or so, and was surprised Dora could behave so matter-of-factly dressed in the embarrassingly skimpy green costume she wore. It was so tight and brief over the bodice that she was afraid the girl would pop out of it any second, and the pants half was cut so high up in the crotch that almost all of her buttocks under the leotards were left on plain view.
After a little more banter with the gay Mr. Jones, the nubile hostess minced away on high heels to remind the waiter about their empty glasses. Mr. Jones leaned over to Shirley confidingly, saying, "Dora started off here as a cigarette girl. Now she's Strom's best hostess. She's tops at keeping the drinks coming to the tables. A fine girl." _ Strom, still perspiring, returned, and plonked himself down heavily on a chair. Mr. Jones asked him what he wanted as the waiter had just arrived for the drinks order, and Strom chose gin-and-tonic. "I was just telling Shirley," Mr.
Jones said to the club manager. "That girl Dora has turned out trumps. Perhaps you could give Shirley the same training too?" Once again that evening the nineteen year old blonde found herself the target of such hard unabashed scrutiny that she felt her clothes were melting from her body one item at a time. At the end of his pointed stares, Strom managed a sickly smile.
"No doubt about it," he said. "You certainly have all the qualifications we're looking for, so you can have the job if you want it."
"That's fine," she said nervously, "but I do plan on taking a few days off right now just to relax and I couldn't start work for a week, if that's all right." Strom assured her that she should have her break, but added a suggestion that she come by the next afternoon and one of the girls could show her the ropes of being a hostess so she wouldn't waste time learning on the job.
She agreed to return the next day about two and get fitted for her costume and talk to some of the other girls.
A small combo started setting up on the platform which served as a stage. "Oh hell," groaned the club manager. "They've forgotten the curtain again!" And he went off at a fast trot with the result that seconds later the two halves of the curtain parted slowly and jerkily drawing together to eventually hide the stage from view. Paul Delaplante arrived in the middle of this performance and laughed when Mr. Jones told him what had happened.
"Open or shut, who cares?" the fair-haired hotelier remarked, taking a seat very close to Shirley. He shrugged. "Nobody in the whole world, except Carl!" He'd just got a drink served to him when what illumination there was went out and a single bright spot glared on the deep blue of the stage curtains. The music started on a rising drumbeat and the curtains began opening, moving more smoothly this time and eventually revealing a very ornate chaise-lounge positioned center stage, and draped sensuously along its length was a young black-skinned girl wearing a purple evening dress cut high up about the neck but leaving bare shoulders and bare arms, except for long white gloves. The bright spotlight exaggerated the blackness of her skin and her whole body seemed to radiate a glow as she slowly began to undulate in time to the music, which had now moved into a softer, more rhythmic beat. She suddenly twisted upright on the couch and planted her feet decisively on the floor, staring straight out into the audience. Then with another sudden movement she stood upright, her arms and hands crossed demurely over her breasts. As the timing with the music hit, she flung open her arms and, lifting her head, went full-throated into a well-known torch song. The effect was dramatic, and the song's sad tale fitted perfectly the light wailing lilt of her voice. She's good, thought Shirley, and wow, what a figure! The girl's get-up was pretty-Well a sure indication that she was a stripper, and Shirley hadn't been too happy at all when she realized this was to be the club's "special" entertainment a visit once to a New York strip joint with Phil had made her most embarrassed. This singing, though, was something else again, and she decided to relax and enjoy it while it lasted.
From Shirley's point of view the song ended all too soon and the tall slender Negress began to glide languidly about the stage, moving back and forth in time to the beat of the drums. She moved as if she were caught up in a jellied substance, swaying so that you could see every curve of her body ripple under the clinging gown. Her hips undulated sensuously backwards and forwards as if she were making love to some imaginary man in front of her, going through some contortions with her body that Shirley would have thought impossible in such a restricting outfit. But as the drums increased their tempo she moved faster and faster. The spotlight followed her across the small stage and when she reached the side nearest to where they were sitting, she reached behind her and slowly and teasingly released the hooks at the waist of her gown.
With another swift movement unfastening the halter neck clasp, the dress fell carelessly around her feet revealing her long firm legs which were now completely bare except for a thin net-like covering over her pubic region the whole impression was that she had nothing on. Her breasts were completely bare except for the same net covering, plus a few tassels to hide the taut nipples apexing the high, firm mounds. As she moved across to the other side of the stage in rhythm with the band's increasing tempo, the audience got the full effect of her buttocks jouncing regularly in time to the music as she swished her hips voluptuously from side to side in snake-like fashion. Her arms were still covered by the white gloves and this seemed to enhance her sensuousness as she glided back and forth across the stage. The tassels which barely covered her luscious breasts caressed the bosom's skin as she strutted, parading proudly, her pointed nipples swaying gently with the music's rhythm. The filmy net covering her pubic mound seemed to lie lightly over the tops of her thighs, but it was raised in back so that the fullness of her ripe shimmering ass-cheeks was clearly visible. She moved suggestively, lewdly, as though she were a living sex goddess. Her whole body was controlled by sexual tension, and she knew that each move she made was drawing attention to the fact that she was sensuality personified, a perfectly proportioned woman who knew instinctively how to use the build of her body to perfect effect. She revolved slowly about the stage, giving everyone just enough of a suggestive glimpse of every part of her to arouse even the most jaded sexual palate. She let her hands slide up her body and cradle the arrogant under-curve of her smooth jutting breasts so that for most of the audience they could almost taste the touch of the firmness and supple fullness she was intent on putting on display. As her hands infinitely slowly slid down from her breasts, she grasped the golden tassels that had provided practically the last cover for her taut erect nipples and, pulling on them suddenly, tossed them to the floor. For a moment she stood there, a slight film of perspiration had formed on her skin, giving her blackness a glistening ebony intensity, and the audience could absorb the statuesque rotundity of her figure as her breasts stood completely free and naked beneath the clinging lacy net.
Abruptly the combo broke the tempo and swung into another, more staccato-type beat, moving her to change her style of dance to one that was more recognizably bump and grind, her movements still graceful and deliberate and sensuous, but her hips pulsating and rotating in time with the new tempo or in time with the service of an imaginary lover.
Shirley couldn't take her eyes off the sexy performer as the girl sauntered with her calculated movements around the stage. The spotlight had changed its hue now, one brilliant color following another, creating a new world every time a blue suffusing the prancing female figure was substituted for a yellow, a yellow for a purple, a purple for a red. The changes and permutations went on and on, mesmerizing Shirley with the rest of the audience, while through all the mysterious shadowing which seemed to change shape according to the different color in command she, the center of attraction, the focus of all attention, was tantalizingly removing even the filmy netting lacily curling over her breasts and loins, until with a burst of up-tempo drumming and a re-application of the white spot, full power, the dancer was seen to have now divested herself of every piece of her clothing or ornament, and she moved quite naked before the gasping and spellbound audience.
The dancer then began to move her performance into another range, heightening the tension by slowly undulating down the steps from the stage out into the darkened room among the tables, followed by the narrowing white spot. The drums tightened the tempo another notch and her gyrations became more and more violent until it seemed as if she were going into the throes of an orgasm. Then the lighting started changing rapidly with the beat, accentuating first her thrusting breasts and pulsating belly, then her loins, thighs and legs which she spread wide open, bending them slightly at the knee, rocking back and forth in time to the music. She wriggled onto one of the tables closest to the stage and, making her body continue the dance from a kneeling position, flaunted her wildly jiggling breasts in the face of the man sitting at that table. The sweat ran down his face openly and uncontrollably. With one fluid movement she abandoned the table top for her exhibition and went front and center again, wriggling suggestively back up onto the edge of the stage to give the people in front of her a revealing view of her widespread thighs as she began a repertoire of erotic and lewd contortions. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating and pulsating like a jack-hammer, her hands exploring every luscious curve of her fully-rounded, sensuous body. They ran over the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips and rested invitingly at the open "vee" of her crotch. At a sudden crescendo reached in the drumming, she changed her routine to a series of high kicks slowly executed around the small stage, this being the brief finale of her act. At center stage, she stood posed, her hands on her hips, giving everyone a last look. Then she turned, and the spotlight died.
As the applause also died down, Strom came hurrying over to the table. "How did you like it, Mr. Jones? Didn't I tell you she was a bombshell?"
"Carl, you've outdone yourself," Mr. Jones answered. "I liked it very much. What about you, Shirley? I hope you weren't offended by the young lady's, uh, explicitness?"
"Not really, I guess. I have to admit I was just a bit unprepared for what was going to happen, that's all." She also had to admit to herself that it was an extremely erotic even beautiful display, and that for most of the time she could feel herself getting more and more caught up sensually in the provocative artistry of the girl.
The lights went up on the stage for the steel band to give its brief final number, to be followed by the guitarist again. Mr. Jones had ordered another round of drinks for the table and didn't seem to be making any effort to break up the evening. Several, of the other hostesses stopped by the table to say hello to him and it appeared they all knew him quite well.
Shirley was getting more than slightly high from all the liquor and the hour was late, but the men were huddled across the table from her and were whispering so quietly that she was unable to distinguish what they were saying. Being left out of their conversation made her uncomfortable; after all, she was supposed to be part of the group.
She tapped Mr. Jones on the arm and asked him if he could take her back to the hotel or call a cab for her, she really felt that she should call it a night. He told her that he would be with her in just a minute if she would excuse him for a moment or two longer. She excused herself and headed in the direction of what she assumed was the powder room. In doing so, she walked past an open door to a dressing room, the one the hostesses used, and she couldn't help but overhear a cryptic reference to the Boston businessman.
"I wonder if Jones is going to throw another one of his special parties?" Shirley stopped in full stride as someone answered, "If he does, I sure hope he doesn't invite me. I couldn't walk for a week after the last one!"
"But he does take care of the girls very well," said another hostess. "And boy, I could sure use the extra cash."
"Oh well, we'll just have to wait and see ... "
"Hey, how about his latest," chimed in another voice. "She's supposed to be starting here next week. Wonder if she knows about him yet, poor boob!"
The conversation puzzled her, was very disconcerting, and she quickly returned to the table and waited for him to take her back to the hotel.
When they arrived at the hotel, he let her out of the cab and told her he would pick her up the next day and take her back to the club for her briefing. She wondered how she could get out of it and what she would do for a job if she didn't keep the appointment. She tried to put it out of her mind. Maybe things would look better after a good night's sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
When she went downstairs for a late breakfast the following morning, Mr. Jones was already in the dining room, waiting for her. "Got through all my business calls for the day very quickly," Mr. Jones said, giving her a breezy greeting. "So just thought I'd drop by early to take some of this delicious coffee with you and whisk you out to the Marimba."
She didn't know what to say to get out of going, so she smiled at him weakly and told him she was glad to see him. Mr. Jones did most of the talking while she pecked at her food. The prospect of working at the Marimba Club seemed to have taken away her appetite, however much the older man rambled on about how she saw last night that a lot of young white girls worked there, and that it paid well.
But she still couldn't help thinking about what she had heard the girls discussing in the dressing room and no matter how she tried to put it out of her mind, she couldn't forget what they had said about Mr. Jones. What did it mean?
She tried to summon up enough courage to ask him about it during their drive out to the club again together, but it was just an impossible subject to get into. As for working at the club, there was no sense in trying to kid herself, she just wouldn't fit into that kind of life.
When they arrived in front of the Marimba Gub she was about to let him know that she had changed her mind, but Strom came out and met them at the car.
"Good afternoon, glad you came back. I was afraid our show last night might have turned you off."
Mr. Jones frowned at Strom and cut in quickly: "Oh, the girl's got more spunk than that, Carl. Where Shirley comes from, they rear 'em tough. Isn't that the truth, my dear?" Shirley gave the Bostonian a weak smile and even managed one for the obsequious Strom. "I ... I thought I'd give it a try for a while," she told the club manager. "I may as well find out what it's all about."
"Certainly. That's the right attitude. Always be willing to try something new, that's my philosophy. You'll find we're a very friendly group here, you'll soon see," Strom said, grinning at her with a familiarity she didn't like at all.
In daylight, the "club" looked what it was, practically derelict. Outside, the building seemed as if it might be just good enough for a barn, and inside it was filthy, the furniture rickety and held together by all kinds of ingenious makeshift bits of wood and a variety of odd sized nails bent and angled every which-way. Dust and the smell of stale liquor was everywhere, and what carpeting there was seemed impregnated with stale bits of food. A few of the girls were sitting at one of the tables, drinking coffee and rum and just passing the afternoon until it was time to go to work. Strom took her over to the group and introduced her to three girls she'd seen the night before, but not met.
They invited her to sit down. "Welcome to Alcatraz!" blurted out one of the girls, Sandy Mason, but Strom shot a withering look at her and she lowered her eyes quickly, mumbling something about, " . [ .just kidding."
Strom hovered around the group for the whole time it took for her to have a coffee and a chat with them, and so she was witness to no more outbursts of the Sandy Mason variety. Later, after she turned down a drink of the rum, two of the girls took her off to the dressing room to try on a costume or two.
"Don't you think they're a bit tight through the bust?" Shirley commented hesitantly, shocked by her image in the mirror.
The girl everyone called "Sugar" gave a snort. "That's the way they like it, kid," she answered. "The more tit the customer sees, the bigger he tips. You get so you don't notice it after awhile, besides," Sugar shrugged, "it really is so dark out there at night on the floor that if the stiffs really want to see anything they sure have to work hard for it."
The other girl, Babs Dempson, nodded. "It's not that you haven't got a knock-out figure, sweetie you really have." She stood back examining Shirley's appearance critically. "It's just that when the show goes on, nobody watches us, anyway. So why worry?" Most of the other girls were drifting into the dressing room now and all of them seemed to be friendly toward her, but all the same, she could still feel a certain tension in the air. At last Sandy Mason who'd kept quiet up to this point said, "Look I don't know how you are involved with old Jones, but if you still think there's a chance to get out, take it!"
The other girls told her to lower her voice or Strom would hear her, but she shushed them brusquely quiet herself. "I don't care," Sandy said defiantly. "She looks like a good kid so why shouldn't we try to give her a break. None of us exactly love this rat race, and you know as well as I do that once you're in, you're trapped!"
Shirley started in asking her what she meant, but suddenly the room went silent as they realized Mr. Jones and Carl Strom were standing at the door.
"I'll have you taken care of later, Sandy," Mr. Jones told her. "You have a big mouth." Shirley couldn't believe that the man who had been so charming to her was ordering the other girl around in such a rough voice. He was shaking with anger and his eyes had narrowed to cruel slits. Sandy Mason quickly left the room and went back into the bar. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her, Mr. Jones," Strom said deprecatingly. Mr. Jones ignored him, and turned to the girls, recovering some of his composure.
"Well, girls, it's party night tonight," he announced breezily. "This evening after the show we're taking a little ride over to Meresham Island. I'll expect you to be up to form." None of the girls said a word, but when Mr. Jones left the room they turned to Shirley and said, "Looks like you'll be getting the full initiation treatment right off the bat. Lots of luck, honey."
"W what do you mean?" stammered the young blonde newcomer.
"We mean," Sugar emphasized. "We mean that if you don't get out of here before tonight, you're going to get screwed by the kinkiest bunch of s.o.bs. this side of Chicago." The New York vacationer gasped in disbelief at what she was hearing and still shaking her head, half-stumbled, half-ran out of the dressing room and back into the bigger main auditorium. She located Mr. Jones and the sweaty manager near the bar and hurried over to them to tell them that although she appreciated their offer of a job, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to take it as she had decided to return to New York. They just looked at her and laughed. Mr. Jones lowered himself onto a chair and wiped away a tear of amusement.
"My dear, I'm afraid it's far too late for that," Mr. Jones told her softly, when he'd recovered his breath. "You see, you're just too good a property to lose. You have no choice. You have to work here oh, you'll be well looked after, as I've told you, and the money is good. But I've decided with my colleagues that that's the way it will be. You'll live where we tell you and do as we say."
The distinguished-looking older man spoke icily and slowly, his voice expressionless except for a shading of cruelty and sadism that was reinforced by his glinting eyes. She turned to run for the door, crashing into chairs and tables in her panic-stricken attempt to escape, but, when she was no more than ten feet away, the doorway was blocked by ... Fredrico! What was he doing there? Who were these people? And then she realized that they were all in the conspiracy together. Confronted by the hulking, flaming-haired figure of Fredrico, she slumped down in the nearest chair and started to cry and plead with them to let her go.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," Mr. Jones assured her. "We, can't do that now, you know too much. But here, have a drink and you'll feel much better."
Fredrico walked to the bar and mixed her a drink and set it in front of her, never taking his lustful eyes off her for a moment. "Drink this," he ordered. "You'll feel better ... much better," and all the men laughed. The drink was one of the 'specials' that she had been given the first night, the one with the licorice taste, and she was reluctant to drink it. But slowly the warmth of the alcohol started doing the trick, and she thought that if she got good and drunk they can't make me work, so I may as well drink until I'm senseless.
She finished the first drink and Fredrico brought her a second, which she also downed quickly. The men were sitting in a corner discussing the plans for the party they were having that night, but she could only hear parts of the conversation. They were not trying to keep her from hearing, though, because they had her trapped and they knew it!
She began to feel a little woozy from the 'specials' and she felt a peculiar heat creeping all along her legs and concentrating in her loins in a sort of pleasantly burning tingling. Someone in the club turned on some island music and she began to find it difficult to sit still she wanted to get up and move. Inevitably, her upper body began to gently sway in answer to the irrepressible urge to match the lilt of the music with movement of some kind, and the men began to watch her from their part of the room and seemed to sense what was happening. They knew that the absinthe would start to take effect eventually, and then they would have their fun and she would love it, but they wanted to watch her squirm before they made any move on their part.
She started tapping her fingers on top of the table in time with the music, and moving back and forth in her seat. She now began to feel as if her whole body were on fire and she couldn't put it out. Only one thing could do that! The burning sensation peaked in her breasts and she could feel her nipples becoming erect involuntarily, her thighs were quivering and the tension building in her loins threatened to become unbearable. Finally, she couldn't bear to sit still any longer, and slowly she inched off the chair and began to move around the room, touching objects with a caress and swaying all the time in a suggestive, sensuous manner, until she reached the table at which the three men sat.
She stood in front of them, undulating her hips and running her hands over her body, and she could feel the desire controlling her body transmitting itself to her hands through her clothing. The very cloth felt hot! The men laughed at her supplication vindictively. "Quite a cooperative little miss now, isn't she?" Mr. Jones said through a cloud of cigar smoke. "What's the matter, my dear? Something turn you on all of a sudden?" He laughed, and the other two men chuckled with him. She just looked down at them and they were no longer men, just three phallic objects, sitting there, and they had something she wanted ... and had to have! She had never felt this way before and she didn't know what was happening to her. Then she remembered the first night she had spent in Montego Bay and wondered if this is what had happened to her. Fredrico had made the drinks then, and she knew that she had made violent love to someone, but she couldn't remember who. This was different in that she was in complete control of her mind, she knew what she was doing and she knew who the men were, but she had no control over her body!
She weaved back and forth around the table, caressing each man first on the back of the neck, letting her fingers trace a light pattern down the nape of the neck and around their ears, tickling them lightly.
"I would venture to suggest," Mr. Jones said heavily, "that our latest recruit is endeavoring to tell us something!"
"Paul had her the other night," Fredrico said. "Let me have her first today?" Mr. Jones sat in thought on this for an instant, then looked up and grinned at the others. "Yes," he said sadistically, "it might be enlightening to watch you combine your splendid physique with that little girl's, and present her with the gift of that monstrous huge instrument of yours. Take her. But you'll have an audience and I want to see her squirm and beg for it."
Fredrico smiled in triumph as he got up from the table and walked around in back of Shirley, letting his hands move under her arms and slip over her full breasts. His hands slowly and sensually moved tightly on her breasts and then down over the undulating curve of her hips as she danced in time to the music. His fingers began to unbutton the thin cotton blouse she was wearing until he was able to slide it easily off her shoulders so that she stood before the group with just her scanty lace brassiere covering her breasts. Her full, soft mounds more than filled the thin material that was binding them and her full white flesh protruded proudly above the cloth. His hands then found the zipper on her skirt and he unhooked it until it slipped easily to the floor. She never stopped moving her body as though she were in a trance, while he continued to undress her, his hands touching and manipulating every curve of her body. The brownness of his hands against the whiteness of her belly made a sensuous contrast for the excited onlookers. She wriggled her hips in snake-like fashion, accentuating the bulge of her pubic mound which was covered only by sheer bikini panties and the thin elastic of her garter belt holding up her stockings tautly over the smoothness of her thighs and calves.
The slight bulge of her thighs was defined and emphasized by the tightness of her nylon stockings, and you could see the firm sleekness of her legs in contrast. Fredrico let one hand slip inside the lace of her brassiere and pulled one breast free from the confines of the non-resisting cloth. The pink nipple was already erect and he pinched it firmly, making her twist underneath his caress. Her eyes were half-closed as she looked down at the other two men sitting at the table as they watched her, but she seemed completely unaware of their attention, her eyes glazed and unseeing.
Mr. Jones called over to Sandy Mason, the girl he described in the dressing room as having a big mouth. She walked reluctantly and sullenly over to the table. She had no choice but to accept the invitation of the two men to take a seat between them at the table and watch the lewd spectacle going on before them.
Shirley was writhing violently even though she was still standing and when she tried to turn to push her body desperately against the bulk of Fredrico his hands held her firmly with her back to him. His fingers deftly released the hook of her brassiere and let it fall carelessly to the floor so that everybody could see the full ripe firmness of her jutting breasts. He stroked the soft, sensitive mounds tenderly at first and then more and more roughly, caressing and pinching the vulnerable nipples into an even more erect hardness. The heat that was racing through her body was becoming almost unbearable and she could feel the hugeness of his cock as he dug his hips into the supple roundness of her buttocks. She wanted to take his cruel weapon in her hands and in her mouth and make him want her as much as she wanted him ... now! But he had to continue his tantalizing and teasing of her body until she would beg him to fuck her. That was part of the deal. Then she felt his hand on her leg, stroking the stockinged thigh and calf, digging his fingers into it, then holding it lightly as if he wanted to get the feel of it more fully. His hand moved up over her knee and continued up to the thigh, advancing slowly until he reached the point where the nylon covering gave way to soft smooth warm flesh. His prick was jerking underneath the tightness of his trousers, but he didn't want to take his hands off this lust-crazed young voluptuous blonde. Mr. Jones sensed his desire and ordered Sandy to unzip his pants and free his huge pulsating cudgel so that he could reach full erection. Slowly, Sandy moved alongside Fredrico and began to unbutton and unzip his trousers so that his gigantic cock could jerk freely against the soft silk of Shirley's panties. While Sandy busied herself in undoing Fredrico's pants, he fumbled with the hooks that held Shirley's stockings in place and, unfastening them, let the garter belt straps hang loose. His fingers found the elastic legband of her panties and he shoved two fingers cruelly up inside to fondle at the soft fleshy lips of her cunt. He used one finger to find the hard tiny bud of her erect clitoris and rubbed it harshly, bringing increased movement from the girl's body and gasping moans from her lips.
"I've got to have you," she gasped. "Now ... please ... do it to me!" The other two men laughed at her pleas while the massive Fredrico sadistically teased her body into greater and greater passion. She was like a wild animal that was caged and in heat. Her fingernails were digging into her own thighs in an effort to free herself from all of her clothing, but he held firmly between her legs and inserted a long probing finger into the depths of her already moist vaginal passage. She squirmed about on his twisting hand clamped between her legs like a limbo dancer erotically, lewdly.
Sandy Mason had succeeded in lowering Fredrico's pants and his hard menacing penis was jerking uncontrollably upwards against his stomach. Shirley could feel the huge bulge pulsing against her buttocks and she wanted to reach it, hold it and caress it. She tried desperately to reach down between her legs to grab it, and, as she bent over in an effort to massage Fredrico's rock-hard cock, Mr. Jones reached out and began to fondle her luscious swaying breasts as they hung downward over the table. He pinched hard at the tender nipples and she thought she would go insane from desire. Shirley wriggled desperately to try and push her gaping wet pussy onto the battering-ram spasmodically jerking behind her, but Mr. Jones quickly stymied her play by ordering Sandy into the act. "Suck him, Sandy," he hissed. "Get him in your mouth get him harder!" Sandy took Fredrico's cock and uttering a deep throaty groan Shirley watched her take the gigantic organ in her mouth and begin to suck feverishly at the long, pulsing tool.
Shirley's wanton, lusting desire only increased at the sight of the instrument of pleasure that should have been filling her being mouthed sensually by the other girl. "You know, I do believe our little girl is ready for anything," Mr. Jones suggested sadistically. "But before giving the young lady her final servicing, Fredrico, why don't we have her bent properly over the table so that we can all have a good look at what she has to offer?"
With a lewd sucking sound, Fredrico reluctantly pulled his thick fingers out of the girl's hot clasping wet cunt and tore the stockings and panties from her legs so that she was now completely naked and vulnerable to their hands and eyes. Sandy's nibbling on his cock had aroused him almost to breaking point. He slipped his prick from between her lips and let it jerk outward in the warm air so that he would not climax before he had sunk it deep up into this crazily-aroused gyrating blonde's succulent pussy.
Mr. Jones used all his strength to pull Shirley's head and shoulders violently down onto the table top, nearly crushing her soft, resilient breasts against the rough splintery hardness and, looking sharply up at the poised assailant, said with an evil leer: "I'd make a fairly stiff wager our willing victim is still a virgin back there, Fredrico. Do you fancy a nice tight fit like that?" He was both breathing hard and drooling at the same time as he contemplated all the atrocities they could perform on this girl in the state she was in and she would still be begging for more. In fact after Fredrico had had her, he thought he just might take a turn himself in a more conventional manner.
Fredrico's lips slowly broke into a wide malicious grin as he dug his fingers cruelly into the soft inner part of Shirley's thighs and pulled her legs roughly apart so that she was bending down, over the table, almost spread-eagled in front of him. The soft, white moons of her buttocks waved salaciously back at him as he slowly pressed his loins forward toward her. She could feel the hard bulbous tip of his mammoth rod as it jerked violently against the soft white crease in the buttocks. He bent his knees slightly and using his hand as a guide probed with the stiff blood-filled cock's blunt head against the sensitive puckered mouth of her tightly cringing anus.
Oh, my God! she thought. He can't put it in there! I can't take the huge size in there and my vagina is so on fire. I want him to fuck me!
"Noooooo, oh please, no." she moaned urgently. "Not there, I don't want you there. Take me right. Fuck me, don't hurt me. You're too BIG!" But the lewdly grinning barman paid no attention to her pleas and making a final adjustment to the bend of his knees for exact application of the best leverage of his cock's entry into the soft, virginal back passage, he clasped the girl's ass-cheeks still between his huge hands.
Mr. Jones was delighting in the humiliation and degradation he was submitting this young innocent girl to and he wanted to see the look of fear and horror on her face when Fredrico rammed his giant tool into the soft confines of her rectum and impaled her to the very depths of her belly. He wanted to see this triumph and . turned her face roughly on the table, scratching her slightly on the cheek, and ordered her to open her eyes. The obscenely excited Shirley had never felt so humiliated and shamed in her life and small wet tears began to run slowly down her cheeks. The desire that was burning in her loins was being stifled by the shame and horror of what was going to happen to her. Fredrico moved firmly up against her and she could feel his fingers digging cruelly into the crevice of her buttocks as he pressed outward with his thumbs and separated the tensing asscheeks.
"Loosen up, baby ... relax," he panted behind her. "It won't hurt if you don't fight it. But you're going to get it now whether you want it or not." She clenched her hands tightly together and gritted her teeth in order to endure the expected pain, then she thought she would faint as she felt the first pressure of his huge hardened organ as he tried to insert the throbbing blood-engorged head of his cock into her tiny anal passage.
"Christ ... she's tight ... this isn't going to be easy," he grunted.
He could feel the foreskin being stretched back tight against the long thick shaft of his penis and he gave a quick hip-thrusting stab until he could feel it slowly slipping its way into her rectum.
"Aaaaaaaarrrrgghhh ... nnnooooooooo ... STOP!" she shrieked through her tears, her face contorted in pain. "You're killing me ... you're killing me!" She wished she could pass out and blot out the thought of the unstoppable rod of flesh worming its way into the soft confines of her quivering buttocks, but Mr. Jones was rubbing an ice cube over her face to keep her fully conscious and totally aware of what was going on. He wanted her to miss nothing of what was happening and hissed taunting obscenities in her ear as Fredrico burrowed his way farther and farther into her.
"How would your lover, Philip, like to see you now, my dear?" he gloated. "Bet you never got it from him like this, did you?" Fredrico was straining and grunting as he fought to get farther and farther, deeper and deeper into the tight elastic hole until he thought his whole penis would burst. The tightness of the flexing rubbery flesh grasping around his cock was about to bring him to a premature climax.
To Shirley, it seemed as if his organ was right up in her belly, tearing her insides completely apart and she pleaded like she had never pleaded before in her life. "Stop please ... PLLLEEEAAASSE!" she moaned. But there was no let up in the cruel rape of her young rectum. It was the tightest passage he had ever known and he wasn't going to stop now, not now, now that he was so close to the explosive blinding end.
And suddenly, before another moment had passed, he could feel the fire in his loins begin to build to the flashpoint of his coming climax and he thrust into her more cruelly, deeper with each buttock-flattening jerk as he went into the throes of his orgasm.
"God! Yes ... I'm cumming. Yeeeessss ... It's now ... I'm cumming!" he screamed like a wild animal as the girl bending before him felt the crescendo of the hot, sticky, swirling sperm spurt deep into her upturned ravished back passage. Oh God! I'll bust, I'll burst, ran helter-skelter through her tortured mind and she could feel every contraction of his penis as he jerked out his brutal satisfaction deep up inside her belly.
Finally, she felt his bludgeoning tool become soft in her forever stretched rectum and he began to withdraw his satiated penis from the sperm-flooded opening. When he was completely out of her, he fell back into the nearest chair in order to catch his breath. A slight trickle of semen was running down the backs of her thighs, glistening obscenely in the afternoon light. Her legs had no strength left in them and she fell to her knees on the floor sobbing from the pain and humiliation of what had just been done to her and doubled up into a fetal position in an effort to relieve the burning pain in her stomach. She lay there sobbing helplessly for a few minutes until finally she was aware of Mr. Jones grabbing her roughly under the arms and hauling her back up to an upright position once more.
He pushed her harshly onto the table on her back and she was too weak to fight him. She opened her eyes slightly and saw that he was grinning over her with a strange excited gleam in his eyes, and even though he'd not bothered to remove his trousers, his rigid penis was throbbing upwards outside his opened fly. He ordered Strom to hold her head and shoulders so the lush round softness of her buttocks was hanging slightly over the edge of the table. He had grabbed her ankles tightly and held them out in the air on either side of him so that her loins glistened open and defenseless before his lewd gaze. He moved up to her excitedly so that he could feel the soft inner flesh of her thighs brushing against his trousers and just close enough so that his hardened prick barely brushed against her vaginal lips, nipping at the bud of the clitoris so that a new sensation of desire was sent rippling through her. Her vagina had been denied its fulfillment with the lewd sodomy performed by Fredrico, and now Mr. Jones was going to tease her into an erotic frenzy again, before he would finally consent to fuck her. She hadn't realized that men could be so cruel and wished again that she might die but as she looked down at his obscenely pulsating rod, she felt a tightness growing between her legs. He laughed at her and said, "You'd like that right now, wouldn't you?"
She was unable to speak and just soft mewling sounds of incipient passion rose involuntarily from her larynx. The softness of her breasts quivered but the mounds stood firm in the air in spite of her being stretched out on her back.
He let his prick jerk teasingly against the soft hair-lined lips of her pussy for a few moments and then he bent over so that his mouth was just inches away from her starved cunt. He let his tongue part the soft sparse pubic hair and lick softly against her already stiff clitoris, rubbing it harder and harder with each tongue stroke. Then with his teeth he started nibbling relentlessly at the passion-inflamed lips of her vagina until she was writhing on the table in lewd, erotic contortions, her hips grinding out of control like a berserk belly dancer's. She tried to free her arms so that she could reach down and hold his head firmly against the starved, throbbing passage between her widespread legs but Strom was holding her shoulders too firmly.
At last, after a seeming eternity, the "businessman" raised himself up again, saying, "Man, is she ready!" He pulled her legs completely apart so that she was fully open to him and he could bury his shaft into her on the very first thrust. Her hips were bucking up off the table in a passionate, lustful frenzy and he grabbed her underneath her buttocks, raising them from the table, and rammed his stiff pulsating cock deep into the depths of her vagina.
"Oooooooohhh, God!" she groaned in welcome relief. His thrust had almost taken her breath away and she felt wet, hot and vulnerable in the diminishing open space between her legs. Her passion was beyond control and she really wanted it now and wanted it deep. She would have gone mad if he had left her now and she begged him to fuck her harder.
"Harder ... give it to me harder ... fuck me, oh yeeeeesss ... fuck me deeper," she groaned in her lust. He raised her hips slightly for more leverage and pushed his trembling rod as deep as it would goand still she begged for more. He could feel the walls of her vagina close and release along the throbbing thickness of his cock, and he knew that he would not be able to hold out much longer before he spewed his liquid hot cum far up into that screaming little belly.
"Oh baby, you're hot ... so hot and good," he panted. He was scrambling and shoving to get farther and farther into her hot wet passage as if he was going to pierce her heart with his penis. His hips danced against her upturned buttocks and she pulled her thighs higher off the table. She could feel the contractions of her vagina as she was about to cum, and she bit her lips at the delicious thought of that final all-consuming satisfaction that would come in the barest of moments ... and it did!
"Aaaaaaaaaarrrgghhhh, oooooooohhhh, yeeeeeeesss ... I'm cumming, I'm cumming ... Now ... NOW!" she gasped. "Give it to me now! Now ... NOWWWW!" Her words excited him into an uncontrollable surge and he could feel her contractions on his throbbing penis as he began to spew his sperm deep up into her velvety clawing well of a womb.
"Yes, here it is ... now ... I'm cumming ... I'm giving it to you NOW!" And he jerked out his orgasmic spasms, emptying himself completely inside her. When he had finished he fell exhausted on top of the table, letting the final drops of semen trickle onto the floor. She was still panting, trying to catch her breath, when he got up and walked nonchalantly into the men's room to clean himself.
She started to doze right there on the table in an exhausted and troubled sleep when Sandy gently shook her and told her to come into the dressing room to get cleaned up and take some rest there.
The other girls were all sitting around, smoking and talking, trying to avoid the subject of what had just happened. They all knew what she had been through, because they had all shared something like the same experience. It was just difficult to tell anyone that it would pass and that they wouldn't think about it any more, especially right after it had happened. It took time to mellow these things and harden you to the point where degradation and humiliation no longer mattered, so they just continued talking as Shirley came in, and was shown by Sandy where the shower was and a cot to then lie down on.
After a minute, the shower water started, and then there was a pause among the girls. One of them broke the silence with: "Well, she's initiated now. I wonder just how long she's going to last?"
CHAPTER SIX
Over the next few weeks, Shirley was the prime target for their sadism. Most of the time she was expected to work evenings out at the Marimba Club, but often one or the other of them retained her "services" at the hotel, until she felt no better than an animal, senses dulled and uncaring even about what day of the week it was. The other girls tried to give her something to live for by telling her the same thing happened to them until a new girl came along to whet the gross appetites of their captors. The new girls always got the hardest time, because of the novelty for the men. But once, a new girl became inured to the degrading routine, and the sexual depravities of the men failed to stimulate the same horrified reaction, then Mr. Jones and company became less demanding of their "fun".
She had been kept a prisoner virtually for four weeks when she finally gave up all hope of Phil or anyone else trying to reach her. She knew that her parents would start to worry about her eventually, and she tried to threaten her jailers with this, but they had an answer for everything. Each week, the girls who worked at the club were forced to sit down and write a few cheerful words to their relatives, saying what a marvelous time they were having, and how much they liked their jobs. These letters were written under the "supervision" of Strom, or Paul Delaplante, or Mr. Jones if he were in from the States, and then mailed by them. When there was more sleeping room available at the club, she would be sent out there to live permanently, and then there would be even less chance of escape. But, in a way, she would have preferred to move immediately, as the hotel manager was paying her nightly visits and his aberrations in sex were out of this world. She had never known people could get their kicks in such cruel and perverse ways. She had lost track of the things he had made her do to him and the things he had done to her in return. Before each session he would make her drink more and more of the lust inspiring absinthe until she was groveling at his body like a bitch in heat, enjoying the lewd liberties he leisurely took with her body as the mood struck him.
Life had become a terrifying routine and each day she tried to steel herself against what might be the next perversity dreamed up to try out on her helpless body. She knew that she was fighting a syndicate, and that there was little hope they would release her, at least not until they had broken her down to such an extent that she was no good to them anymore and, even then, she would know too much for it to be really safe for them. The whole fight seemed hopeless, but she couldn't give up, her mind continually turning over different possibilities allowing her to get free of the island. Her mind kept coming back to Phil, in New York, and she became convinced that if she could at least get word to him, he would stand by her. She'd already tried a couple of times to sneak out of the hotel unseen, but there were too many eyes of the "corporation" around to make this possible. But she had to get to a phone! If she came up with a good enough excuse to be out for a few minutes, maybe that would do the trick. There was no other way.
When six and then seven came and went and no one collected her to take her to the club, she decided to make the attempt that evening. She crept down the stairs to an apparently empty lobby and for a moment she thought this was one time she was going to be able to get out of the hotel without anybody seeing her, but Paul the hotel manager met her as he came out of the bar.
"We were afraid you'd persist in these attempts to escape our hospitality," he said with a leer. "It seems I will have to supervise you daily and nightly."
She tried to keep her voice calm and hoped he could not hear the pounding of her heart as she stammered, "But, I was just going to the drug store to get a few things I need."
"That's a nice try, but I'm afraid I can't believe you we're not about to take any chances with you whatsoever," he menaced, his eyes narrowing to evil slits. Her legs felt weak and she knew it would do no good to plead with him, because every member of the "corporation" seemed devoid of any compassion. Thoughts raced through her mind with lightning speed and she looked at him directly in the eyes, saying, "Well, if you don't let me by then you might find a girl on your hands in a serious predicament. After all, what would you do with a pregnant waitress?" She saw this gave him pause for thought, and smiled at him seductively. "Besides," she added, "isn't there some way I can repay you for the favor?"
His eyes wandered lustfully over her body and she reached out and let her hand slip to his thigh as if she were brushing away a piece of fluff. She let her fingers tighten around his upper thigh, gave him a promising squeeze and scrutinized his expression. She could see the hardness of his look was beginning to change to one of desire and lust and thought that with a little effort she could have him wanting her more than anything else.
She kept her hand firmly on his loins as she kept up her soft-spoken blandishments, letting her fingers dig suggestively into the sinewy fleshiness of his upper leg and thigh, squeezing with greater intensity until she became aware of an answering pressure beginning to build up beneath the binding of his trousers. Now she knew that she was building a desire in his that would take precedence over any other thought he might nave.
"Okay, but fifteen minutes, that's it!" he said in a lust-thickened voice. "And no where else but the drug store." She let her hand wander farther up his leg until she could feel the intense hardness of his cock inside his pants and gave him a promising squeeze. He grinned lecherously at her and warned her not to "try any funny business", otherwise he would have to come after her and she then would have to pay even more severe consequences.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't miss that cock for the world! I'll be back in ten minutes and meet you in my room believe me, I can't wait to repay you!"
Her words made her stomach crawl but it was her last chance of freedom and she would say or promise anything to get out of there. She could feel his gigantic cock growing into full hardness and she knew that his own lust was mounting so that he would not try to stop her. If he did catch her, however, in her attempt to make the phone call, then she knew she would be punished horribly with that terrible erect weapon between his loins.
He reached out and gave her full ripe breast a tight hard squeeze and she wanted to cry out in pain. Swallowing the sound though, she smiled up at him and, stepping to one side of him, walked toward the front door. She knew his eyes were following her but didn't hear any footsteps behind her as she went outside into the cool night air.
Her first reaction was to run, but she knew this would be a sixty-four dollar mistake, so she kept up an even pace until she reached the corner of the square and then broke into a full run. The telephone she was heading for was in the lobby of another hotel the Hotel Mandrake within two blocks of the Hotel Seychelles. She turned round at the entrance, certain she'd see the skulking figure of Paul Delaplante somewhere in the distance, but the road seemed clear. She tried not to hurry too conspicuously toward the phone booth through the half-a-dozen small groupings of people filling the Hotel Mandrake's lobby. When she'd located the phone, it wasn't so much in a booth as recessed under a hooded alcove, and she groaned in dismay as she saw the long list of instructions for making long distance calls.
It turned out, though, if you wanted to make a collect call, as she did, all the work was done by the hotel operator. Shirley hurried over to the far end of the front desk where the hotel switchboard occupied a small space. She waited impatiently while the telephonist finished putting through a call, then blurted out: "I want to make a collect call to New York city, please." The switchboard girl shrugged. "I'll try, Madam, but the circuits are still very busy around this time. If you want to wait over by the phone I'll try to connect you. What's the name, please?"
Shirley told her, and Phil's name and telephone number, and then went and stood with the phone receiver pressed to her ear, praying Phil would be in. Seven-thirty-five-God! She'd been away from the hotel ten minutes already! was as good a time to catch him home as any. After much talk between operators, at last she heard a phone start ringing. It rang only twice and then was answered by a quick "Hello?"Phil's voice!
"Oh, Phil, thank God you're there, I need...." But a telephonist chimed in, not the hotel operator. "I'm sorry, Madam, but if this is a collect call I must contact the party in New York first. Please hold the line. New York? I have a collect call for Mr. Philip Jackson from Miss Shirley Squires. Will you accept the call, please?"
"Hello, hello?" came Phil's voice again. "I can't hear a blessed word you're saying!"
Shirley was almost A� sobbing with frustration. "One moment, please, Madam," came the impersonal voice of the operator again. Then, "We're experiencing some difficulty with the circuits to New York, Madam. Would you replace the receiver and make your call later, please?"
Phil was still saying his "hellos" in the background, and Shirley uncontrollably began shouting out, "Phil! I need help. They won't let me go and...." But even as she started yelling into the mouthpiece, she was already cut off not by the operator. A thick brown forefinger had snaked over her shoulder as she had clutched the receiver desperately to her ear and mouth with two hands, and before her terrified eyes severed the connection by firmly hooking down on the receiver rest. "Mr. Delaplante warned you not to do anything foolish," said a voice behind her as the brown hand now took the receiver from her paralyzed grip and replaced it gently on its rest. "Now you're going to have to pay for not heeding the man's kindly advice."
The hulking form of Fredrico, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear, was at her elbow when she turned, and now she knew her one chance had been thwarted and there would be no reprieve.
The syndicate's enforcer caught her firmly by the arm and deftly negotiated their way quickly but unobtrusively out the Mandrake's lobby and then on to a back street route to return to the other hotel. His grasp was very rough now, and he let his hands wander over her body freely as they walked in the near darkness.
"Very foolish, to do that. Not friendly to anybody at all," he kept murmuring in her ear in mock-sorrow, emphasizing his dismay by pinching the nipple of her breast as his hands slid around her waist and up toward her throat. "Makes the bosses very angry. A great pity!" and he snickered and squeezed her breast with pride of ownership.
She could feel the tears well up in her eyes at the uselessness of trying to escape the lewd mauling his hands were giving her. She could taste the salt as the tears ran freely down her cheeks and into the corners of her trembling mouth.
"P please don't hurt me," she stammered, trying to ease the vice-like grip he had on her. "That, child, is not up to me," Fredrico said. "But I don't think they'll mind if I have my fun on the way back. I'll prime you for Mr. Delaplante, so you'll be more receptive to his advances!"
His hands were roaming over every curve of her body as they walked down the street and she wanted to scream, but in such a back-alley area she knew it would be worse than useless.
His fingers dug into the softness of her skin and she knew she was going to bear the bruises of his strong, thickened fingers wherever he touched her. His hand moved down her side and dug into the narrowness of her waist and then over the full rounded curve of her hips until she felt his fingers pushing into the hardness of her pelvis and gather in the folds of her skirt until he reached the crease of her loins between her legs. He rubbed his fingers furiously in an effort to stimulate some sort of reaction from her unwilling body, but with each step she tried to push his gripping fingers away from her. She felt nauseous at the thought of this thug manhandling her in such a way and she wished that someone would appear on the street he'd have to break off his lewd fondling then. It was getting quite dark, however, and everybody was keeping to the main road.
He let one hand fall carelessly over the round fullness of her buttocks and the fingers of one hand dug at her vaginal cleft from the rear. He let his forefinger dig into the crevice of her rectum for just a moment before proceeding on forward toward the tender sensitive lips of her pussy. She tried to wriggle away from his disgusting behavior, but she was caught like a piece of wood in a vice. His calloused grasping hands held her still so that she could no longer walk and he contented himself with taking whatever pleasures he had a whim for, manually.
Then he stopped and turned her roughly around and pressed his stiffening cock into the bulge of her pelvis, forcing her legs slightly apart with the pressure. She stumbled backward as he pushed his lust-filled loins into her and she nearly fell onto the loose gravel. He caught her by the material of her blouse, ripping the buttons off, so that it hung open around her neck and midriff. She tried to grab the material in an effort to cover herself, but he laughed and, ripping again at the fabric, left it hanging in tatters around her soft cringing shoulders.
The thin cotton and lace of her brassiere did nothing to conceal the young firm mounds of her breasts as they swelled out above the fabric's tightness. He stared at the proudly jutting crests and let his hands wander over them, forcing two fingers inside the confining material of her brassiere to pinch the nipple of one breast sadistically. Pain ripped through her body and she started to scream out when the torment stopped as he tore the lace from the undergarment. Then, as her luscious breasts jumped free of the tatters, he buried his hot, dry lips hard against the cleavage of the creamy melon-like mounds and slid his mouth over to one nipple, to begin sucking it into achingly taut erectness.
In spite of her disgust at Fredrico's touch, she could feel a tremor run through her body in involuntary reaction to his lusting caresses. She wanted to fall to her knees because of the pressure he was exerting against her body, but his hands held her securely in an upright position, and she could only stare down in outraged revulsion at the thick mop of carroty-red curly hair as his mouth continued sucking obscenely at her breast. She tried to push his head away by shoving on his shoulders but this only made his rapid nibbling on her nipple more urgent and intense.
She felt so naked and helpless in the openness of the evening air, but no matter how she tried, he would not release her. He tongued and mouthed the tender erect nipple until it stood out, pink and arrogant, and then he busied himself with bestowing the same treatment on the other breast.
A soft moan of helpless surrender escaped from between her lips and she could feel a tightness growing between her legs. He looked up at her for a moment and half-smiled as if to tell her that he knew she was reacting no matter how hard she tried to fight it. When she felt that she couldn't stand the urgent caressing of her breasts any longer, he suddenly grabbed her round full buttocks in his hands and fell to his knees in front of her. In one swift movement, he lifted the material of her skirt and buried his head against the thin white silk of her panties, nibbling gently at the soft resilient mound between her legs.
She could feel his teeth biting softly through the sheerness of her crotch-band and the warmth of his breath blowing between her thighs. His hands held her hips firmly in place as he began to wet the silk with his tongue, until it felt as though his oral caresses were not hampered by any clothing at all. His fingers dug into the soft supple flesh of her inner thigh and he let his fingers slip inside the tight elastic legband of her panties until he could feel and crudely fondle the soft pliant outer lips of her vagina.
"Oh my God!" she gasped out, no longer even able to make a pretence of non-desire. "Please stop ... stop! I can't take it! Not here! Please!" she moaned.
He seemed to delight at her humiliating position, and continued to lick feverishly at the thinness of her panties, forcing his tongue deep into the cleft between her legs. She tried to struggle against his urgent mouthing, but she was completely helpless against the strength of his thick, muscular fingers. She pushed forward and then pulled back, fighting against her building desire in an attempt to deter his lewd assault on her body.
He let one finger slip inside the yielding moistness of her cunt, twisting roughly against the clinging walls of her vagina until he could feel her pushing down against him. She was ready, he knew, to explode into an uncontrolled, passionate lust-crazed animal, but he was not going to satisfy her urge, he had to wait and turn her over to Paul. The thought of this young blonde, heated with want by his own lips and hands, appealed to his sadistic sense, and he suddenly pulled away from her and got to his feet.
"Straighten yourself up," he ordered. "I don't want people to think I've been walking with a whore!" He snickered evilly at the aroused state he saw he had brought her to and ran his hands quickly over her breasts to taunt her more.
She could sense the blood rush to her face as she shamefully pulled the tattered remains of her blouse around her and he pushed her toward the back door of the hotel. She managed to catch herself before tripping over the bottom step of the doorway as he roughly shoved her through and into the startling brightness of a back office. Not only Paul Delaplante stood there, but also Mr. Jones.
"Where d'you find her? At the drug store?" Mr. Jones asked, taking in her unkempt appearance.
"She wasn't anywhere near the drugstore," Fredrico answered. "She was phoning somebody, from the Mandrake."
Mr. Jones sighed reproachfully. "Oh, that was naughty of you, my dear. We must punish you very severely for that. Who were you talking to?" Shirley buried her head in her hands and began sobbing bitterly. Without further ado, Mr. Jones took one step forward and struck her heavily across the side of the face. "Now tell me," he commanded, grinning grimly.
"I heard her yell for help," Fredrico butted in. "She said something about, 'They won't let me go', then I cut her off."
"If she said that much she'll have to go," the foxy little hotel manager said in alarm. "She might have people looking for her."
"Yes, we'll have to move her," Mr. Jones agreed thoughtfully. "So, you were calling your friends, were you?" he said to the blonde head bowed in front of him. "That was very stupid of you. We're a very large corporation, with our clubs all over the Caribbean, so Jamaica's not the only place we can have you work."
"It was Phil Jackson I was phoning," she said at last. "I didn't get through, you don't have to worry." Mr. Jones shrugged. "I'm afraid it's now out of our hands," he said. "We can't afford to take chances you force us to send you to one of the other clubs. A great pity, you know how fond of you we are here."
The older man reached out and forced her arms away from the protective covering they had made over her breasts, and the shreds of blouse fell away to reveal her almost naked heaving mounds. Paul licked his lips.
"There, is the question of her, uh, punishment?" he said softly. "Before we lose her." Mr. Jones' regretful expression changed to an evil leer as he nodded in agreement and moved one hand slowly to the material of her brassiere covering one breast. "You're right, Paul," he whispered, using two fingers to yank the material down so that her breast popped up its pink nipple tautly erect. He nipped at it making her wince. "You're so right. She has a big mouth. I wonder if she can take both of us? Here and now?" Now Paul started to grin, and moved in closer alongside the older man, his hand on his zipper.
"On your knees," Mr. Jones harshly commanded the dazed voluptuous girl, and she had no option as Fredrico from behind placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to the floor. "Hold her head up, Fredrico," the gray-suited man added.
Fredrico grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her head back until she thought her neck would break, and she closed her eyes in pain. A few inches away, she heard the sound of the men's zippers rasp down. "Open your eyes," Mr. Jones said.
The men stood before her, clothed, with their massively erect organs standing out from their pants like flagstaffs jerking in the wind, the two bulbous penis-heads bobbing madly.
"Now, little one," Paul intoned, "you shall pay for your foolish folly." Mr. Jones moved slightly closer. "Take them both in your mouth," he ordered harshly.
She knew she could hardly accommodate one of the giants in her mouth, let alone TWO! She shuddered, thinking of the impossibility of it. Both men now moved in on her as Fredrico continued to hold her head in place, moving his fingers around to stretch her mouth to its widest. The two men above her maneuvered their huge, pulsing organs so they were at either corner of her mouth.
They pushed their loins forward simultaneously and she "could feel the two purplish cockheads slip harshly past her trembling lips into her dry oral cavern and then begin to push deeper into her throat, as though it were a race to see who could get the deepest first.
She heard them laughing as they pushed into her, stretching her mouth until she thought that her face would split in two. She tried to pull her tongue back so that she would not choke, but Paul's hissing, demanding voice stopped her. "Lick them ... suck them ... NOW!"
She tried to do as he ordered, but it was as though she had two giant bananas shoved down her throat and she gasped desperately for air.
Fredrico held her head firmly as the men rocked back and forth on their heels, shoving and pushing their hard, jerking cudgels deeper and deeper into the softness of her gullet. She could hear their breathing becoming more and more rapid and she wished that one of them, at least, would soon reach his sadistic climax so that she could catch her breath, but their huge penises remained rock hard as they bludgeoned relentlessly and tirelessly against the back of her throat.
Finally she could feel that one of the erect staffs was beginning to jerk rapidly against the softness of her inner cheek and she concentrated all her licking there, and moments later, she began to feel the hot, sticky jet of semen start to flow deep into her throat and out the side of her mouth. The man was jerking violently against her and almost threw her over backward. She could feel the once-hard maleness slowly slip out of her mouth and she gasped for air before her head was forced back on the other male hardness.
"Suck it good now, baby," a voice rasped out above her and she could feel the gigantic instrument push into the very depths of her throat with increased ferocity and fervor. She sucked wildly at the monstrous cock, licking the underside until she could feel it, too, begin to jerk uncontrollably and spill forth its pent-up load far down into the warm soft recesses of her mouth.
She choked as the hot pungent fluid ran in streaming rivulets down her throat and she was forced to swallow the rancid tasting sperm as it spurted obscenely into her nibbling" elastic-like lips. When he was spent, he drew out of her and laughed heartily as she fell forward onto the floor, retching and coughing in complete humiliation.
"Pull her up," Mr. Jones told Fredrico. When her limp and shaken body was standing more or less upright, held by Fredrico, Mr. Jones pinched her cheek painfully to make her more fully aware of what he was saying.
"You're going to get ready for a little journey now, Miss Squires. Fredrico will help you. A number of our clubs will no doubt be glad to have you join them, but tonight we have a little orientation party to take you to first. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
He turned to the hotel manager who was zipping up his fly prior to leaving the office. "Have her ready in an hour. I'll have the boat pick you up at the usual place."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fredrico half-carried her, half-dragged her to her room, throwing her on her bed.
"Get yourself good and pretty now, for the bosses," he said maliciously. "You've only got an hour and you better be ready." She stumbled into the shower, discarding what was left of her clothes as she went, and turned the faucet on as hard as it would go. She took as much of this as she could stand and then wrapped herself in a towel and stumbled back to fall semi-conscious on the bed. After a doze as she dried in the warmth of the air and the small towel, a loud banging on the door signified they would need her in twenty minutes.
Panic-stricken at the thought of what they might do to her if she weren't ready for them, Shirley heaved odds and ends into an overnight bag and packed her clothes untidily in a larger suitcase. She had barely time to get a dress and stockings on before Fredrico and Paul came to her room for her bags.
A car was waiting outside to take them to the docks, and as it reached the quayside across from the luxurious yacht that was taking everybody to the party island, Shirley recognized several of the other girls from the Marimba Club arriving too. This gave her some hope that she might be saved from further degradation and any evil sexual aberrations would be taken out on somebody else for a change.
Mr. Jones as always was drifting among the group, pinching the girls whenever his hands happened to fall close to a pair of ass-cheeks and giving orders to the captain of the yacht to prepare to sail. The cool night breeze felt refreshing on her face and she tried to relax in spite of the dread of what was in store.
"Have you ever been to one of these parties?" she asked one of the other girls, apprehension mounting in her with each passing second.
The girl gave her a blank stare and pointed to Mr. Jones who was within hearing distance, and motioned with her finger to keep her voice down.
"Yes," she whispered, "and I don't know what terrible thing I did to deserve another go round. They're really pretty awful!"
"I've been through so much," Shirley grimaced to keep from crying. "I can't take anymore or I'll just die!"
"Well," the other girl said, trying to console her, "we're in this together and maybe you'll be lucky tonight and they'll take a fancy to another girl." The boat moved swiftly and quietly through the calm Jamaican waters as it sped on its way to the island that lay some way off the coast to the north. The moon was full and bright and the stars seemed to dance on the calm water, with a flying fish stirring up a phosphorescent streak every so often.
Then the other shoreline came into view and Shirley began to make out the lights of what seemed an enormous mansion, but she couldn't be sure because of the thick foliage that surrounded the building.
It took less than an hour to reach the dock at the island and as the crew were tying up the yacht, the girls were told to get ready to go ashore. Reluctantly they all got to their feet and a murmur started buzzing among the various groups of girls on board.
Shirley's legs were shaking as she walked down the gangplank and she thought about the pirate stories she had read as a child where the beaten crew of a captured ship were marched off the end of a plank and thrown to the sharks. She had to fight to keep herself from swooning and she wondered if all the other girls were as worried about the coming ordeal as she was.
The path to the house was lighted by colored lanterns which swung gently in the soft night breeze, giving the route a festive air. Music drifted on the wind as they got nearer to the mansion. The closer they got, the more she realized that the voices coming from the house were not only those of men, but of women too.
With the rest of the girls, she was led down a long hallway which must have run the complete length of the house. They were herded into a large rather sterile room by comparison to what she had seen in brief glimpses as they made their way there. Left on their own again, the girls huddled together in small groups, exchanging ideas about exactly what was going to happen next. One of the more experienced girls said, "This set up is different from the other times I've been here. This must be something special ... I can't imagine...." her voice trailed off in wide-eyed speculation.
The girls were not left on their own long. A man who was unknown to the group entered the room and told them that they were to strip down to their brassieres, garter belts, panties, stockings and shoes.
"Well, you heard me," he repeated to the paralyzed crowd. "What are you waiting for ... STRIP!" The girls looked at each other in disbelief, but reluctantly began to follow his orders as he moved among the group, surveying them, touching them, judging them as if they were cattle being readied for auction.
When they were all stripped down to the same bare essentials, they were led through a back doorway, down another long hall and into a brightly lit room. They could hear the voices of a large number of people men and women coming through a temporary partition that divided their end of the room. Then a familiar voice asked the audience to be silent.
"If you would please be seated," Mr. Jones asked, "we will begin the first part of the program. You all know why you are here and what the rules are. The girls that you are about to view must for one reason or another all be transferred to other areas of the organization to make room for new recruits. So look them over carefully, and whatever you wish them to perform for you will be arranged before the final bidding. These are all young girls whom we have broken in and broken in well, I might add. I'm sure you're not going to be disappointed by any of them."
"My God!" one of the girls exclaimed, "they're going to put us on offer like pigs at the county fair!" A dismayed, unbelieving hush fell over the assembled blondes, brunettes and redheads, some instinctively crossing their arms protectively over their nakedness, others cursing shamelessly.
The audience of pimps, madams, racketeers together with a sprinkling of wealthy perverts could be heard giving Mr. Jones a hearty round of applause for his little speech, and then the other man came back again and started lining up the scantily-clad girls in single file. As each made her entrance on the other side, all would be helpless as to whose hands they would fall into or what they would be forced to do.
One by one the girls were asked to walk across the floor, turn, bend over, forwards and backwards while Mr. Jones gave a running commentary on their figures, outstanding talents and any other details of a lewd and salacious nature he could dream up. Bids were called out between the gasps of appreciation from the men in the room, as Mr. Jones kept the action moving.
Her legs were shaking as Shirley made her walk across the room, and she was trembling so much she almost fell down at the spiel started by Mr. Jones on her behalf. "This young creature is the newest addition to our group, but very well skilled for the short time she has been with us. Unfortunately, she spurned our hospitality by complaining to friends and that's the only reason she's up on the auction block tonight, otherwise we'd be only too pleased to retain this honey at the Marimba." Chuckling, he took one of Shirley's shoulders and slowly forced her to spin around so that everyone got a good view. "In fact," he went on confidingly, "my delightful companion is one of the few girls to take not one, but two men in her angelic mouth. Not a favorite trick of hers, I must admit, but I'm sure that she can be persuaded to do it again."
One of the men in the group shouted out, "How many men can she take in a night?" Mr. Jones shook his head. "We've never put I her to that test. But now might perhaps be the time. That could be performed later if you would care to see?" The group applauded and Shirley knew with a sinking heart the die was now cast. She walked back behind the partition, while the buyers continued their sordid routine with the others girls, some of whom were brought on the spot while others were reserved to show their mettle later.
Mr. Jones came "back stage". "You'll be first, honey," he told Shirley. "There's a lot of horny men out there just waiting to get at you, so let's go!" She cringed away and tried to pull back from his grasp when he took hold of her, but the man who had acted as general "herdsman" earlier also grabbed her, and the two of them pushed her toward the gap in the partition. Mr. Jones hissed menacingly in her ear, "You'd better perform well if you know what's good for you!"
A mattress had been set up on the floor and it looked like any other mattress except for the brass rings at each corner. The man who has asked about her was standing in back of the mattress and told her to come to him. Reluctantly, she moved toward him as the lights dimmed and a blue spotlight illuminating the mattress came on.
The man stood for a moment and stared at the luscious curves of her body, then he started to let his hands roam over every curve that was not covered by clothing. His fingers reached the hooks of her brassiere behind her back and hovered there, but decided against it. Instead, he reached inside the cups of the brassiere and roughly pushed her tender jutting breasts out of their confinement until they stood out, strained upright and erect from the coarse treatment.
"Fine set," he mumbled. "Very fine set. Just wanted to see if they'd stand up by themselves." And he pinched her nipples cruelly until she cried out in pain. He released the hooks on her brassiere and let it fall to the floor so that her breasts could fall back into their natural swell and fullness. He put his mouth to her pink, tender nipples and sucked gently at first and then harder, biting in little nips until she cried out again and tried to push his face away from her body. He stood back for a moment and laughed, saying, "So! You're a hellcat! Let's see how long the fire lasts ... I like a girl with spark!"
He pushed her roughly until she fell staggeringly onto the mattress and he knelt over her, straddling her with his hands pinning her shoulders back so she could not move. Within seconds, she could feel another set of hands grabbing each of her wrists in turn to lock leather straps around them and then fasten the leather binding securely to each brass ring at the head of the mattress. She kicked her feet high in the air in an attempt to throw the gross man straddling her off onto the floor. She caught him on the inside of his thigh and he jumped back, startled, then his hand lashed out and he struck her cruelly across the face. "Don't try anything like that again," he hissed, "if you want to save your skin."
The crowd was shouting crudely-worded encouragement of the ugly man who had her pinioned so helplessly. Tears of frustration and humiliation streamed down her cheeks as she tried to bury her inflamed face in the mattress. She knew they wanted to see her put through every possible degradation imaginable, and they would shout and scream in their vicarious enjoyment of the sadistic treatment.
His hands ran down to her waist and he dug his fingers into the soft supple flesh where it began to curve into the fullness of her hips and buttocks, feeling the slight bulge of flesh that rose above the tightness of her nylon stockings. He undid the clasp of her garter belt so that he could feel every inch of her legs as he pulled the silky mesh from her tapering limbs. Her legs were shaking as he continued to disrobe her, leaving only the tiny thin bikini-type panties covering the sparsely-matted hair of her pubic mound. He stood above her leering down maliciously and lustfully. And as she closed her eyes to block out his lewd grin, she could feel someone else's hands tugging at the elastic of her final covering and peeling them teasingly over her thighs and ankles so that she lay there completely naked and vulnerable. The same hands that removed her panties were now shackling her ankles in the same manner as her wrists, and she lay there completely spread-eagled and open. It seemed as if she were kept in the same blatant and degrading position for hours, but in reality she knew it was only minutes before she heard the rustle of the man's clothing dropping to the floor. She wanted to faint dead away because she knew that it wouldn't be long before this ghastly animalistic creature, whoever he was, would be mauling and using her body in any way his evil lust dictated. She could hear the rapidity of his breathing as he shucked off his last clothing, muttering obscenities to her the whole time as he prepared to get down on top of her.
"Sister, you're going to be screwed tonight like you never been screwed before!" he said clearly and slowly as he watched her struggle uselessly within the tightness of her bonds, her writhing only increasing his desire to abuse and ravish her until she was completely broken and subservient to him.
He stepped onto the mattress and knelt between the thrashing girl's open legs, gloating over the smooth pink-fleshed little pussy he was about to ram his cock into. His own passion was too far beyond control to bother himself with any preliminary lovemaking he just wanted to be inside her and feel the warmth of her vaginal walls close around the throbbing hardness of his cock. He moved quickly and roughly between her wide-spread legs, running his hands coarsely over her thighs and hips, pulling apart the tender lips of her vagina like soft hair-lined curtains. And then, with one last look down at her widespread crotch, he aimed his lust-swollen cock at the tiny, cringingly quivering hole between her legs and lunged at her with all his might.
"Aaaaaarrrrrrgghh!" the blonde screamed with a long gasp of pain and her body went rigid as though she had been impaled with the tusk of a wild boar. His penis ripped into her tight, unprepared vagina and it contracted and squeezed desperately around the monstrous organ as if her vainly resisting young cunt was bound and determined to force him out with a pressure to equal his own. He gasped, too, at the sudden deliciously clamping wet flesh around his hardened cock as it fucked up into her, and he continued to push deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm moist walls of her cunt in rolling waves before his blunt-headed spear.
Stretched out supine, helpless beneath his dominating body, she felt as if she must be torn in two by the savagery of his entry. She bit her lower lip and rocked her head back and forth in an effort to dull the pain that racked her loins and belly.
She tried to think how wonderful it would have been to have Phil making love to her and not this animal of a man, but she could only feel the pain of humiliation that this man was creating for her, taking her this way, unasked, desecrating her most intimate parts, shoving his thick lust-hardened penis into her torn aching passage as though she were nothing but a whore off the streets to be used for a price and nothing more. He lay still for a moment, his pelvis jammed hard between her open thighs and his breath coming in strangled gasps as he felt her warm moist pussy throbbing around his hardness. And then, unable to hold back any longer, he began to fuck viciously into her, and with each violent thrust she thought he would kill her. His rock-hard penis savaged her tender passage with relentless strokes, and his face, when she opened her eyes, was twisted into a mask of strained lust and sadism. His eyes stared narrowly down into hers, and he grimly enjoyed the pain and fear he saw there as a sensual intoxication enveloped his loins.
She was being driven brutally deeper and deeper into the mattress with each pile-driving buffet of his hips and she could feel the hardness of the floor beneath smacking against the softness of her buttocks. His penis thundered on deep into the moist clinging passage of her cunt and his hands went behind her to cruelly cup the soft white mounds of her asscheeks, his fingers digging deeply into her anal crevice.
He ravaged her viciously, twisting his hips and crashing his throbbing organ deeper into her from every angle, feeling the swollen head bludgeoning at the lining of her vagina, bringing cruel gasps of excitement from him and moans of pain from her lips.
The tender walls of her vagina felt as though they were on fire, her whole belly being gutted and torn out as the flames of 'his lust stormed through her. Her mind wandered to the thought of the humiliation and pain she would have to bear from the rest of the men, and she suddenly felt that she surely must die in the process. It would be too much for her to bear.
His hands found her soft, white breasts and mauled her like a lion devouring its helpless prey. His nails dug into her supple flesh and clawed at the tiny erect buds of her nipples until she thought they would be ripped away from her body. He squeezed harder and harder and she knew that she would be a mass of purple and black bruises and her chest constricted by pain. It was a never-ending nightmare, but she knew that this was only the beginning and she would have to endure it time and time again before she finally would be released from the bonds that fastened her securely to the mattress.
She opened her eyes slightly, looking into the audience to see if there was any one of the crowd who would pity her and make him give up, but her fearful looks were met only by icy, lust-filled stares from the other men who couldn't wait to get their turn at her.
One of the men yelled, "Hurry up, Grant, I want to get a crack at her before I cum right here watching you!" This cracked up the rest of the crowd but Shirley just moaned and wished that she could pass out and not know anything of the remaining assault after her present assailant had finished with her.
The passion-crazed man above her looked down at her mouth which was opening and closing in a fish-like manner as little gasps of pain shook her, and he crashed his full fleshy lips down hard on hers, biting them savagely as he thrust his cruel, hard rod deeper up inside her as he was working up to a feverish climax. His tongue filled her mouth, forcing her lips wide open and they became sore from his sadistic biting. She struggled to get her head away from him but it was locked under his head just as her lips were locked under his.
As he could feel the pressure building up in his loins, he moved farther up on her to prepare for the great flood of semen that would fill her every inch, and his breath rasped out savagely, pantingly, as if he were enjoying the fact that he was destroying this young innocent girl and was gloating over the violence of his destruction.
He was so overcome at times that he seemed to lose his rhythm and stayed deep inside her widely stretched pussy for several seconds at a time, grinding the bulbous head of his cock around and around against the innermost walls of her vagina. She lay completely still in an almost semi-conscious state waiting in horror for the burst of passion that would fill her. Her warm moist passage contracting automatically around the thick stem of wildly probing flesh inside her, it seemed as if the head of his penis was growing to enormous size, like a giant balloon about to burst.
She could feel his hairy legs begin to quiver with the onslaught of his passion as he rammed into her faster and faster, his whole body shaking with delirium-like frenzy. Her tight, reluctant channel was dragging the sperm out of him with an overwhelming suction and the rush grew in volume like a dam beginning to burst.
He cried out, gnashing his teeth, and he caught her breast again, crushing the firm bruised bulbs brutally between his fat fingers and his body shook in a convulsive tremor which was accompanied by the shattering deluge of his hot splurge of semen deep into the torn painful depths of her vagina.
When he was spent he rolled off the mattress onto the floor in an effort to catch his breath. After a few minutes he got up and looked at the group for the next man to come forward to take his place on top of her and do with her what he wished.
The whole cruel nightmare was becoming a reality as she looked around and could see at least twenty men, their penises straining at their trousers, just waiting to take their turn with her.
The next man knelt between her legs with his eyes directed straight at her open semen covered pussy. He began to massage the soft flesh of her inner thigh, spreading the soft, hair-lined lips of her vagina firmly apart and lowering his open mouth down over it. He began to nibble gently at first on the bud of her clitoris, then the inner part of her leg, while his tongue swirled around and searched teasingly for the tender pink slit of her vagina.
She could feel the rush of passion building involuntarily between her legs as the gentleness of his caress began tostimulate her after the cruel assault she had experienced just moments before. His hand ran over her body like a blind man's, feeling, kneading, pinching, probing every inch Of her soft vulnerable flesh, and she could feel the goose bumps begin to prickle her skin as he toyed like a master with her most sensitive and intimate parts.
One of the other men watching who couldn't stand to see the lewd erotic display any longer knelt down by her head and forced her mouth open with his fingers, thrusting his pulsing rod brutally into the cavern of her unwilling mouth. As she felt the tension building up in her own loins, she was being almost choked with the other man's thick thrusting cock in her throat. As the one man nibbled slowly and intoxicatingly at her aching vagina, she, in turn, began a frantic sucking at the other's cock.
Oh my God! she thought. I can't go through this again! But her body had taken over, reacting automatically to the erotic and sensual attentions of both men. In the background, she could hear murmurs and heavy breathing as the crowd witnessed the rape of her mouth and the tantalizing teasing of her cunt. The air of tension in the room, heightened by the sound of heavy breathing men, increased her desire and need and she wanted to be taken, but gently, not cruelly and savagely as the first man had performed the act.
She tried to buck her hips off the mattress to give the man between her legs better leverage and at a deeper angle, but the bindings held her fast to the mattress. "Oooooooohhh! Now! Do it now. Please ... I can't stand it. Fuck me! Fuck me NOW!" she groaned, slobbering around the cock in her mouth as she felt impelled to get the words out words that she couldn't believe as encouragement coming from her own lips. She knew that she had been badly bruised and torn internally by the first man, but her building passion was demanding satisfaction and she knew the pain she might have to endure would become a sort of masochistic pleasure.
She continued her mouthing of the other man's gigantic organ until she could feel it pulse and jerk frantically in her lips and she could taste the hot sticky fluid as it raced down her throat and into her belly. He withdrew his limp wet organ from her mouth and lay back on the floor to watch his companion tease some more until she was screaming to be taken ... satisfied ... fucked!
Finally, the man rose up on his knees and aimed his huge stiff cudgel for the tiny and now lusting vagina, sighting on the hungry cunt, pressing the blunt head of his cock into the tight elasticity inviting it in. He grunted and forced the throbbing shaft of flesh up inside her so that it was buried for no more than an inch. Then he began to tease her by drawing his penis out of her cunt that inch, and then replacing it, making her twist and writhe as she tried vainly to impale more of her warm moist channel over the hardened rod of his cock.
"Please put it in ... all the way in," she pleaded. "Do it to me now ... NOW! PLEEEEEEAAASSE!"
The men out front started to chuckle at the helpless girl, shackled and begging to be satisfied, and they delighted in her frustrated plight.
"You don't have to worry about Mac's with what you're going to get from the rest of us," a voice yelled out, bringing sniggering laughter from his fellow lechers. She could feel the length and thickness of the man's hot shaft of hardened flesh pushing deeper and deeper into her vagina as she tried to undulate her hips beneath him, pushing up against him as best she could before the bonds prohibited any further movement. "Aaaaaaarrrggghhhh, yes," she whimpered, beginning to feel pain as his huge hard prick started to stretch the sides of her tortured aching pussy. "Easy ... please, easy ... don't hurt me ... oh, yes!"
She was still hung on the dilemma of having her desire to be fucked built to a wild, fever pitch and the shame felt at the same time of pitifully pleading in front of her audience. But ... the dilemma promptly became no dilemma at all as he began his long hard series of smooth rhythmic strokes far up into her clasping wet vagina. He worked gently for a while, and then he was pounding into her with increasing speed and pressure, and she could feel the swollen head of his rampaging cock as it drubbed up against the smooth soft walls of her receptive cock as it drubbed against the smooth soft walls of her receptive cunt, and she could feel the involuntary contractions at the same time of her wildly clinging sucking passage as it tried to clamp a slippery grip around his erect stiffened rod.
And then ... then ... she was there!!!
"Yeeeeeeesss, I'm cumming ... I'M CUMMING ... NOW! NOW!" she gasped out, almost screaming with joy at finally reaching her long-awaited orgasm. Her moans and wildly twisting torso excited the man fucking her to the bursting point and he could feel the pressure building from the insides of his testicles, down through the fleshy shaft and reaching a boiling point at the head of his penis.
His sperm gushed forth like bubbling lava from an exploding volcano, sending hot thick jets of sperm deep into her desperately contracting belly as he jerked out his orgasm down between her flailing thighs.
When he had finished with her, he rolled heavily off to the side to recuperate, but there were other men waiting in line to vent their lewd passion and lust against her aroused body. One by one they mounted her between her legs at first and then by turning and twisting her in every lewd erotic contortion her nubile young body could make, violating every orifice she possessed. And ... and she loved it ... all of it ... filling the room with her abandoned cries of desire time after time as the nightmare went on and the first weak rays of the sun filtered unbelievably through the open windows.
Later she could not remember in how many ways or even how many men had fucked her hungering body as though she were a rutting animal, but she felt beaten and battered and knew that she would be sore and aching for days to come. She was not even sure if her legs would be able to support the weight of her body as afterwards she was half-led, half carried to one of the bedrooms some distance from the scene of her enforced submission to the depraved rape of her body. But somehow they got her to the bedroom and the last thing she remembered was another harsh command of: "Open your legs...!" She did, and fainted dead away as another vile weight compressed her pummeled frame between it and the bed's squeaking springs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She awoke next morning to the rolling motion of a boat at sea, somewhere below decks, lying in a bunk in a tiny cabin.
The first thing she did was peer out of the porthole, but all she could see from that limited vantage spot were white foam-speckled waves. The second thing she took note of was the needle mark on her arm, which probably meant she had been drugged as they didn't want her to know where she was being taken.
She lay on the bunk for what seemed an eternity, too sore to move, until she heard heavy footsteps coming down the ladder outside the cabin. The cabin door opened, and her eyes met the cold gaze of the man who had placed the original bid on her at the auction.
"Well, well, you put on quite a performance last night. I must congratulate you on being a most enjoyable piece of tail." He smilingly gave her a mock bow.
All she could do was stare at him fearfully, wondering what he would try next.
"You don't have to worry, Miss Squires," he said, raising a reassuring hand. "You're safe from me for the moment! You're going to need your rest for your new job."
"J-job?" she stammered. "What do you mean? Where are you taking me?"
"Oh, we're taking a little cruise to another island. It's not something you must worry yourself about. Your new job's even better than the last one ... it's more specialized!"
He leered at her meaningfully, but she was totally puzzled. She didn't even want to know, because nothing could be worse than what she'd already been forced to go through. "I'll leave you now to get that rest. You'll get some lunch in about half an hour and then we'll arrive sometime in the late afternoon." He closed the door and she heard his steps on the ladder.
She lay back and stared at the roof of the cabin, profoundly grateful for the promise of even so small a time to herself as her new "owner" had indicated. She wanted to stay perfectly still for a month!
In a short time, she heard more footsteps coming down the ladder, but this time they were hesitant and they stopped just outside her door. She heard a gentle knock and a voice asked quietly, "Are you awake?"
"Yes ... yes ... come in," she answered falteringly. She turned over and stared at the handsome broad-shouldered young man in steward's uniform hovering over her. He put a tray down beside her. "I've brought you something to eat," he said cheerfully. "You must be very hungry."
His eyes were a concerned velvety brown, matched by an abundance of curling hair of a slightly lighter shade. He made a slight grimace with the corners of his full sensitive mouth.
"I understand they really put you through it last night," he said sympathetically. "But don't let the pigs break you down."
"That's rich," she said bitterly, "coming from someone working for dear Mr. Jones!"
"I know," he said quickly, but don't worry, he's got his own particular hold over me I'm no free agent, believe me. But our immediate boss isn't Mr. Jones, it's a Grant Turner."
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Don. Don Sims. And you're Shirley. Shirley Squires, is it? I don't know, you seem not so hard as the others ... "
"Well," she answered, shrugging, "that may be because I haven't been around as long as the others. I came to Jamaica four weeks ago." She couldn't hold back a sob and buried her face in her hands. "Any more of this," she stammered out through her tears, "and I'll be as hard as nails in days!"
She choked on a sob, trying to regain control of herself, when he came over and placed a hand lightly on her back. She turned involuntarily at his touch and buried her whole head in his chest and shoulder.
She was well launched into a good cry by now and it was so comforting to have someone gentle hold her that she almost forgot where she was and where she was being taken. When she finally dried her eyes on a freshly laundered handkerchief Don produced, he said, "Hang on for a minute. I'll get my lunch and bring it down here. We can talk while we eat." He paused. "That is," he added, "if you don't mind."
"Oh Don," she said, "that would be perfect. I haven't had anybody I could talk to in I don't know how long. Get your food and then hurry back."
He returned in a matter of seconds with another tray, this one bearing a bottle on it as well as food. "One Rhine wine, white, chilled to perfection," he said gaily, "coming up!" And deftly he opened the bottle and poured out the clear liquid into two glasses. "I stole it from the galley," he added. "Perhaps it'll help you relax."
"Is there any way I can ever get away from here?" she asked Don hesitantly, still not knowing for sure that he wasn't just a stooge of this man Grant Turner, bent on reporting everything she told him.
"It's not easy," he answered just as hesitantly. "I only know of one girl who managed to get back to the mainland from the island, but they took care of her in Miami." And he drew the edge of his palm across his throat, graphically. "If you wait for a few weeks, maybe I can think of a way to get us both out, perhaps the next time we have to make a pick up for the old man, you could be a stowaway."
"Do you mean you would really help me?" she asked, close to tears again.
He put his arm gently around her shoulders and hugged her. "Yes, Shirley. You're different from the other girls. Some girls thought that if they propositioned me I would help them, but you're not like that. You don't deserve this kind of life, you're a sweet-natured kid, I can tell. So I'll try to help you but we've got to be careful. If the boss ever found out what I've been saying, we'd both be in big trouble." He released her and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Now, eat your lunch and have some wine. It's good for the nerves, I'm told," he added with a laugh.
She ate her lunch of crab and conch salad in silence, beginning to feel much better with each mouthful, the food being helped down with generous portions of the cold, dry wine, as she glanced from time to time at the face of the handsome young man eating beside her.
He turned so his eyes met hers, calm and friendly. She wanted him to hold and comfort her again. How could she tell him she just wanted to feel his strong muscular arms about her once more, reassuring her that she could trust him and love him? But she knew if she came right out with it the words would sound like a bribe would come out sounding phony. So, as she finished her last mouthful, she put no more into words than: "I'm going to be putting all my faith in you, Don. You know that, don't you? I don't think I could bear it if you let me down ... another disappointment!"
"Yes, I know it," he answered simply, taking her hand in his. "We're fellow travelers in the storm of adversity and it's a lousy deal, we've got a long uphill way to go. But be patient, and we'll see it through."
She gathered strength from his calm, softly-spoken voice and she knew that he was sincere. He was a sensitive man, looking younger than his twenty-eight years, and the inner strength that he transmitted seemed to be reinforced by his dark handsomeness.
He tipped back the last sip from his makeshift wine glass and got up to go, saying, "I'd better get back to the galley before they send out a search party for me. But I'll see you later when we dock and every day around the club once we land. Mr. Turner usually has something for me to do anyway, so it won't look as if I'm hanging around. But we must play it cool." He looked for a moment deep into her eyes. "I'd like to take you in my arms right now," he continued, "hold you and promise you that we can get out of this mess, but that will have to wait, and I for sure don't want to send your spirits soaring with meaningless hopes." He kissed her softly but firmly on the lips, stroked her hair back from her face, and left.
Shirley basked in the afterglow of Don's gentle attentions, aware that her bodily and mental tension had been dissipated by his matter-of-fact assurance that they had something to live for. An hour earlier, she hadn't been so sure but, now, she could again hang onto a thread of hope that soon, somehow, she could break free of the "corporation" and be able to return to a normal, happy life. Her experiences would inevitably leave deadly scars, but with a young-man like Don who would know the whole story and be able to take care of her, the future would not be so grim. Phil obviously hadn't cared, or he would have tried to put out tracers on her by now. So by rights now, then, it had to be someone who really cared.
Within a few hours the boat slowed and the maneuvering began to get it into dock at the island where Grant Turner had the center of his operations. Once berthed, the boat became a hive of activity below decks as the girls were bidden to hurry up and get their things together for the short ride to the main buildings of the club. The entire island constituted the private resort managed by Mr. Turner, but only one quarter of it was landscaped or developed for recreation. From the dockside, a mini-bus was used to drop the girls off, one by one, at cabins surrounding the gambling casino, the hub of the moneymaking enterprise, and told to report to the central office for a meeting in an hour.
Shirley threw her bags on the ominous-looking king-size bed that took up most of the space in her one-room cabin and heard herself saying out loud: "Oh Don, what's going to happen. I wish you were here to help me." She felt an overwhelming desire to cry again when she heard a soft, almost inaudible knock on the door.
"Who is it?" she asked hesitantly, fearful her "work" was about to commence before she'd had time to unpack. But to her relief, the answer was familiarly voiced.
"It's me ... Don," she heard. "May I come in?" She almost ran to the door to let him in. He slipped through as soon as she opened it. "I just wanted to be sure which cabin it was they'd put you in," he said, but then added with a grin. "I did want to see you again, too. Hope you don't mind?"
"I was just thinking about you," she blurted out. "I've known you only a few hours and you're on my mind already it must be love!" she exclaimed, trying to sound flippant, but actually coming across quite serious.
"I was just thinking the same thing," he said, taking her silkily into his arms and kissing her with a gentle but firm pressure, letting the strength of his body flow through her like electricity She returned his kissing with urgency, and before long they were lying full-length on the bed, Their hands committed to headlong exploration of each other's bodies. "Oh God, Don!" she whispered. "This feeling of wanting to give ... I thought it was gone forever, I didn't believe I could ever feel this way again. That I can actually feel love for a man ... "
"Hush, kitten," he murmured, "someone may hear us." He covered her soft red lips with his own, pushing his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth where it met her own in teasing, spearing play.
His lips kissed the soft nape of her neck, nibbling gently as his kisses became more fervent and demanding. She wanted him to make love to her, but she knew that in little more than half an hour she was expected at the "meeting".
"We mustn't ... we can't, not now," she told the excited young man. But every time she tried to speak he would cover her lips with his own. His hands ran softly, desiringly, over her shoulders and to the firm young swell of her breasts and he massaged them gently. She could feel the fire building between her thighs and she grabbed his body to hers in quickening desire, all thoughts of saving herself for work evaporating.
She could feel the hardness of his penis growing inside his trousers, and her hands ran down the hardness of his muscular thighs as his loins strained into her body.
"Jesus! I want you so badly," he groaned. "Tell me you want me too...." and his voice pleaded for her agreement.
"Yeeeesss, oh yes, Don," she whispered, "I want you so much." His fingers unbuttoned the front of her blouse and she arched her back so he could also unclasp the hooks at the back of her brassiere. His hands lingeringly caressed the round perfect mounds of her breasts out of the folds of the loosened brassiere, his long sensitive fingers testing the firmness and resilience of the quivering flesh, and pinching delicately at her tiny pink nipples until they stood erect in arrogant prominence. "Wait," she commanded breathlessly, stilling his teasing hand. "Let me take my clothes off so they won't get wrinkled." Quickly she got off the bed and slipped out of her clothes as he lay back taking in every lightning movement of her youthful limbs, each hurried gesture revealing an increasingly fleshy and seductively curvaceous body, while his own breathing became more hurried and the bulge under the front of his pants more prominent.
When she'd stripped down to her bikini panties she turned her attentions to his clothing. He made no objection to her quick small hands undressing him. Her lungs gasped in the air as she went first for the zipper of his bulging pants front, thrusting a small urgent hand through the opening she made to explore for the top elastic rim of his shorts, tugging the tight band up and over the confined, expanded cock, freeing it to jerk rigidly upright between the zipper-toothed lips of his fly, and then lowering the elastic band gently under the hairy pulsating roundness of his balls. He sighed involuntarily and closed his eyes as she paused for a moment to stare at the massive throbbing cock-head. Then quickly she reached around the stiffened upstanding organ to undo the top button of his trousers, starting to tug them off at the same time. He lifted up and she pulled them free of his legs, ankles and feet in one powerful tug. She flung them aside to move quickly into undoing his shirt buttons, but he began pulling it off himself when only the two top holes were freed. As he struggled with the shirt over his head, he felt her fingers grasp again the rim and fabric of his shorts, making his cock-shaft lurch upwards and back against his stomach. Shirley continued easing the shorts down with one hand while her other reached out to gently encircle the base of his thickened penis. Don groaned softly as she tightened her grip fractionally around the root and with a last mighty heave he freed himself of his shirt. At his feet he kicked off his shorts as he reached out to fondle her breasts, hips and buttocks in continuous motion while she now used two hands to gently knead and roll his long, thick and throbbing shaft between her fluttering delicate fingers, until his imperiously demanding cock had been brought to full spasmodically-jerking erection. Gently he eased his own fingers beneath the tight elastic confines of her panties to find the already moist waiting slit of her vagina. She giggled and squirmed as his hands stretched the flimsy material aside and his swiftly delving fingers wormed deeper and more urgently between the warm wetly fleshy outer lips of her clasping vagina toward the churning furnace beyond.
"Oooooohhh my God!" she moaned. "Don ... Don ... Ooooohhh Don!"
"Am I hurting you?" he asked anxiously, his own desire almost at the breaking point.
"I'm still a little sore," she said hesitantly, "but I want you so much ... if you could take care?"
"I will, my darling, I will," he whispered, easing up on his fingering in an effect to let her relax against his hand fully implanted down inside her rolled panties, while she continued stroking up and down on his hardened cock, with her soft small other hand moved down to tease at his boiling testicles. She wanted above anything else to have the massive organ inside her, moving in her and out of her, making her cum of her own volition as she hadn't known since the last time with Phil. With her own hands she reached to pull off her panties, but he roughly took over the chore, tugging her legs lightly into the air as he flipped the flimsy garment over her ankles and into the far reaches of the room. With a passion, they fell to work on one another, hot burning flesh to hot burning flesh, unencumbered and unrestricted any further from striving for the full limits of their desire.
He did not wait long before he rolled on top of her, spreading her legs wide with his strong, urgent hands, and eased his throbbing rod to the palpitating opening of the tiny, vulnerable slit between her legs. She could feel the pressure of the thickened knob as it probed gently at her soft, hair-lined pussy and she raised her hips slightly off the bed to give him a better angle. She wrapped her knees tightly against his ribs and pulled him closer to her with her hands digging harshly into his back.
"Yeeeeessss ... yeeeesss," she moaned. "Give it to me now ... I want you to fuck me, my darling! I want you to do it to me!"
"God, Shirley, I love you!" he choked out, and she could hardly believe her ears were not fooling her.
"I love you, too," she quickly answered, the passion of her articulating body blurring the words. "Oh, believe me, I do love you!" They rocked together as if they were locked in their embrace by a superhuman force ... one body, one desire. Her vaginal walls were still aching from the night before, but she didn't care, she wanted him to take her completely, recklessly, in every way possible.
But there was no time. The intense heat of their passion destroyed all semblance of control and she could feel the walls of her vagina contract around the male hardness of his driving cock and she groaned out her pleasure, unable to hold back for even a second more....
"Oh yes, yeeeessss, darling ... I'm cumming ... I'm cumming now ... send me ... send me ... I want it, I WANT IT!!!" Her clipped whispered commands stepped up his own passion to the breaking point and he began to feel his own contractions coming faster and faster as with a final spasmodic thrust of his hips he shot his hot liquid sperm deep up into her wildly quivering belly.
They fell alongside each other,-panting for breath, completely spent.
"I'm sorry I was so quick," he apologized between gasps for lungfuls of air. "I could have made you cum again, I know it."
"Oh, darling, it was wonderful," she whispered, tenderly stroking his face. "Just perfect. You can't believe what it's like to feel so clean and healed again." He wanted to hold her tenderly in his arms, but she thought of the time. "You'd better go before someone catches us," She said, reluctantly starting to pull away from his secure warmth. "And I have to go to that meeting shortly."
He shook his head as if to bring himself back to reality, saying, "I guess you're right, but I hate to leave you ... especially now." Asking him to go really hurt, but it was safer for both of them they couldn't take any chances, Do I love this man, she thought to herself, or do I just have an animal need that has to be satisfied? Have I already become so jaded and hardened that I need a mirage of love to cloak just a basic craving for gentleness at any cost?
As Shirley looked deeply into Don's limpid velvety-brown eyes, she tried to put those questions and doubts out of her mind. "Sufficient unto the day...." the old proverb ran through her mind. She kissed him playfully on the nose and ran to the bathroom to bathe she had to hurry, if she were late for the start of the meeting Mr. Turner might get very nasty.
The main mansion of the club's premises was huge from the outside, but this in no way prepared Shirley for the opulence she found inside when she started out for the meeting. The whole atmosphere, though restrained, was redolent of elegance; at the same time the people whom she passed seemed friendly-self-assurance and self-confidence left no need of the crass loudness that had been the common-denominator of the Marimba Club's clientele.
Gambling in the casino was the rasion de'etre for the entire set-up, so the opulence she found there was at its height. The many other large rooms she passed through, however, were also plushly decorated in thick heavy carpet, with heavy velvet drapes in rich colors and brocade-upholstered furniture in dark rich mahogany. The decorator had obviously striven to reproduce some of the aura of the great houses of eighteenth century England. The continuing decor, room after room, had a sobering effect on the young girl from the Mid-West "like the drawing rooms of the aristocracy" was a phrase that kept returning to her mind.
She felt uneasy when she first entered the spacious lobby of the main entrance, but as each color scheme in each room unfolded before her eyes from deep, full purples, to royal reds and warm olive greens the harmonic whole began to intrigue her, so that by the time she was passing through the casino section itself, the vast hall took her breath away.
"Would you like to roll dice for me, young lady?" came a voice at her elbow as she stood taking in the busy gambling scene. One of the gamblers, a well-dressed middle-aged man with greying hair, smiled at her in invitation. She shook her head, shying away. 'No ... no ... I'm sorry, I don't know anything about ... You must please excuse me, I have a meeting I must get to." She gave him a smile. "It's so intriguing though, I'd love to understand...." As she backed away, one of the nearby croupiers witnessing her embarrassment called out: "Come on back later when you're throughperhaps we can explain the ground rules to you!"
He smiled at her warmly as she hurried on, feeling somehow more relaxed than she'd ever thought possible while remaining in the "corporation's" hands. The way this club was run was one hundred per cent better than the filth and shabbiness of the Marimba Club, with its back-street type of operation. There was culture and affluence she felt herealthough she had no illusions about what would be expected of her in the bedrooms. It's almost humorous, she thoughtI know I have to go to bed with just who they decide, but it doesn't seem so bad within these elegant surroundings!
She had to ask further directions of two waiters for the Burgundy Room, the room she'd been told to report to for the meeting. As she finished that conversation, she turned to see the man who had spoken to her at the craps table was waiting for her. She wanted to hurry on to the meeting but she could hardly just push passed him.
"I've just done a quick check with the front desk, Miss Squires," he said quickly, "because I wanted to find out your name. Shirley Squires, isn't it? I'd like to find out more about you, Shirley, so I should introduce myselfPeter Green. I'm what they call a 'fixture' around here, so you'll be seeing more of me, that I can guarantee" He gave her a knowing grin, and Shirley, with a sinking heart, "knew" exactly what he meant. She nodded briefly at him, acknowledging his remark, and said that she really couldn't afford to be late and that she would probably see him later.
"You may rest assured of that, young lady," he answered, slightly mockingly. "I look forward to' the time." And he bowed slightly and walked away. Shirley was the last girl into the Burgundy Room for the meeting, Mr. Turner making his entrance through another door a moment later. ; "I see one of you has already made contact with one of our most valued clients," he said at the start, looking directly at Shirley. She gasped in amazement, wondering how he could have known.
"Yes, I saw you, Shirley, meet Mr. Greenor rather Mr. Green made sure he met you! You see, we have monitoring closed-circuit television cameras tucked away all over the club premises, so we can keep an eye, not only on you girls' but on the dealers and the players."
The girls looked nervously at one another and a few rumbles could be heard coming from the back about the place being a prison. As a pacifier, Mr. Turner threw in the fact that the never-ending scrutiny from the miniature cameras was also for their "protection" should a "guest" get out of line or refuse to pay them.
Get out of line! Shirley laughed inwardly at how anybody could be regarded as getting out of line with her after what she'd already been through. Some joke! Mr. Turner then got down to the serious business of what basically was expected of each girl and also went into the lay out of the entire premises of the resort in considerable detail. There were party rooms in the main complex for groups of any size up to twenty and also rooms for "singles" to take their "tricks" if the engagement were only for an hour or so. If a man wanted to spend a whole night, or demanded more privacy, they were to check at the front desk and then take the man to their cabins.
After half an hour, he said, "Well, that's all I have for you right now, girls, but Shirley, would you remain behind please, I want to talk with you.
Her heart was in her stomach as she waited to one side as the rest of the girls made their way out in twos and threes. The buzz of conversation was all about their new home, and there seemed to be a certain amount of eagerness to get out into the rooms and casino and explore. One or two of the girls had a pitying glance to throw Shirley's way before they were all out.
"The only reason I wanted you to stay behind at this time, Shirley," Mr. Turner began, "is because our prize customer, Peter Green, has obviously taken a shine to you. I know you're probably the least experienced girl here and that you don't want to be here, but I want to ask you to make a special effort to keep our friend Mr. Green happy. He's a very influential man, here and elsewhere a high roller and high liver, and we do everything in our power to keep him happy. Follow me so far?"
"Y-yes," she stammered. "I think so."
"He's one of our biggest spenders and anything he wants, he gets, and that includes you. Right?"
"Yes, Mr. Turner."
"One other thing." Turning to look her straight in the eye, Mr. Turner added, "Sometimes he demands rather strange things, but he pays well for his peccadillos, so follow through on anything he suggests." He leered down at her. "You might learn a lot!"
It was no surprise to find the subject of their conversation hovering in the wide, high ceilinged hallway outside the Burgundy Room. "Well, well," Peter Green said, "did you have your little orientation taken care of?"
"Oh yes, I did, thank you," she said, putting on a big wide smile and wondering whether Mr. Turner was already at his cameras, recording her forced gaiety. "You are an important man around here!"
"I manage." He shrugged, rolling a couple of dice over and over in one hand. "Let's go to the bar where we can have a couple of drinks. It'll relax us while we get acquainted." One of the club's many conveniently located bars was almost at their elbow and he stood back for her to proceed him into the dimly lit room. She felt that he was stripping her naked as he walked in close behind her. A waiter led them over to a secluded booth. Peter Green sat close alongside her and immediately placed a firm hand over her knee and lower thigh.
"Now what is it to be, Shirley, our little ice-breaking drink?" he said mockingly. She decided to answer with a similarly bantering tone. "Oh, I think a double-martini, for me," she said. "Vodka martini." Green nodded at the waiter and held up two fingers and the waiter went off.
"Now, my dear, where were we?" the debonair older man asked with only one obvious thing in mind, and he looked down at his hand and began to move it slowly up higher on her firm round thigh flesh. "Ah, yes!" he said, "you have the softest skin of any girl I've felt up in the last twenty-four hours." And his finger did start touching her skin as his hand reached her stocking top and kept moving on slowly toward her crotch.
Shirley's breath was taken away by the arrogant effrontery of the man, and he made no attempt to remove his hand from her thighs when their drinks came. The waiter gave an impassive "Thank you, sir", to his brusque instruction to "Put it on my tab", and walked away.
"Can I have my drink, please?" she asked Green, as both glasses had been placed on his side of the table. "I'm terribly sorry," he said, and took his hand away so as to reach for her glass and put it in front of her. But his hand was immediately in action again this time fingering her breasts once she'd taken a gulp of the ice-cold liquid and replaced the glass on the table.
"You must forgive me, my dear," he said, acknowledging the involuntary indrawn breath she gave at his audacious touch, "but they are so beautiful and just crying out to be tampered with."
She tried to smile suggestively at him, wondering if the "corporation's" cameras could penetrate the semi-dark of this room, but her attempt came out a hopeless, nervous effort. "Relax," he said. "Here, have some more of your martini." And he stopped his manhandling long enough to lift the glass to her lips and then replace it on the table. He took a drink from his own glass and started right back, feeling her up with one hand on her thigh and the other caressing her breasts. "I'm not going to bite you...." he whispered. " ... not yet, anyway!"
His hand had slipped fully underneath her gingham skirt again and his fingers were now feeling at the elastic legband of her panties. His palm pressed eagerly over the pubic mound as his busy fingers worked at getting underneath the legband and penetrating to the tender lips of her vagina. She couldn't help a little gasp of excitement as his forefinger found the growing bud of her clitoris. She looked fearfully around to see if other drinkers nearby had noticed.
"Don't you think we'd better wait a bit?" she asked hesitantly.
"Don't give it any thought," he answered airily. "We could fuck right here in this corner and nobody would give a damn. God! I can't wait to get my hands on you!" He took time out to call the waiter over to order more martinis and then again concentrated on teasing at the soft down nestling at the cleft of her thighs. He seemed to enjoy her attempts not to cry out in pain and the fact that she was obviously uncomfortable at being mauled in public.
With her second martini, she began to feel decidedly lightheaded, and slid down in her seat in an effort to hide the fact that Green's arm now appeared to be buried up to the elbow between her spread thighs. But this only allowed him to spread her legs even wider, and he began trying to worm three fingers up inside the tight, tiny slit of her vagina. He was breathing hard and she could feel her opening turning receptive to the insinuating pressure of his wriggling three fingers. A tightness was building in her loins and the liquor she had consumed let free all her natural, lustful impulses.
It's unbelievable, she thought. My God! What's happening to me? I'm turning into a nympho! A man just has to ... I don't have to fake anything, just let the man take over ... The transition in attitude to one of her voluntarily trying to open up the spread of her thighs to his lewd probing of her heated pussy was not lost on Green. "I'd like to rip your clothes off and have you right here and now in this booth," he hissed salaciously in her ear.
"No ... wait ... let's go to a room," she managed to choke out. She didn't know whether it was the liquor alone, but she didn't seem to mind his touch once her own body began to desire demand attention! Both of them tried to leave the booth and the bar with some resemblance to composure, trying not to appear to be hurrying unduly. She felt all eyes were on her, however.
"Let's go to your cabin," he said, "what's the number?"
"Forty-two, but I have to check with the front desk first."
"Don't worry about that," he said, walking her quickly down the path to the cabins. "I'll square that ... afterwards!" Once inside the cabin, Green lost no time in locking the door and stripping until he stood in front of her naked and fully erect. He walked toward her, ready to take her as the whim came over him, his rigid penis bobbing up against his hairy stomach like a hardened stump. His hands reached out and ripped her blouse from her body without bothering to unbutton it, and the buttons went scattering over the floor. She tried to draw back, alarmed by his aggressiveness, but his hands were gripping her shoulders and held her fast. He seemed to delight in ripping her clothes off, antagonistically, instead of allowing her to disrobe more conventionally. It took him only a few seconds of clawing and tearing to render her completely naked and vulnerable, and angry red welts showed on her breasts' soft, white flesh where he had savagely torn away her brassiere from her body. The course of his attack could be followed along the trail of these angry marks down over the roundness of her white belly on to the bulge of her Venus mound and cleft between her thighs.
Her natural inclination now was to scream in fear as he became more and more like a madman, scratching and bruising wherever his taloned fingers lighted on her limbs, grinning and leering wildly while he took pleasure out of the torture he was inflicting upon her.
His hands on her breasts and in her crotch, he suddenly heaved her up cruelly and heaved her onto the bed, jumping on immediately after to continue his insensate pawing, lustfully dipping three fingers forcefully into her moistened, aroused cunt and rotating them as hard as he could. She was now close to screaming for real but this only served to heighten his pleasure and excitement and he whispered the coarsest phrases and words she'd ever heard as he held his unwelcome head close to hers.
"You ... must ... stop," she moaned in pain and humiliation. "You're hurting me and I can't stand it! Please!"
"A big girl like you doesn't hurt," he hissed out in his lust, grunting and gasping from the effort of trying seemingly to have his hands all over her at one and the same time. She struggled vainly beneath the weight of this madly writhing male body. "You big girls can take all I've got to give," he added as he stretched open her thighs wide, " ... and more!"
She could feel the hardness of his penis as it bobbed and throbbed against the fullness of her widespread thighs in a frantic search for the now-cringing tiny slit of her vagina.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrrgghhh! she gasped, as she felt the first plunge of his great weapon into her tightened, drying passage. "Slowly, please, pllleeeeaaaassee ... NOT SO FAST!" But he was in no mood for gentility and he pounded his hips deep into her until she thought that his mammoth thick cock would curl up and out of her throat. His hands were roughly kneading the soft pliant skin of her breasts and she could feel her skin beginning to bruise on top of the painful welts already there.
He thrust in and out of her unmercifully and she wanted to die from the pain and the size of this horrible man fucking her half to death.
"I'm going to flood you in a minute," he whispered between gritted teeth. "I'm going to fill that cunt of yours so full you'll be flooded." His words and her plaintive moans excited him to the breaking point and with each new knife-like stab he could feel his semen begin to boil in his testicles until he burst forth deep into her belly.
"Uuuuuuugggggghhhhhh," he gasped, "I'm cumming ... cumming ... now ... here it is!" She could feel the walls of her vagina grasp his cruel pulsing cudgel in an automatic response and she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt his limp, deflated cock withdraw from between her legs. She could feel the small, sticky trail of sperm it left across her thigh as he moved away from her.
He grunted as he rolled off the bed and without another word began dressing. Shirley painfully curled up her aching body in a semi-fetal position and softly began to cry salt tears into the pillow, exhausted. She heard the doorknob turn and open her eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of Peter Green leaving the cabin before she started falling into a deep sleep. She was totally drained, emotionally and physically. But before she was allowed to fall away completely into a protective twilight of sleep she had one more interruption. The inter-com phone buzzed and she groggily put out a hand to answer.
"Wwhat is it?" she could barely stammer into the mouthpiece. "Congratulations," came the metallic rasp of Grant Turner's voice at the other end. "I've just bumped into Mr. Green and he said you did a terrific job for him. I just wanted to let you know he was pleased ... couldn't say enough on your behalf. Keep up the good work, honey!" And the happy manager rang off. Stupefied, Shirley lay silent for a moment, and then started laughing, quietly, but more and more hysterically, as uncaring she dropped the receiver to dangle aimlessly on its cord.
CHAPTER NINE
For a few weeks after, as Shirley Squires slowly settled into a routine at the resort, she still harbored a faint hope in her breast that through Don she would find a way out of the clutches of the "corporation". She developed a talent for shilling at the gambling tables, and this put her more into the good books of Mr. Turner. Mr. Green's attentions still had to be endured, but as his passion was new blood all the time, Shirley found herself increasingly left off his agenda in favor of later arrivals.
As life became more and more organized, she and Don were able to find many opportunities for stolen moments together, but they had to be careful not to get caught by Mr. Turner or any of his fellow "officers" of the club. She began to notice after awhile that she really didn't mind any more-when the club manager asked her to make love to one or another of the "members" who had taken a fancy to her. Very few of them approached Peter Green in kinkiness, and instead of violence most of them seemed to need sympathy and encouragement. They tipped her well, and as her earnings grew she began to do what most of the girls preferred open an account by mail at. one of the branches of a Canadian bank operating in Jamaica and send deposits off regularly to build it up.
The management supervised all this correspondence, of course, and "Mr. Turner, as with Mr. Jones, required all his girls to keep in regular but censored touch with parents or other relations. Management had found it paid to keep the girls as happy as possible, and through Mr. Turner's help, Shirley even found that it was possible to relay some of her earnings to her parents, in small weekly allotments.
But for quite a long time Shirley never lost sight of one day "escaping". Then one night Don came to her cabin while she was "entertaining". He'd been drinking pretty heavily lately, and tonight he'd had enough to lose all caution. Before when he'd tried the cabin door and found it locked he just turned on his heel and left. Tonight, however, he went only a few yards away. Did she writhe and moan under the other men as she did for him, he wondered. The thought made him blow his top, and he finally stalked back to the cabin and pounded on the door.
She yelled out for whoever it was to go away, but that incensed him even more and he began kicking at the door until he quickly put a foot right through the plywood and was able to put an arm through the hole and unfasten the lock.
He burst in and grabbed at the male figure lying under the bedcovers with Shirley. Shouting obscenities at him, Don hurled the man to the floor. "Don!" Shirley screamed. "Get out of here, you'll get us both into trouble." But her bedmate, now rising to his knees, had recognized Don and Don, him. It was Mr. Turner! Don's face drained of color and he grabbed Shirley and slapped her hard on the face. "You weren't satisfied with just the customers he sent you, were you?" he yelled. "Now it's sweetening up the boss for a bit of fun!" His voice cut through her like a knife and there were no words she could think of to cope with Don's jealousy and Mr. Turner's fury.
"So that's the name of the game, is it?" snarled the incommoded resort manager, looking from one to the other of the young people before him. "So Sims and you had something going on the side, did you? I might have known that young stud couldn't have kept his hands off you." He grabbed for his clothes and hurriedly donned his shirt and trousers. "Okay, young lady," he said, shucking on his shoes, "you I'll see in my office in fifteen minutes. You." He beckoned a finger in Don's direction. "You. come with me right now!"
The dark-eyed young man left with downcast head, never looking once in her direction. Shirley knew that with his disappearance were also disappearing her hopes of ever getting off the island before the "corporation" was good and ready to allow it, if ever. She knew that Don would be sent away and she'd never see him again. She threw herself down onto the bed and wept hysterically. God, why had he been such a fool! Such an immature fool! She loved him, and he ... She suddenly stopped short in her crying ... he had blown their chances for any getaway, she thought. That was why she was weeping, she didn't really love him. She'd only needed him when things had been really bad when she first came to the island. But the island was a beautiful setting, she had good food to eat and was given the best clothes to wear. All she had to do was go to bed with men and even that didn't matter any more!
Shirley got up off the bed and went over to the vanity to look at her watch. Christ! It was nearly time for her interview with Mr. Turner. Interview ... appointment ... rendezvous ... tryst? Which one was it to be or at least, turn into. She looked at her tear-stained face. She'd have to work especially hard to turn this one around! She'd need everything she'd learned in the way of "feminine wiles" to get out from under her present disgrace. She couldn't help but smile wanly at her mental description get out from under! That was a laugh, coming from her. That wasn't her business! Her business, especially this time, was to get under as fast and as entertainingly as possible.
With rapid, deft fingers she went to work on her face and hair and then shrewdly and swiftly, without consciously having to think about such a choice any more, picked out of her wardrobe exactly what she knew would provide Mr. Turner with the most satisfactory "explanation" of her situation. No, she corrected herself, the dress would help but the "explanation" was really something else again, and she had it all primed ... a hot, ready cunt between her legs.
With a flick of the wrist she finished off the arrangement of her hair and hurried out of the cabin. And so that's life, she shrugged. Who cares! I loved a man once, but from now on men are going to be my stepping stones, if I have anything to do with it!
