On the surface, a great American city has the look of cleanness, of light, of health. But scratch that surface, look down some of the dark alleys, inquire as to what lies beneath the bland smiles of some of the people you see lurking along its borders.
You will find that under the surface of the city lies another city. There are subterranean tunnels where young girls, which you may have seen just the day before-young girls, happy in the sunlight-disappear and are never seen again.
Beneath the visible city are squirming lakes of corruption, slime-walled caverns where lives are lived out in a horror surface-dwellers cannot conceive.
That elegant house you pass on the way to work in the morning; that store with the joking proprietor; that cafe with the smiling cashier-are they what they seem? Perhaps. And perhaps not.
They may be just houses, stores, cafes. But some may be the channels of degradation into which fresh, young girls vanish each year. Sometimes, in your casual walks, you may pass one of these girls, now a creature prematurely old, used as a car becomes used, who has come up for air.
Even had you known her once, and remember her as a ripe, virginal beauty, you would not recognize her now. Physically she has changed. But there is a greater change. Inside she carries the scars that this underground city has put upon her.
She no longer belong to the sunlight. She is now a creature of darkness, a dweller in degradation. This is the story of one of those girls.
Archive Note: The remarkable number of imaginatively misspelled words in the following text are exactly as found in the original pocketbook.
CHAPTER ONE
As she ran her hand through the tawny golden hair that fell like a cascade to her creamy shoulders, Melanie Powell flicked a wicked smile at her father as he sat across the table in Arturo's elegant and crowded restaurant at the San Francisco International Airport.
Ray Powell leaned forward and placed his muscular, manicured hand on hers. His deep black eyes swept appreciatively over her smooth youthfulness. What a daughter, he thought: sleek skin, eyes as dark as his own and slanting upwards at the corners; high, round cheekbones that gave her a strangely exotic and excitingly voluptuous look.
His eyes, moving down, came to a fatherly stop at the lovely, well-poised neck. After not seeing her since she was a child, this sudden confrontation in the airport restaurant was a bit of a shock. His daughter was no longer a child. This was a grown woman.
Despite his fatherly intention, he did let his eyes roam. In some ways she was a picture of her mother-the same languid sensuousness, the round full-blooming breasts, the waist of a far slimmer girl, the rounded hips, the melony buttocks leading down to the erotic thighs, the well-shaped, not-thin/not-heavy legs.
"Melanie," he said, "you've become the picture of your mother."
She smiled. "That's what people keep telling me. She's even more beautiful now."
"No kidding." He shook his head in reminiscence. "She was such a lovely woman. She had a beautiful body. I can't see how she could be more beautiful."
"I have a recent picture of her. Want to see it?"
"Sure," Ray said. "Let me see."
He watched as she dug in her purse. He felt strange, waiting to see what this woman he had divorced sixteen years ago would look like. As Melanie searched, he thought he'd give her a photo of himself to show her mother. She could see how well he had done in these years-the hand-tailored suit, the firm body still young, the deep tan that almost matched his light hair.
She held out the wallet. His eyes flicked and he turned away, a look of pain across his face.
Melanie closed the wallet quickly and put it back in her purse. "Gee, Dad, I'm sorry if I upset you."
Ray swallowed before speaking. "She's so different. I've had one image in mind of her all these years. God, how time has passed!" He picked up his drink and belted it down. "But if I've lost a lot of years, plus a wife, now I've found you. You're so much like your mother," he repeated.
Smiling, Melanie stretched, and the gown tightened across her lush breasts. "I'm glad, because she's still very good looking."
"She is," Ray nodded. "And so are you."
"Why, thanks, Dad."
Ray Powell felt himself covered from the emotional jolt of seeing the picture of the woman he had once loved. Still, he needed a moment alone to regain his composure. He stood up. "Excuse me, Melanie. I want to wash up before we eat." With the jolt under partial control, he settled again behind the facade he presented to the world-the successful advertising executive. "And don't call me Dad," he grinned. "Call me Ray." He winked at her and turned away.
She watched him go, her face expressing a kind of worry. Her father and mother had been divorced sixteen years ago, when she was so little she had hardly known him. And he, until now, had forgotten what she looked like. She hoped he was not too upset by her bringing up the past. She had become used to not having a father, but now that he was back, she thought it might be nice.
She relaxed and let her eyes cruise aimlessly around the glittering, first-class restaurant. Her thoughts cruised just as lazily: she was glad she had held off marriage for a while at least. Only recently she had graduated from Brantford State College. She remembered the marriages of some of her college friends. They had rushed into them, and Melanie now shuddered. After a year of fun, they each began with the babies, the shortness of money, the quarrels. God, I'm glad I waited, she thought.
As the muted tones of conversation reached her from the other tables she had a sudden feeling of happiness-coming to San Francisco from Iowa had been the smartest move she'd ever made. With her father's contacts in the advertising world she should have no trouble getting a place as a receptionist in an office that wanted a beautiful girl up front. She smiled and glanced down to where her impudent breasts were poking out of her sheer dress-if I say so myself, she grinned inwardly, I'm kind of beautiful up front all right!
Then, reverting to seriousness, she calculated that with her college record, and the fact that she would not leave a job for marriage, could prompt an employer to keep her and promote her.
Suddenly she was conscious of a man's voice beside her.
"Excuse me, miss. Can I trouble you for a moment?"
She turned and saw a young couple at the next table. She smiled.
"We're new here in Frisco," he said. "We have a rental car and we want to drive up to-to-" He turned to the girl. "What's that place?"
She hesitated a moment. "Nob Hill."
"Yeah, that's it. Nob Hill. Do you know how to get there?"
"I'm afraid not."
The young man eyed her closely. "I'm sorry we bothered you, but we're supposed to meet some people up there and we can't figure what road to take. When I look at a map I get all disoriented and before you know it I'm lost in West Chicken Wing, Nebraska." He seemed to Melanie to be talking for the mere sake of talking.
"Why don't you ask the bartender," she said, tossing back her long waving blonde hair. The motion caused her breasts to bounce and she noticed that the movement had not escaped the young man.
The girl next to him was also eyeing her. Melanie glanced over at her, then looked away. She wasn't sure of the intentions of these two. Perhaps they were on the level. But there was an air of intensity about them, a kind of suppressed intentness that she did not like. When she had left Iowa for the Coast she had made up her mind never to talk to strangers. She was not going to make the same silly mistakes all the foolish young yokel country girls made when they hit the big city. But then she chided herself for her suspicions.
She smiled at the young man and his companion. "I really don't know the way. I'm new here. Just got in this morning, in fact."
As she spoke, her eyes flicked to the girl. God, what a beauty, Melanie thought. She was expensively dressed in a gray herringbone suit that followed every line of her figure. Tall, she sat back easily, one arm on the back of the lounge settee. Through the suit Melanie could see the ripe, uptilting breasts and the lush thighs as she sat with her legs crossed. Her high-cheekboned face was framed in glowing red hair that had a wild, but controlled, look. It fell behind her in flowing russet waves. As she sat, she kept time with her leg to the soft music, and the rhythmic movement caused her breasts to shimmer like water under a light breeze.
"We have to be at that party on Nob Hill," she said in a softly warm voice.
Melanie saw her father approaching, looking far more composed than when he had left.
"Why don't you ask my father," she said. "Here he comes now. He's lived here for many years."
Ray Powell came up to the table with two bourbon old-fashioneds.
"Dad-er, Ray," Melanie began, "these people want to get to Nob Hill, and I don't have the faintest idea-"
"Simple," said Ray, putting down the drinks and then sitting. "Head out that way." He pointed. "You'll be on 101. Follow it north, to where it becomes the Skyway. At the sign for the Embarcadero, turn left and you're in the Nob Hill section."
He turned back to Melanie. She could see the young couple watching them speculatively, wondering whether he really was her father. Ray set the drink before her, picked up his, and winked at her over the rim as he took a sip.
She sighed. She was almost sorry this handsome, tall, virile man was her father. Too bad, with that slim yet muscular figure that belonged to a college kid, and that brisk, business-like but masculinely attractive air about him, he would have been someone any girl could warm up to. There was a little physical likeness between them, she realized. She had almost totally favored her mother.
Yet a slight pain went through her as she watched him. In all the years she had not seen him, she had made him into an idol, almost a god and wondered if any other man would ever elicit in her this same sensation, this ... What was it, she wondered. She asked herself, too, if this intensity was natural, the way she idolized him. She felt herself blushing at the thought of how unnatural, almost perverted, her musings were.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," Ray said, and she laughed happily. Just the sound of his deep, authoritative voice changed her mood.
They both turned from the young couple. Ray told her of his work in advertising, occasionally signaling the waiter for a refill. As she sipped at her third bourbon old-fashioned she really felt he was not her father. More like a good date, she thought. She could now very easily call him Ray. He seemed so much livelier, intelligent and knowledgeable than the college kids she had dated back in Iowa and who succeeded only in boring her. Again she found her emotions transcending the mere admiration of a daughter. Quickly she looked for a way to get her mind off the subject.
The waiter appeared with their dinner. Melanie stared at her father.
He laughed. "I eat here often with clients. Al here," he jerked a thumb at the waiter, "knows all my preferences, right Al?"
"You said it, Mr. Powell. Your dad knows what's good, Miss Powell. We prepared the specialty of the house especially for you."
"That's right," Ray said. "I had them prepare something you don't see in Iowa-saltimbocca alia Romana."
Her eyes widened. "What's that?"
"Pure heaven, that's what it is. Wait till you try it."
A few minutes later she was in love with saltimbocca alia Romana, with the crisp, white wine, with the salad and plain Italian oil and vinegar, and with her father.
"Ray," she sighed, "you sure know how to make a girl happy! This is a dream!"
He smiled, his eyes lingering on hers a long time. She knew she looked luscious, and was glad she had chosen the right dress. It was a bright blue shantung sheath that was very chic with her tan and her tawny hair. The neckline was low enough to show the beginnings of her young full breasts. As she sipped her wine she enjoyed his glances as they traveled over her.
When they finished dinner he slid around on the settee so that he was beside her. His arm went around her, his big hand resting easily on her hip. He cleared his throat several times, then took his hand away. His voice was almost a whisper as he said: "A girl like you must have dozens of boyfriends. Do I have much competition?"
"None at all," she said. "They're all smart-alecky kids. You, now, you're ... you're...." She blushed and stammered. "Well, any girl would be out of her skull not to appreciate a father like you."
He grinned. "Now, you don't have to snow me." He signalled to Al. "Al, how about bringing this lovely lady and me a cognac. And no house brands, either. Courvoisier."
"House brands? For you, Mr. Powell? Never."
Ray turned to her again. "And neither can you snow me. I can't believe a beautiful girl like you isn't involved with a boyfriend."
"True," she said. The old-fashioneds, the white wine, and now the anticipation of the cognac, seemed to put her tongue on ball bearings. She wanted to confide all her secret thoughts to Ray. "I date a lot, but after a while these kids bore me. All they seem to want is sex. All they want to do is park their car and start with the hands. Sex-starved, everyone. Some of them even ask you, before they'll date you, if you'll sleep with them. All they seem to know is sex."
"Well," Ray said, "isn't that pretty natural? After all, they--"
"Maybe it is, but you see, it's ... well, they ... what I mean is ... they always want you to do ... other things."
Ray frowned. "I don't think I follow you."
"Well, I mean, they ... well ... most of the girls I roomed with and knew, they never waited for marriage. They didn't seem to have any morals at all."
"Well, it's good you're careful," the father said in deep concern, his paternal instincts aglow, "you don't want to wake up pregnant some morning." He lifted the cognac Al had brought them, swirled the rich, brown liquid in the napoleon glass, sniffed the stinging bouquet and took a sip. "It's good at your age not to be tied down. Date one, then another. That's the best way." His eyes studied the mane of blonde hair that framed her lovely face.
"It seems to me," she said, "that people pay far too much attention to material and physical aspects of life."
He nodded and seemed to go into a thoughtful period during which, for a few seconds, he stared down at the tablecloth. Melanie studied his handsome face, admitting to herself that there was one story she had not-and probably would not-confide to him. She had, one semester, been elected Harvest Queen. This popularity, along with her looks and figure, had brought her more dates than she could handle. Although her friends had let themselves go, she, because of the strong religious training her mother had instilled in her, had always refused to indulge. She had always been proud that-hard as it had been-she had constantly resisted temptation.
But one semester there had been a boy she really had loved. She had once let him unhook her bra, roll up her sweater, and knead her naked breasts until the nipples had stood swollen and quivering. She had almost been out of her mind with this new and unfamiliar sensation and she never noticed that one of his hands had slipped under her tweed skirt. His middle finger had wormed under the legband of the light panties into the warm moist slit of her vagina. It had taken all her strength to make him pull it out. She had gone almost insane as the cool air rushed in to replace the warmly exploring finger. Somehow, though, she knew she had done right, and had stopped seeing him. Just thinking about it now made her uneasy.
She returned to reality as her father rose, paid the check, and pulled out her chair for her. Again she admired the way, sophisticated assurance with which he moved, the poise with which he held out a bill to Al, who almost bowed his thanks.
As Ray and Melanie walked into the warm night, the young couple watched them go. Then the man patted the girl's hand. "Angie, you must be thinking the same thing I am."
The girl threw back her long red hair and laughed. "I sure am, Harry. She's perfect. Clean and innocent and beautiful."
"I wonder if her old man will fall for the party gag? He might want to spend the whole evening with his daughter."
"Or maybe he might go for it. Show her life with a capital L."
Harry rose. "Well, let's go. We'll find out if they buy it. We'll catch them at the parking lot."
It was a clear, warm evening. The lights of the buildings surrounding the airport glittered on the lawns, walks, and drives. The airport was in a turmoil of activity. Melanie, with her hand on her father's arm, walked leisurely. And Ray thought: we almost look like lovers. He smiled to himself. He wondered if any of the people who stole admiring glances at Melanie would believe them to be father and daughter.
She, in her turn, was thinking back to the week before she had left Iowa, when the girl with whom she roomed had asked her, on Sunday, to leave so she could be alone with her boyfriend. When Melanie returned from an afternoon at the movies, her roommate had described everything that had taken place.
She had gone into loving detail about playing with her boyfriend's penis until it was stiff and red, and about the way she had almost choked on it as she took it in her mouth and sucked greedily on it. And how he had reciprocated-"Tit for tat," her roommate had joked-by going down on her naked body, running his wet tongue between her legs while he rubbed her breasts into hot excitement.
Melanie had never been so revolted. Her father saw her face. "What's the matter, dear?"
"Oh, I just remembered my roommate, the things she did with her boyfriend. And once he had two more girls there. Three at a time!"
Ray felt a shiver on his spine, which raced to his loins and turned to heat. "Some man, to take care of three girls at once." He laughed. "Things have sure changed since I was in school." He wanted to talk about it further, driven on by the sudden warmth in his loins, but realized it was best to let the subject drop.
But Melanie went on. "She got pregnant, my roommate, and they had to get married. I made up my mind-I'm not getting married, not for a long time. I worked hard to get good grades in school and I don't want some man to come along and spoil it all by giving me a house full of kids."
They were nearing the lot where Ray's big "lver-grey Lincoln Continental was parked. "Well, s I said, things have changed. When I was your age he girls all wanted one thing-marriage."
As they neared his car Melanie saw two people approaching.
"Aren't they the couple who asked us directions to Nob Hill?"
Ray examined them. "Yes, they are."
As Ray and Melanie drew near, the young couple purposely stopped and began to study a map, pretending not to notice.
"Still puzzled?" Ray asked.
The man looked up, appearing startled to see them. "Oh. Hi. Yeah, still lost."
"Let me see your map," Ray offered. "Maybe I can steer you."
Harry handed Ray the map, after a quick glance at the red-haired girl. Then his eyes swept over to Melanie. She felt uneasy under his gaze-as if he were undressing her.
"Look," Ray said. "You're here at the airport, south of San Francisco. Drive out that gate and you'll see signs for Route 101. Take it north and-"
"Say, I have a better idea," the man said. "Incidentally, my name's Harry King. And this is Angie."
Ray held out his hand. "I'm Ray Powell. This is my daughter Melanie."
"What a lovely name," Angie said. "And a lovely girl."
Melanie blushed and murmured: "Thank you." She felt the girl, too, was stripping her naked.
"Look," said Harry King. "You said it's not far, right?"
Ray nodded.
"Well, why don't you both come to this party with us? You lead and we'll follow. It's on Caxton Lane in Nob Hill-one of those big old houses. Number 36 Caxton Lane."
Angie nodded eagerly. "That's a great idea. It's early, not even nine. You can stay as long as you want. It's a nice group of people. I know you'll enjoy meeting them. What do you say?"
Ray looked at his daughter. She didn't seem overjoyed at the prospect. She wanted to get up early tomorrow morning for some sight-seeing and then visit some job contacts Ray had set up for her. .
But Ray seemed amenable. Besides he could do with another drink or two. And this redhead ... He glanced at her. Her green eyes fixed steadily on his, a slight smile on her full red lips. What a body, he thought. Even in the grey herringbone suit its voluptuous lines were fulsomely evident.
"How about it, dear?" he asked Melanie.
She shrugged, reluctantly. "All right, if you want to. But let's not stay too long."
Ray held open the door of his Continental for Melanie, and crossed to the drivers side. The powerful Lincoln engine purred to life, followed closely by Harry and Angie in a bright yellow Le Mans. Under Ray's skillful hand they cruised north, turned off, and threaded their way into the streets of the fashionable Nob Hill section, past great old mansions and tree-shaded avenues, checking his rear view mirror occasionally to make sure the Le Mans was behind them.
Melanie watched the houses go by. So this is the famous Nob Hill, she thought. But it made little impression on her. Somehow she felt cold, as if she anticipated an experience that would be unpleasant.
"Here we are," Ray said. "Caxton Lane. See if you can find 36."
She peered at the illuminated house numbers. "62. 58. 50. There's 40. 36, right there. That big one with the lights on."
The sleek, grey machine stopped smoothly. The Le Mans slid to a halt right behind them. Harry and Angie stepped out and led Ray and Melanie up to the door. Even before they could ring the bell, Melanie noted, the door opened. Had someone been watching for them, waiting?
A tall, thin, pock-marked young man let them in. Harry introduced him briefly as Sam, whose eyes came to rest on Melanie. She shivered and was ready to ask her father to take her away, but Ray was engrossed in conversation with Angie. Harry led the way as they entered an enormous living room. The few pieces of the spare furniture seemed expensive, but they merely accentuated the emptiness of the room. There was a bare, abandoned aspect to it. A thick wall-to-wall carpet covered the floor. At the center, a long bright red sofa. In front of it was a coffee table made of a huge slab of redwood. A few small tables were against the walls.
"I guess they went on to another party," Harry said. "The party's over."
"At ten o'clock?" Melanie could not help asking.
Harry laughed uneasily. "I guess-maybe they all went...." He shrugged.
Melanie looked around. The dull-eyed man named Sam had his eyes riveted on her breasts, outlined in the shantung sheath.
A door at the other end of the room opened and a tall, fat man came in. "That's right, Harry," he said in a booming voice. "The party broke up a while ago. They all went on to-went on to another party. Mr. Bunyan," he said, addressing Ray and Melanie, "he wanted to go on. He's the man who owns this place. My name's Leroy." He waved at Sam. "Sam, go get some drinks for these nice people."
As Sam left, another man entered. Melanie's heart began to thump. How many people were there in this house? And why did they all look like gangsters? This one was sallow-faced, and looked as if he had been drinking. She tried to catch her father's eye and again plead with him to get her away from here, but he was in a whispered conversation with the sultry red-haired Angie, who laughed and licked her wet tongue over her full, red lips.
"I'm sorry about this, Ray," Harry said. "But let's have a drink anyway. As soon as that clown Sam gets in here with the makings. Really, I feel awful, dragging you people to a dead party."
The idea of another drink was tempting to Ray, particularly since it would give him a chance to talk more with this exciting red-maned girl. Already she seemed to like him. The thought of those shimmering breasts and rounded thighs nearly made him break into a cold sweat.
Sam finally returned with a huge tray on which were glasses, ice, and bottles of scotch, rye, vodka, gin, bourbon, and vermouth.
"Now you folks just relax," Harry said. "Call out your pleasures." He gave a quick, authoritative flick of his head and Sam and Leroy, and the last man, Clyde, quickly disappeared through the door.
Harry waved a glass. "What'll you have?"
Ray said: "Bourbon on the rocks."
"Vodka and water," Angie selected.
When Melanie did not speak, Harry looked at her. "And Miss Melanie, what can we do for her?"
"Nothing right now, thanks," she said softly. Melanie sat on the huge, red sofa, careful to pull the sheath down over her knees as far as it would go. She saw Harry's eyes flick down to her legs. Something about this whole thing made her uncomfortable. She wished her father would take his eyes from Angie and take her away from this place.
Harry made the drinks and passed them around. Ray and Angie sat on chairs at the far end of the room, their heads close together, whispering like two kids who have suddenly discovered each other.
Harry came over to Melanie. "Suppose I make you a light one?"
She shrugged. "All right." She really didn't care. Her father had had too much and now his arm was on Angie's shoulder, the strong manicured fingers softly stroking the fabric of the grey suit. He put his glass down on a small table and took her hand.
"I'll make you a light martini," Harry said. "It's a good drink when friends get together." His eyes held a mocking gleam and again she trembled slightly. He handed her the drink. She sipped sparingly.
"Good?" he asked.
She nodded. "Fine."
Harry went to the wall and flipped a switch. Instantly the room flooded with soft music. "Mr. Bunyan has the whole house wired. You can get jazz, rock, easy listening. Me, I prefer easy listening. How about you?"
She nodded again, and turned to see her father take Angie in his arms and begin to dance her around the room.
Melanie watched as he pulled the girl close to him, squashing the large, full breasts against his chest as they moved seductively to the slow, insistent beat of the music. Melanie felt anger rise up inside her as Angie's ruby lips opened and then flickered lightly over Ray's neck. At one point she saw the young girl's teeth sink gently but firmly into the tanned flesh below her father's ear.
Ray drew her even closer. They were hardly moving now. His left hand went up to cup the shimmering red hair, then followed its cascade slowly down to her back, his fingers playing with the silky strands, his eyes closed as he moved tightly against the girl.
Melanie felt a bitter taste in her mouth as Angie's hands slipped down to Ray's back just above his belt, pulling him even closer to her.
God, she thought, as she watched the couple writhe against each other, this is what the girls back at school used to call "dry humping. "And in front of his own daughter! Melanie drew a deep breath. He must be very drunk indeed. Wasn't a parent the one supposed to be a chaperone, she thought acidly,,instead of the other way around?
Beside her Harry King stirred. "What say we dance too?"
"N-no, thanks," she said. "I'd rather not right now, if you don't mind."
"Now, don't be a wet blanket, honey. Look at your father. He's no party-pooper."
She sighed. She didn't want to be rude. And somehow she had the feeling that she had better not antagonize this man. "All right." She rose, and Harry led the tawny-haired Melanie to the center of the room. There he spun her roughly and brought her into his arms. He pressed into her so that the full, sharp nipples of her young breasts were mashed tightly into his chest.
Harry pulled her hip-section closer to him, causing the growing bulge in his groin to rub along her thigh. The thin material of her sheath dress offered no resistance seemed to hide nothing. She sensed that he could feel the firm flesh of her thigh moving unintentionally, from the motion of the dance, between his own legs.
He eased up at that moment. She was a real beauty, he thought, with a body to drive a man out of his gourd. But he didn't want to spoil anything so soon. He danced her around sedately a few more minutes, giving her a chance to regain her composure. Then, when he felt her body relax, he glanced over at Angie, who was grinding her leg slowly and rhythmically against the thrusting stiffness of Ray's cock, building him into a state of inebriated lust. Harry made a brief motion with his head.
Melanie gasped as she saw Angie whisper in her father's ear. Then Ray, with his arm around the red-haired girl, followed her through one of the doors at the back of the room. She wanted to call him back, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. She tried again and only a squeaky sound came out.
Ray turned and waved fuzzily, as if to say he would be back shortly. She sighed again and allowed Harry to spin her around the room. The music went on and on. Harry now began to be insistent once more. She felt the thrust of his cock grinding into her.
"Excuse me a minute," she said. "I'm getting a little tired."
"Okay," Harry replied. "Let's have another drink, just to cool off."
She moved to one of the heavily-draped windows. Now she was no longer uneasy. She was frightened. Suddenly not caring what Harry thought, she went to the door through which her father and Angie had passed. Harry watched her go, a smile on his face.
Behind the door was a staircase. She began climbing, hoping to find her father and beg him to get her out of this evil place. What right had he to subject his own daughter to this? He had left her alone with that Harry, with his insinuating smirk and those horrid eyes that seemed to look right through her clothing.
On her first day here with her father she'd thought he would have taken better care of her.
Yet what was he doing now? Probably sitting somewhere with that pneumatic redhead, drinking....
Reaching the top of the stairs, she found herself in a long hallway, with doors on either side. A soft overhead fixture illuminated the hall, but there were no lights under any of the doors. Except one. She opened one of the dark doors. The pale light from the hall enabled her to see dimly. It was a bedroom, with deep red drapes. She tried another, somehow afraid to admit the existence of the lighted room. This one too was a bedroom, luxuriously furnished, this time with purple drapes.
A suspicion in her mind quickly became a realization. This wasn't anyone's home. Mr. Bunyan, if he existed at all, didn't live here. This was-a-
She couldn't even think the word. Her religious education, her almost Puritannical upbringing, did not allow the existence of the word. But it did exist! Her denial could not wipe it out. The word existed.
And the word was whorehouse.
Perhaps because it was midweek, it was closed down. But there were signs of recent use all over-here a butt in an ashtray, there a whiff of something she had never known except in her own-her own-well, she had to admit it. She did masturbate, and the odor was of-of what comes out.
She covered her face with her hands in a sudden uprush of fear. Hold on, she told herself. Don't panic. Take it slow. She had to get out of here. Maybe a back way ... she spun back into the hall.
But her attention was again seized by the strip of light under the one door. At the same time she heard a soft groan from behind it. Oh God, she thought. Was her father hurt? Her first impulse was to get into that room immediately. She ran toward the door, grasped the knob, then froze.
From inside the room came a girl's deep throaty laugh.
What's going on? she asked herself in panic. Who's with him? Angie? What was she doing to him? She remembered the greasy looks of the men downstairs-Sam, Leroy, Clyde-and her skin went cold. Were they hurting him? But what about the girl's laugh?
She leaned closer to the door, her ear toward the panel. She heard a voice. No, it was two. She listened more closely. It was a woman's voice; soft, purring. Then a man's, speaking only in sighs. Was it her father? She couldn't really tell. But it was-anguished, pleading!
Melanie heard muffled sighs once again, then several quick gasps followed by hoarse panting, as if someone was having trouble breathing. Over this came the sound of sporadic giggles from the woman.
Once again Melanie was trying to get up the courage to throw open the door, but was stopped by a loud feminine peal of laughter. She detected an almost sadistic chortling in it. Then a moist gurgle ... from her father? ... followed by what sounded almost like a helpless whimper. And this was followed, in turn, by a loud, humid, wet slapping sound she couldn't identify.
She took her hand from the knob. What was going on in there? Her heart was thumping in her chest. Her palms felt wet. It was definitely her father's voice. But in her innocence she could not understand what Angie was doing to him to cause those high-pitched moans and pleading whimpers.
Then it suddenly came to her. Oh God! Maybe he-She blushed. But she had to admit the possibility that he was making those sounds not out of anguish or pain but out of pleasure. Maybe he was getting a hedonistic ecstasy out of whatever was being done to him.
She leaned her head to the door again and heard what may have been the sound of a slap; a hand against flesh. Then her father's voice:
"Oh yes yes yes! Do it again! Do it more!"
"The belt?" came Angie's voice.
"Yes the belt ... the belt...."
Melanie then heard strange swishing sounds followed by what sounded to her like leather cracking against flesh. But she couldn't be sure. She had never heard anything like it before.
"Yes yes yes yes! Harder...."
"If that's what you want, man," she heard the tense, excited girl's voice say, "I'll give it to you but good!"
Once more she heard the repetitious sharp cracks. And once more her father's cry: "Oh that's good, that's wonderful! Don't stop now! Harder! Further down ... ah, right there ... yesssss...."
Melanie leaned back against the wall. She covered her face with her hands. She could no longer deny it-her father was enjoying it. But what was it? Were those three vile men in there quietly, but forcefully, holding him down? But if so, why would he be asking for more, pleading for Angie to give him more of whatever she was giving him?
She moved and a floorboard creaked like a gun shot. Her heart gave a lurch and nearly stopped beating. They couldn't have missed it! she thought, but the sounds kept coming from behind the door. Now the leathery cracking sounds had stopped. She could hear bedsprings squeaking, and the sounds of flesh slithering against bed linen.
More murmurings and wet gurglings came from the room. She had to see. If it killed her, she had to know what was going on. Very slowly she turned the knob and opened the door a crack. The interior of the room came into view. There was a bureau beside a draped window, with a basin and a pitcher on it. Two small lamps cast a soft light over the room. There was a bed.
Melanie stiffened in horror. Stretched out on the bed was her father, completely naked! He was prone on his back. His long, hard penis was pointing stiffly at the ceiling. Squatting above him was Angie, just as naked. As Melanie peered in shock, Angie brought her lipsticked mouth close to the head of his throbbing shaft. Melanie's eyes widened in disbelief. Was this her father? She nearly passed out at the jolt. But her curiosity overcame her consternation. She couldn't tear her eyes from the bed.
Angie knelt over her father's thighs, her long delicately curving legs wide apart, the rich full mounds of her breasts dipping and brushing over the tops of his thighs. Her head bent down to his lust-stiffened cock, and her body heaved in rhythm to the sucking of her mouth on his thick member, her cheeks puffed out, then hollowed obscenely as she pulled her head all the way up the monstrous length of Ray's throbbing shaft. On the outstroke the thick bulbous head was left buried in her mouth and she licked her tongue around its rubbery edge, swiping at it greedily. Melanie couldn't believe her father was encouraging this. But to her disgust and shock, he was grunting in blissful gratitude as Angie reached down to the heavy sperm-gorged testicles and pinched the soft tender skin with the tips of her fingers.
Melanie let out a long gasp as she strained closer to get a better view of the two figures writhing on the bed. She could discern the contortion of her father's violently twisting features. God, he really loved being licked between his legs like that, she whispered unbelievingly to herself. His mouth opened in a rhapsodic smile, his tongue licking at his moist and gaping lips. His eyes were half-closed, his brow furrowed into deep concentration. His buttocks began a salacious pumping movement that seemed to swish obscenely against the sheets.
Suddenly she saw her father raise his arms from the bed and reach forward until his hands were under Angie's swaying breasts. His hands opened and the fingertips brushed over the rapidly stiffening nipples. They seemed to move in slow teasing circles around the red center buds, causing wet sucking sounds and further squeals of pleasure from the girl. But it did not interrupt her lips; they nibbled steadily at the large upstanding member. Melanie tried to take a deep breath. There was no doubt about it-Angie was enjoying this and so was her father. The tears of confusion, disappointment and rage welled up in her eyes.
She watched as her father closed his fingers around the sensuous redhead's hard erect nipples and began tweaking them sharply. Angie let out a
"That's nice!" and then sat up on the bed, letting Ray's wet and glistening penis slip from her mouth with a moist sluicing noise. Then she embraced it between her fingers. She began stroking the red, blood-engorged shaft rapidly between her hands. Melanie could see the long thick penis grow even larger with each successive stroke. She was only a short distance from the horrifying tableau, and she was afraid that one false step now would call attention to her presence.
She held her breath and looked again. Angie's gently clasping fingers skinned the thick foreskin of her father's uncircumcized cock rapidly up and down its full length. The huge bulbous head burst into view like a scarlet-headed snake coming out from its dark lair. With each downward stroke Angie made, Melanie could see her contorted mouth open in a silent whimper as his hands pulled and massaged her breasts harshly. She began hard rhythmic jerks with her hands on the sperm-inflated member while he rolled the soft firm globes of her swinging breasts between his fingers and pressed them maddeningly back against her chest. The lamp shone softly on the scene and cast a lewd light over her father's genitals. She was close enough to see that his penis was now covered with a white creamy fluid that must be the lubrication the girls said seeped from men's penises when they became excited. His cock looked tremendous to her, since she had never seen one before, and she wondered how it felt to have something that big slip up inside her belly. It must be painful and she felt she could never take it.
Her father rose and she froze at the door. He was getting up and raising himself from under Angie. He was going to see her! Then she choked back a sigh of relief as he knelt down beside the wanton redhead and forced her back down on the bed. Angie now lay in a position of total subjugation under him, her mouth hanging open, her nakedly spread out thighs quivering helplessly as he stroked his fingers up and down the moist and streaming lips of her now hungry cunt.
Melanie's heart began to pound like thunder in her chest. Her father knelt over the voluptuously reclining girl. She watched in horror as he leaned down over her supplicant white body. He slowly lowered himself and positioned his huge cock threateningly over her lewdly undulating loins. Melanie could see Angie's widespread, creamy thighs stretch wider apart to accept the entrance of her father's great blood-filled cock up inside the slowly parting lips of her moistly glistening vagina. His buttocks squirmed roughly as they thrust down toward the wet pulsing juncture between her legs. His hands reached down to the full firm moons of her buttocks and pulled them up toward the straining head of his cock as it slowly entered the pink wet vestibule of her warm and welcoming vagina.
Melanie's head spun. She tried to close her eyes on the unbelievable act being played out before her. There, on that bed, was her own father, his thick lust-incited penis now buried fully in that woman's wetly clinging vagina! The two were now slowly pumping their loins and squirming against each other.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Angie breathed. "Your cock feels so nice and big and wet. That's goooooood!"
Melanie wanted to run into the room and tear the two slimy bodies apart. She felt her eyes blurring again with tears. She wanted to run but knew her legs would fail her. She could do nothing but hold on to the door frame and watch and listen in horror as this brazen redheaded slut made love to her father. She lifted her hands to her ears to shut out the sounds of their lewd pleasure, but it did not help. They came through-wet sucking noises punctuated occasionally by small squeaks and deep groans of totally absorbed ecstasy. Ray continued his slow gyrating movement over the girl impaled beneath him. He withdrew slightly, his thick fleshy shaft sliding out for several inches, then thrust forward again, holding it there, high up inside the redhead's nakedly quivering belly. He withdrew once more, until the underside of the bulbous pink head was visible.
Melanie repressed a scream as she watched Angie's long curving legs reach up to wrap themselves cozily around her father's hips, her heels tight against his taut and clenched ass-cheeks, straining to pull him back inside her, where she wanted him.
The cords of the inside of Angie's thighs flexed tightly as she pushed her wet hair-covered pussy back over the equally wet and glistening cock. Her full, soft buttocks, quivering now, lifted a few inches off the bed as she struggled upwards trying whimperingly to absorb the entire stiffly bulging instrument back in to the fleshy pink folds of her hungry cunt. Ray gasped and his hands opened over her softly heaving breasts, leaning on them and shoving them back up hard against the wall of her chest as he rammed the full length of his cock back into her moist demanding pussy.
"Ahhhhh! That's it!" the girl breathed. Melanie saw the fleshy ring on her vagina clasp tightly around the lustfully driving maleness. The enormous bulk of his organ stretched the mouth-shaped lips cruelly apart as he thrust deep, causing the soft hairy skin of his testicles to slap against the sensitive outer ring of her tiny pink and exposed anus. He sank the long hard shaft into the narrow pink slit with a force that brought a loud gasp of pain from Angie, like the cry of a wounded animal.
Ray's buttocks pumped furiously as he slammed the huge wet pole into the hotly clasping cunt in a mad rhythm that increased briskly until Melanie almost felt sorry for Angie. He's going to kill her. He'll tear her apart! How can any woman take that!
The red-headed girl's eyes widened went, glassy. She stared at the ceiling, but was seeing nothing. Her mouth hung open and her face turned a deep crimson as though the long punishing instrument ramming deep into her naked belly was battering up into her throat, choking her. But through it all her pelvis continued to screw itself steadily upward, up the wildly throbbing length of the cruelly probing cock, twisting and writhing like a belly dancer, her legs now spread wide apart. Suddenly she pulled her legs up to her shoulders almost, bending them at the knees and spurring him on with the heels of her bare feet digging into his madly driving buttocks.
Melanie's breath seemed to stop as the lewdly locked bodies drove and rocked and pumped. The bedsprings began to sing a frantic tune. Angie's legs scissored open, jerking out to both sides of the bed. Tiny streams of sweat trickled down Ray's back and ran in small shining rivulets down the convulsing cheeks of his straining buttocks. He continued to ram the full length of his tunneling cock inside her helplessly quivering vagina until her mouth opened. She let out a shrill animal scream of pure ecstasy.
Ray stayed on his hands and knees a moment over the furiously writhing redhead. There was a low male groan from him. Angie's body seemed to vibrate and the wild lunging gyrations of her hips slowed to tight spasmodic jerks against the cock still pistoning into her upturned dripping cunt. Her nostrils flared and a long last gasp of breath raspingly burst from her lungs. Then she collapsed under him, her body twitching uncontrollably as though being slapped by an unseen hand. His hands cupped her still quivering buttocks and pulled her towards for one last brutal lunge of his spearing rod as it spewed his hot male sperm into the wet depths of her womb. It filled her totally and overflowed with her own come juices and ran out of the still pulsing lips of the now softly contracting pussy. Melanie watched in stunned silence as her father collapsed over Angie's spent and bruised body. They lay still, a loose knot of arms and legs, intertwined, their breathing slowing to small gasps.
Melanie took one final horrified look. She was sobbing now and she turned down the hall toward the stairs, she didn't care if the two in the room heard her. Her last glimpse had been of them lying exhausted, both moist with sweat and, at their genital area, wet with smeared come.
And she had been worried about her father! He had gone with that woman because he had wanted to. He had enjoyed himself. It was what he had wanted. As she went, she thought that downstairs she would insist that Harry call her a cab, before her father came down. She didn't want to see him again-ever.
As she entered the living room she saw Harry sitting with the other men, Sam, Leroy, and Clyde. Harry rose and closed the door behind her. A small chill went through her. She glanced at the others. The pock-marked Sam was staring at her with a reptilian intensity. Again the chill of fear crawled up her spine. She backed up to the door. Her hand went out to the knob. She turned it and-
It was locked!
Oh God, she thought. I was right to be afraid. What she had seen in the upstairs room, and now the locked door, blended and washed a wave of panic over her.
She opened her mouth to scream, hoping her father, despite his lust-induced stupor, would hear her, but it was cut off abruptly by a rough hand pressed tightly over her lips.
The fat man, Leroy, had jumped up in a move surprisingly agile for so heavy a person and now held her from behind. She tried to twist away but his hands were firm on her arm and mouth. She tried to scream but only a muffled cry came out.
Sam still stared at her, licking his lips. She tried to kick backward at Leroy's legs but he nimbly sidestepped. He wrenched at her arm and began dragging her through another door.
As she began to struggle Sam leaped up and grabbed her legs. He grinned obscenely and stared up her dress as it climbed up her legs during her struggles.
"Go ahead," he hissed. "Keep kickin! It loosens up the twat. Keep kickin'."
The two carried her into a kitchen adjoining the living room. Leroy sank into a chair and pulled her down to hold her. She was partially sitting, partially lying across him. His hand was still across her mouth. Her eyes opened wide as Harry came in and closed the door. Again she began to struggle, but Sam, holding on to her legs, began to dig his nails into the flesh of her calves. Through her efforts she heard a sound. Her father was coming down the stairs with Angie.
Harry made a motion. "Keep her quiet." The hand tightened across her mouth and Sam's fingers dug deeper into her legs.
My God, she thought, sizing up the situation, Harry was going to tell her father she had left. He wouldn't realize until morning that she had not returned to her hotel. By then who knows what will have happened to her, where she would be.
Harry went into the living room. Through the closed door she heard his voice. "Ray, your daughter took off, I'm afraid. She seemed tired and upset and asked me to get her a cab."
Ray's voice seemed as if he was still in never-never land from Angie's expert treatment. "What? Oh-well-couldn't you ask her to wait?"
"I tried," Harry said. "But she insisted. I couldn't keep her against her will. Besides, you were gone better than an hour." He chuckled. "Time flies when you're with Angie."
Inside the living room, the luscious redheaded girl smiled dreamily. Above her waist she had on only the jacket of the grey suit. It was open, partially exposing the sensual breasts still incarnadined from Ray's excited and brutal manipulations.
"Yeah," Ray said fuzzily. "Well, I'll talk to her in the morning. I'll call her at her hotel." He shook himself into wakefulness. "Well, I've got to be going. You coming?"
"No," Harry replied. "Angie and I are going to wait and see if-if Mr. Bunyan shows. You go. I'm sorry Melanie left."
From the other room Melanie heard every word. As she heard her father say "All right, good night," she redoubled her efforts. But Leroy and Sam were too much for her. Both of them rendered her soundless and motionless. She heard the outside door shut and knew she was alone in a situation that terrified her, primarily because she didn't know what it meant and what was intended for her.
Then Harry came back into the kitchen. "Okay, boys, you can let her go. She's all ours now."
CHAPTER TWO
Melanie sat on the sofa, half out of her mind with fear, trying to ignore the leering scrutiny of the four men. They had moved back into the living room. At one point Harry went to a far corner of the room and made a brief phone call. He kept his voice down and she understood not a word. Leroy went around the room picking up glasses and taking them out to the kitchen. Sam and Clyde just sat staring at her, their eyes like lewd tongues over her body.
The atmosphere tightened as she realized they were waiting. But for whom? And why? The men's eyes constantly flicked from her to the door, as if they expected it to open any second. The dripping lechery in their glances when they looked at her made her sick. She tried to tell herself this was all a dream, that she wasn't trapped in an old mansion in a quiet section of San Francisco. It seemed incredible-maybe it would turn out to be a practical joke, with Harry laughing and taking her back to her hotel.
Then reality returned. From now on she was on her own. She alone would engineer her release-if she could. Partially all this was her fault. She had, even if reluctantly, allowed her father to accept Harry's invitation. But, she now realized, her own innocence, her country-girl naivete, had caused her to trust her father and assume he knew what he was doing. The trauma of seeing him upstairs, being sucked dry by Angie and then fucking her until her eyes glazed, tore away any illusions she had about her father's judgment. In the morning he would contact her downtown hotel. When he found she had not returned what would he think? By the time he concluded she had never left the old mansion, that she had been there when he left, she would be-Where? Where would she be? And what would have been done to her?
"Please," she heard herself cry. "Please let me go! Why are you keeping me here? Why are you doing this to me?"
Harry smiled at the other three. The fat Leroy exploded in a loud guffaw. Clyde smirked. Sam alone did not smile, but kept staring at her, his lower lip hanging slackly.
"Leroy," Harry said, "make the lady a drink. I think she needs one. And make me a double daiquiri."
"What will you have, mademoiselle?" Leroy asked in mock politeness.
"I-I don't want-no drink, nothing for me," she whispered. She tried to pull the short-skirted dress down over her knees. "Just let me go! Please. Let me out of this place."
Leroy made her a drink anyway and set it down on the redwood table. Angie had settled into a wing-chair and seemed half-asleep. Melanie suddenly wanted the drink more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. But her nerves were so taut she knew if she picked it up she would spill it. She realized she had to hold on to herself. From here on in her salvation was up to her.
Harry came to sit next to her on the sofa. She tightened as he studied her from the side. She felt like a side of beef being examined to be sold as high-priced merchandise. His eyes traveled from the smooth curves of her legs to the small dainty waist, then lingered when they reached the fullness of her breasts pushing out the front of the thin shantung dress.
"Yes, sir," he said softly. "I think you'll do just fine."
She stiffened in sudden fear. "What-what do you-mean?"
Harry smiled and twirled the ice in his glass. "Everything, baby. You're fine in every department."
"What-what are you going to do with me?" she cried.
"In time, baby. All in good time. Now just relax while we wait. Enjoy your drink and-" His eyes swept around to indicate the others. "-and the high-class company."
"I don't want to wait!" she declared in a sudden burst of strength. "You don't seem to under-stand-I want to get out of here!"
Harry just laughed and sipped his drink. Leroy and Clyde moved over to the sideboard that served as a bar and began talking quietly. Sam, with his pocked face, rose every so often to listen at the door. Angie was now fully asleep in the chair. The room became tense with an electric intensity. Harry's eyes, every few minutes, swept over her, as if in anticipation.
She reached for her drink, forcing her hand to a semblance of steadiness. In the papers she had read about women disappearing in the great cities-New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Boston, Denver-and never being heard of again. She was glad she was able to sip her drink with at least the illusion of control. She knew that the one thing that gave satisfaction to people like this was to appear afraid.
Suddenly she felt Harry's hand on her arm, on the fleshy part just above the elbow. All her recent attempts at composure died away. She jerked away and moved as far from him as she could.
"Look," he said, "I'm not some damn freak. I'm no monster."
"Well, then," she wailed, "why don't you leave me alone then?"
"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me. You'll see how nice I can be. I don't get rough," here his voice hardened, "unless you give me reason to play rough."
"If you're so nice why don't you let me get out of here?"
His hand tightened on her arm again, and she could not pull away, or even move farther from him. A cold hand of ice seemed to be creeping up from her crotch across her stomach. She instinctively pressed her knees and thighs together. But she sensed that it was pointless for her to struggle, particularly with the others in the room. These others terrified her even more. Lecherous as Harry was, he was a super-sophisticate compared to Sam and Leroy and Clyde. She was sure they were nothing but the lowest type of street-fighters, petty cons who would cut a throat as easily as they cut a roll for butter.
On her arm Harry's hand began to move softly, up and down.
She tried to jerk her arm away. His hand went to the back of her neck and his fingers slid under the shoulder of the thin sheath. "Doesn't that feel good?" he asked.
With a sob, she turned her face away from him. "No, no. I don't like it!"
"Ah, sure you do. It's like a nice massage." His hand worked at the flesh of her shoulder. "It unkinks all the knots."
"No. But I don't seem to have much choice, do I?"
He grinned. "Look at it this way, baby. It's a choice between me and fat Leroy over there. Now I ask you-is that a choice or is that a choice?"
The lascivious blatancy of his manner caused another finger of ice to probe between her legs. Stifling a sob, she glanced at the heavily draped windows. It was incredible that outside those windows life went on unconcerned. People were sitting down to meals, others were returning from work or pleasure, some were watching television, or sleeping, or making love, some were reading.
She forced back the fear. "If that's the choice," she said defiantly, "I don't want either one."
Harry laughed. "Then I'll make it for you." His hand again to move under the strap of the dress. She jerked away.
"Now, now," he murmured, "do you think I'm that revolting? You looked pretty hot and bothered when you came down after watching your old man perform."
His words cut through her like a razor. Leaning back on the sofa, she brushed the long blonde hair away from her face. His hand moved again and her stomach tightened. She pressed her thighs together once more. Harry put down his drink and this hand, now free, rested on her knee, playing idly with the hem. She tried to move away but she was already at the end of the sofa. His hand pressed harder into her knee. The other hand kneaded the flesh of her shoulder, then flicked at the fabric, moving down to caress her back.
"You have beautiful bones," he said aloud, for the benefit of the others. Clyde and Leroy, at the sideboard, laughed and then went back to their own conversation. Sam, as always, was motionless, his dull-witted eyes fastened on her.
"You know," Harry said, "it's your fault really. I tried to keep my hands off you, but you're too damn beautiful for your own good." There was a leer in his tone as his hands continued to caress her back and knee..
"Please ... please...." She was crying again. "Don't do this ... to me...."
"Oh, baby, it's going to feel so good. It's going to be like fireworks. You've never had a man, have you?"
Between sobs she shook her head and the long tawny hair danced around her face.
"I knew you were a virgin. Oh, it's going to feel so good having a nice big cock between your legs."
"Oh! God, no!" She tried to rise but he held her down.
He began to rub her back again. Then, to her horror, the hand on her knee moved up and cupped one of her billowing breasts. Under the shantung sheath all she wore was a wispy half bra, really only a push-up affair. She could have been nude for all the protection her clothing gave her. She twisted away violently and her breasts danced at the movement.
"Come on, baby, there's no point fighting it. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see-and feel-how beautiful you are. You know, you'd win beauty contests."
Leroy and Clyde laughed. "Harry," Leroy said, "you're a sketch. You oughtta be on television."
"So should this young lady here," said Harry. "Ever see some of those broads on the boob tube?" His eyes brightened. "Hey, how about that? Boob tube. This one would go great on TV because she's got the boobs for the boob tube!" He roared at his own wit and the others obediently laughed with him. "She sure has the boobs," he repeated. "Look at them." One hand reached up and gave one of her refulgent breasts a little pat. It shimmered under the dress. "Boobs for the boob tube. Can you imagine what would happen if we took this baby on TV and slowly peeled her, until those boobs were all nice and bare? What do you think would happen?"
"Fuses would blow all over town!" Leroy cried. Clyde nodded eagerly. Only Sam, quiet in his chair, was silent, staring at her and occasionally licking his lips.
"Maybe we should have rehearsal," said Harry. "How about it, men? A little boob rehearsal?" His hand moved from her back, across her shoulder, and down to the front of her dress, where the neckline plunged and exposed just the beginning of her young vibrant breasts. The hand paused there, the fingers sliding back and forth along the glowing flesh, softly, tantalizingly. Sam made a small mewing sound.
"Sure I can. I'll touch you. And more than just touch. You better get ready, baby. You're gonna be fucked like you've never been fucked in your life."
"No! Get away!" She tried to squirm out of his grasp.
His hands both dropped and for a moment she had the wild hope that he was going to let her go.
But he whispered: "Like you've never been fucked before...."
He sat up on the arm of the sofa and eyed her, his face covered with an expression of amusement. For a few minutes he did not touch her. She wondered about it. Why did he suddenly stop? She had read enough about rape. Every day the newspapers ran stories about abuses. From them she had garnered a picture of rape as a quick bestial coupling, a sudden violation of a girl's body and spirit, an animalistic criminality performed on her unwilling flesh.
But this-this was different. Was he playing with her? That had to be it, she realized in sudden horror, and again her thighs tightened in involuntary protection of her womanhood. He was playing a teasing game, getting a perverse kind of charge talking to her dirtily.
"You know what your trouble is?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"My guess is you're in desperate need of a good fuck!"
"Oh God!" she whispered.
"I think seven good inches of prick up that virgin snatch of yours is just the thing to straighten you out."
"Only seven, Harry?" Leroy laughed. "What happened? Angie bite off some of it?"
Angie, still asleep in the chair, did not stir.
"Never mind," Harry snapped. The day you can match me, inch for inch, you let me know. Until then, keep your trap shut." He turned back to Melanie. "How does that grab you, baby? Seven stiff inches?"
Melanie fought back a sob. It took all her strength to keep from vomiting at the humiliation and outrage of the obscenities being directed at her. All of the sophisticated charm he had shown at the airport restaurant had been merely a facade. Here he was, reduced to elementals, the salacious, rutting male getting his twisted kicks by humiliating her, talking dirty to her. But she had a desperate, sinking feeling that talking dirty was only the prelude to what he really planned to do to her.
She heard a sound outside the door. Her hopes rose wildly. Maybe it's the one they all were waiting for. She grasped at what her better judgment told her was a very flimsy straw. Maybe he would get her out-
The sound faded; it had been only a car on the street. The desperation flooded over her again like a wave on a deserted beach. In panic she glanced at Angie. She was a woman too. Call her, Melanie told herself. She would help. She-Then she remembered that Angie had been instrumental in helping Harry get her here. Angie was part of it and would be no help at all.
Harry said: "Such a pretty girl. With the prettiest tits I've seen in a long time. And so insulted because I want to look at them and pull on them just a little bit."
She came flying off the sofa in a desperate rush to the door, but Harry's hand snaked out with the speed of a striking cobra and pulled her back. He laughed, then began to talk softly to her, spewing out a torrent of obscenities that offended her. He delineated with lewd skilfulness all the things he intended to do to her. They were terrible. She had never heard of most of them, even in the sorority sessions. Description followed description of all the sickening ways he would use her, what he would do to various parts of her body.
As the monotonous, licentious voice went on and the indignities piled up, her resolve to resist drained away. She tried to put her hands over her ears but he pulled them away and continued.
Then he interrupted himself. "Hey, Leroy," he said. "I wonder if Ziggy's gonna make it tonight. When I called he said he had a couple of things to do."
"Maybe he won't make it at all," Leroy said.
"Well then," Harry went on, "if Ziggy isn't going to make it, maybe I'll give this young lady a little fuck right now."
The blood drained from Melanie's face. Up to now she had hoped, unrealistically, she admitted, that Harry's talk was just that-talk. But now he had put it into the form of an intention. He moved over to the other side of the sofa. "Come on over here, baby. More room." The bantering tone in his voice was gone. It was now a command.
When she didn't move he leaned across and roughly jerked her to him. She felt his powerful arm around her waist, holding her. She tried to struggle away, but she was caught. God, she thought, where was the person they were waiting for?
Harry brought her up against him. She could hear and feel his intensified, excited breathing as he pressed her svelte young body to him. One hand was on her hip, the fingers working at the thin material of her dress. This is incredible, she thought. This isn't happening to me. This is a dirty movie, a book, a dream-
A picture of her father flashed into her mind, the man she had respected for all the years in which she had not seen him. The man she had just seen naked upstairs, his rigid cock gleefully skewering into Angie's moist, red, welcoming vagina, pumping away like a furious machine. She sobbed, realizing he could not help her. He was now probably in his apartment, planning to call her in the morning.
One of Harry's hands reached up and cupped one of her rich breasts. Through the fabric of the dress and bra she felt the fingers working at the pliant flesh. God, she thought, she had always thought breasts were for feeding babies. She brought her knee around, aimed at his groin, but it only sent him into an increased frenzy. He pressed her back against the sofa, pushing with his hands at her shoulders, until she was draped partially over the back.
Then he clasped one hand around her wrists, behind her. Her heart pounded. She watched him, her golden hair a wild halo around her head, her long voluptuous body quivering. Had she left the quiet Iowa college town for this? How had she ever trusted him at the airport? How naive, stupid, foolish had she been? Was this her punishment for being stupid? Is this how life is in the outer world?
She tried to struggle but he held her with one hand. Angie was still asleep. The other three men were watching, but with only mild interest, as if they had seen it all before. All except Sam, sitting upright in his chair, a thin drool of saliva running down his chin.
One of her hands worked loose and she tried to swing at his face. But he ducked and laughed, but she paid for it. His hand came out in a quick, stunning slap that cracked across her face. Then he shoved her back, the lush curve of her buttocks slamming onto the cushions.
"Hey Leroy," he called out. "Maybe I'll need a little help with this little bitch. Get that bottle of rye. Lessee if we can't ease her tensions a little bit."
"No! Please!" she cried, not caring now that the dress was above her knees, up above the lower part of her creamy thighs, exposing the long shapely legs.
Leroy came with the bottle. He held her head while Harry poured some of it down her throat. The rye, like liquid fire, seared its way down. She coughed to keep from choking.
"Good girl," Harry chuckled. "That should do it. Not too much to make her sick. Just enough to make her reasonable." He threw the bottle to Leroy and then patted Melanie's lush thigh. "You gonna be reasonable now?"
She tried to rise again but felt a second pair of hands holding her feet down, Clyde was squatting beside the sofa, holding her ankles. Then Leroy took a hand. He grabbed her arm and forced her back, stretching her out like a prisoner on the rack in some dismal medieval torture dungeon.
"No no no no," she moaned. "Don't don't don't...." She was now completely helpless, open to violation, to any obscene act they wanted to perpetrate on her body.
"Pull open her legs, Clyde," Harry ordered in an impatient hiss. "I want to see that cute pussy of hers squirm before I ram it into her."
She desperately pressed her knees together but her legs gave way and came apart under Clyde's strong pull. She arched up her buttocks, wriggling her smooth flat belly from side to side, but it was useless. The liquor had forced her into a half-numb state. She sensed her will slowly draining away and surrendering to them.
Harry reached up to the front of her dress and with a quick yank tore it from her shoulders, exposing the two rounded hemispheres of her lush, full breasts barely covered by the push-up bra. His hands did not stop there. He tore at the rest of the dress, ripping it across the front until it was split to the hem, then jerked it from her.
"Ah, nice," he breathed, and stood back, as if admiring a work of priceless art. He examined each faultless line of her voluptuously tanned and curving body, followng the undulating arc of her hips up to the tiny waist and then up the melony blossoming of her ripe breasts. A long strand of golden hair fell across her shoulder, contrasting with the tan skin there and the white of her breasts below.
"All right, men," Harry hissed. "Hold her down. Old Harry's just about ready to see if this little bitch feels as good as she looks."
Melanie convulsed as she felt his fingers on her again. Then she tried to bury her face in the sofa cushions. Gone now were any intentions of freeing herself from this depravity. She clenched her teeth like a cornered animal. The word "rape" was uppermost in her alcohol-soaked mind, but her body still tried to rebel against it. Her buttocks quivered convulsively at the terrifying thought of what she would be subjected to.
God, God, why hadn't she followed her mother's advice not to come to San Francisco to see her father. If only she-Her thoughts were jolted back to a brutal reality at the touch of Harry's hands running up her almost naked body. He let them trace the voluptuous flare of her hips, then slid them slowly and harshly to the slimness of her waist above her thin panties. Her skin was very sensitive there and it twitched involuntarily under his touch. She felt his heavy breathing as he leaned over her. Except for the brief bra and transparent panties, she was naked under his leering gaze.
"Goddamn it, Harry!" Leroy said. "Why don't you cut the crap and fuck her? I can't stand watching this much longer."
"I'll take care of it, don't you worry," Harry said softly. "But what you don't understand, Leroy boy, is the need for patience. Everything in its own good time."
"Leroy's right," said Clyde. "Ziggy should be here soon. Get to it. But get the hell to it. Do you think we like to watch you screw these girls all by yourself?"
Harry's hands slipped to the pushed-up firmness of her breasts. With a deft hand he reached behind her back and neatly snapped open the clasp of her bra. The fabric fell away and the smooth resilient mounds seemed to sway out of the bra's embrace of their own accord. Their brown nipples came to instant erection under the gaze of the men. Sam, standing behind the sofa, whimpered. Melanie squirmed for one helpless moment, then let out a deep tortured sigh as Harry's lips came into warm, wet contact with one of the smoothly rounded globes. He kissed it lightly and traced a moist hot path from the lower swelling to its middle to where the tip stiffened again despite her revulsion.
"She likes it," Harry laughed. "Look how it stands up!"
"Oh, no no no ... please no no no...." Her abject pleading seemed only to incite him rather than stop him from his kissing and exciting the nipple with his tongue. He knelt down by the front of of the couch. She could feel his breath warm upon her flesh in a steady rhythmic pulsation that kept time with the pounding of her heart. He reached up toward her leg. His hand ran the full length of her long, rounded legs, then came to rest on the tight elastic band of her panties, his fingers lingering there, fondling the smooth taut skin of her upper thigh.
"Now, let's see," he murmured. "Do we take these off?"
"Goddam it, Harry," Clyde cried out. "Do it. Some day I hope we can make you stand around while we do it like that!"
"Shut up, Clyde," Harry snapped.
Tears came into Melanie's eyes as Harry slowly slipped his hand under the tight waistband and under the front panel. His searching fingers darted to the dark forest of golden pubic hair, touching it lightly, then circling gently downward to the soft virginal cleft of her pussy. Her stomach curdled at the unaccustomed sensation between her legs.
Trembling in total terror, Melanie screwed her eyes closed, then tensed as she heard the cold, metallic sound of a zipper being opened. She opened her eyes and almost passed out. Harry had lifted himself on the couch beside her and had taken his now-rigid cock out of his pants. She could feel the warm smooth pressure of its hard length pressed against her tender thigh. She felt its stickiness where the wet hot seminal fluid seeped from its large swollen head. He arched up on his knees directly over her. With his hands beneath her hips he pressured her buttocks off the cushions and up toward him. Then, in one swift motion he peeled the flimsy panties from her flaring hips and the rounded moons of her buttocks.
"God, oh God," she moaned. She tried to close her knees and the panties caught between her calves.
She jerked back, terrified, as his hands reached down and ripped them savagely from her legs.
"Oh, man!" she heard Clyde breathe as he held on to her legs. "She sure has one sweet little cunt."
"Well, just you make sure all you do is look. My job is to break them in and I don't want you messing around," Harry turned his eyes down to the smooth white curve of Melanie's full and now quivering thighs. They were parted slightly where Leroy and Clyde held her legs open. Through the now slightly moist filaments of pubic hair Harry could see the indentation of her glistening vaginal lips, also moist now, soft and tropical like the petals of an unopened flower waiting just for him.
"Now we'll show her what it's like to finally feel a real man between her legs." The words came through his clenched teeth, hissing as his total concentration focused on the voluptuous, spread feast spread out in servile anguish on the couch, open to him and whatever he might want to do.
"No no no," she wailed. "Don't ... don't ... please, no no no...." The tears of shame and humiliation ran down her cheeks. She could now feel one of his hands begin kneading at the unprotected mounds of her soft buttocks. The fingers of the other hand slid from her thigh to the warmly tingling area between her helplessly pinned-down legs. Her body twitched as she felt the first electric contact his fingers made with her vagina.
"Oh God! Oh God, no, no, NO!"
She sobbed out her weak, futile protest, knowing that it was totally useless. But she had to cry out her anguish so as to blunt the obscene impact of ... Of his member, she realized. She could feel the hard rubbery head of his cock pressing hotly against her upper thigh. He reached down and pulled his slacks down to his feet. She saw that he now was almost naked.
Oh God, she thought, let me die this minute.
She lurched forward as his middle finger played around the tender young flesh surrounding her completely exposed vagina. He twirled it around in spiraling ovals, around and around the moistily trembling lips of her pussy. She hated it, wanted to die, and yet lewd spasms of some unfamiliar thrill were going through her naked and trembling belly. His hand slid down and positioned itself at the entry of her vaginal passage, pausing for an eternal, insane moment to caress the warm, moist flesh of her cuntal lips. She cringed before this touch and pressed her thighs as closely together as she could, trapping his probing hand between them.
"That's what you should do to the prick, not the hand," Harry laughed. "Tight. Nice and tight." Then he twisted his hand to pry the clasping thighs apart. "Hold her, Leroy, for Crissake. She's fighting me too much. I want to fuck her, not go five rounds with her."
"Maybe she's never been fucked before," Clyde said.
"Maybe?" Harry sneered. "Christ, can't you tell? This one is as virgin as they come."
He gave one last pull on his tensed arm and hand and she felt the last vestiges of strength drain away. His expertly searching finger slipped up into her like a small probing spear, worming its way up into the moist and anguished passage. Then it stopped as it met the tender, fleshy obstruction of her virginity.
"Yep, there it is," he said, drawing a breath. "Like a nice hot wet closed door. Waiting for me to open it."
With a deep intake of breath he pulled his finger back out of her tightly clenched vagina. Then he rolled on top of her, catching her body closely as her long slim legs flailed in her effort to escape this brutal assault. His hips fell heavily between the full warm and trembling thighs, pinning her jerking buttocks to the couch. The soft dark curls of her pubic hair brushed tantalizingly against his hot stiff instrument.
"Oh, Christ, is this gonna feel good!" he mumbled, holding his hot pulsing shaft in one hand and flicking the throbbing head gently against the tight opening until he could feel the lips part slightly.
Melanie gasped as he guided his lust-hardened cock into the moist pink lips of her vagina. The unaccustomed feeling sent a sensation through her naked loins that she had never known before-what was it? Loathing? Is this what she had been taught to respect as the sacred gift a man could give a woman? This hard thrusting demanding spear of flesh? She tried to close her legs.
"Open those legs, Clyde. She's as tight as a keyhole."
She felt Clyde's fingers dig into the firm flesh of her calves. He pressured her legs apart. Harry took advantage of the movement to push the huge blood-gorged head of his prong forwad, inching into the tight and cringing opening of her cunt.
"Oh God God God God...." she moaned.
He pressed forward with assurance, certain that he had his prey cornered. The rest would be like rolling off a log. He flexed his buttocks and lunged. Suddenly the tight elastic ring popped open with a quick snap and the hot pulsating head slipped in with a soft sucking noise, like a foot into warm soft mud.
"Ohhhhhhhhh!" she screamed. She tossed her head back, then twisted it from side to side, spilling the long tawny silky hair over the hands of Leroy who was holding her shoulders.
She pulled back her buttocks and ground them back into the cushion in an effort to escape. But the shifting of her weight only managed to further excite Harry. His hands slipped behind and under her, clutched at the tightly-clenched cheeks of her ass, drawing her up on his lust-engorged cock. Then he pushed downward with a sudden quick jerk, sending a flicker of searing pain through her tight vagina.
"Damn, what a pussy!" he breathed. The force of his churning loins ground into her moistly quivering cunt. His plunging prong set up in the now rapidly moistening passage a driving rhythm that beat through her like the pounding of a jungle drum. She felt the entire length of his huge throbbing cock expand against the tightly clasping walls of her vagina when he reached the end of a stroke, the bulbous head flexing in that instant of repose. But then the rhythm began again, teasing her by slowing his thrusts, undulating his buttocks in a smoothly rocking motion and then thrusting again.
"Ayyyyy!" she screamed, then held her breath against the pain as the deeply buried penis seemed to inflate even more, stretching her virginal violated passage even farther apart.
Harry looked down at her in amusement. Her face, beneath him, was contorted in agony and fear. Her mouth hung limply open, and her eyes were clenched shut. Now she no longer struggled. She appeared to realize that with two men holding her and one on top of her, there was no way she could avoid the violation of her naked body. Harry went back to the pumping rhythm. The probing prong slid in, up to the hilt, then slid down and partially out, then in again, up into her stomach, then down, up, down, up, down....
He was scarcely aware of the two men holding her and Sam watching. The cocks of all three were pushing hard against the cloth of their pants. At the front of Sam's pants a large wet stain was spreading. All three had their eyes riveted on the golden-haired girl spread-eagled on the bed with the meaty pole lunging into her. At her head Melanie could dimly feel Leroy's own cock pressing into her head as he held her. On his pants, too, she saw the seeping patch of wet seminal fluid that had leaked from his upright member because of the wild scene before him. His breathing had increased as he watched the rigid length of Harry's pole pistoning ruthlessly into the girl's outraged, tightly-clasped young cunt.
Harry now doubled his strokes, sliding in and out of her like a pile-driver, kneading his fingers into her jiggling buttocks. His body stiffened into an iron band of uncontrollable lust that was venting itself on the writhing vessel of beautiful and young flesh pinned helplessly beneath him. He could feel his hot skewering cock growing even larger as it continued its relentless pillaging, driving deeper and deeper into her vulnerable belly, each savage thrust sending waves of lewd sadistic delight rippling through his balls, quivering all the way up to the bulbous head of his blood-engorged cock. To intensify that pleasure, his forced his middle finger across one of Melanie's gyrating buttocks and poked it cruelly up into her puckering cringing ass, feeling her jerk spasmodically at the sudden invasion of the tiny opening.
"Ayyyyyyy!" Her scream stretched out into a long cry of agony.
In the dim recesses of her tortured mind Melanie sensed another change in the man violating her. She felt his hot throbbing cock grow even larger inside her trembling belly, until it felt as if the warm pulsing walls of her cunt could hold him no longer. Through sheer instinct she knew he was ready to come. Her horror increased at the thought of this filthy stranger spewing his hot sticky semen into her helpless belly, the act taking from her the last vestiges of her hope of holding on to her virginity. She pulled her loins down from his thrusts. The movement caused her to clench her buttocks and thighs. And that finished him.
The sudden tightening of her flesh on his cock made him lurch up over her naked young body. She felt the hot jet begin to build in his lusting balls and race headlong down the length of his wildly pulsing penis, then spewing madly out of the jerking bulb-head and deep into the red caverns of her cunt, filling her completely, splashing up against her protesting cuntal walls, overflowing with her own uncontrollable juices out of the hairy lips of her now rapidly contracting cunt. He gave a final low gasp as with a cruel lunge he emptied the remainder of his hot male sperm into the still quivering young cunt and then collapsed across her naked, heaving belly.
They lay on the couch, Harry panting, Melanie dazed. There was no longer any need for Leroy and Clyde to hold her. Every ounce of strength had been drained from her soft young savaged body.
Leroy and Clyde went to the sideboard and poured themselves drinks. Harry slipped his limp cock out of her, then rolled over, breathing hard. Then they all looked up as the bell sounded. Sam twitched in his chair. Harry rose from the couch and zipped up his pants.
"It's about time that bastard showed up," he said. "Somebody go get the door."
CHAPTER THREE
Harry threw Melanie's torn dress over her naked, quivering shoulders, and then went over to where Clyde and Leroy were. In her upset, dazed condition of mind she could not reason coherently. She merely lay still, sobbing.
Sam returned from the front door, followed by another amn. She heard the buzz of his and Harry's conversation, but as if through thick drapes. All that was clear to her was the fact that she had been cruelly raped, had become the humiliated receptacle for Harry's frantic spurts of hot thick semen that she could still feel trickling in hot streams from her battered and brutalized vagina.
She pulled the tattered pieces of her dress around her, trying to cover the red bruised breasts. She moved the long waving blonde hair back from her sweat-stained face.
"All right," she heard Harry say to the newcomer, whom he called Ziggy, "let's lock up and take her downtown."
Sam, who had been standing near the door, wiped his drooling mouth. "Harry, you-you gonna let me-let me fuck her?"
"Why, Sam, you dirty old man! I didn't think you were interested in that kind of stuff."
Ziggy was not amused. "Come on," he said. "Let's cut the gab and get going."
"All right," Harry said. "Leroy, you and Clyde get her down. I'll have the car ready. Let Angie sleep. She'll be along later."
A few minutes later Melanie felt herself heaved to her feet and dragged by the two men, one of whom had his hand across her mouth. In the car they made her lie on the floor of the back. Once she tried to lift her head to see-out, but a rough hand pushed her back down. All she could discern was that dawn was breaking. God, she thought, this degradation had been going on all night!
As the car jounced along, occasionally she felt a hand reach down to steal a lingering feel-it rested on one of her large, still-sore breasts and kneaded away thoughtfully. She was so tired she didn't care. Go ahead, you animal, whichever one you are, have your fun with my flesh.
The car stopped and again she was led out, this time in the parking lot of a huge apartment house. They whisked her up in a service elevator, down a dim hallway, and into an apartment.
"Leroy," Harry said, "go open up the daybed and make sure our pretty guest is going to be comfortable."
A moment later she was in the room. It was sparsely furnished. She fell across the daybed, hoping that they would leave her alone. Sam had already asked Harry to let him ... do it-to her. Leroy and Clyde had wanted to enjoy her young body, but Harry had kept them away. How much longer could he keep them off her? Still, she wasn't grateful to him for it. All he had done was deny them what he had enjoyed.
Sam ... there was the one she feared. Thin as he was, she had seen the bulge in his crotch and had concluded that he must have the biggest-the biggest-She blushed through the fog that enveloped her brain. The biggest thing in the world. Her thighs tightened in anticipation. He was the group fool, but she felt his quiet idiocy masked a violent nature that could become mean.
Harry came over to her. "I'm sorry this isn't as plushy as it could be, but we'll try to make you comfortable."
She felt like weeping again. Oh God, she thought, there's been so much ... She dug her hands into the soft pillow.
Ziggy leaned in the door. "Harry, I gotta go. Got a couple of other girls to check on. We got a new one from Denver who's a mental case. We got to tame her down. I'll be back tonight maybe."
Outside the room she could hear, dimly, the roar of morning traffic. The windows were curtained and she could see the glow of the sun behind them. She had always like the sun but now she didn't care. Her vagina hurt. Her breasts felt swollen and abused. She felt dirty.
The room had a daybed, a table, several armchairs, some floor lamps. Through the open door she saw Clyde and Leroy lighting cigarettes and talking. Sam was out of sight but she knew he was ther, drooling over her. She shivered.
Harry sat in one of the chairs. "It's been a long night, hasn't it?" He laughed shortly. "Probably the longest night of your whole innocent life."
Melanie said nothing. What was there to say? This man had violated her, bestially fucking her, forcing himself into her helplessly spread young clean vagina, while two others held her down for his pleasure. Whatever she said, he would use her words to further humiliate her.
He rose. "Don't try anything. The door's are all locked. And the window has wired glass on it. You'll never make it."
When he was gone she stretched out on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. She was still terrified, of course, but despite her tiredness and terror, there was a part of her mind that was clear. She tried to assess her situation. At first she had thought these people to be simply rapists who had taken a beautiful girl to use and abuse. But now she was sure there was something far more meancing in their purpose.
She admitted her own innocence and naivete-look at how she had misjudged her father. Also, she had fallen for the old gag of: "Won't you join us at the party?" Some party, she thought, trying to arrange the shreds of the torn dress across the lush curves of her body. In spite of that naivete, she was beginning to understand the purpose of these men. They had her here for a reason, and she was afraid to name the reason, although she knew it. They had taken her from Nob Hill to an apartment obviously in the center of San Francisco, no doubt to throw off any pursuit.
And they spoke of the things she "would get used to." She shivered. What things? She wondered about Angie, who had been able to sleep peacefully while Melanie had been ravished. And her father-what was he doing now? Looking for her? Or sleeping off his wild time with Angie? She would never forgive him for allowing her to get into this situation. And the way he had played the-the fornicating animal with the red-haired Angie. She still saw the girl's big breasts rubbing all over him, and her vagina twitching in desire as his big-his big-his big thing approached it. She swallowed against a sudden lurch in her stomach as she saw again Angie's full red lips wrap themselves around her father's thing and suck until he was whimpering in ecstasy.
God, Oh God, what am I involved in? How was she to get away from this pack of-
A voice came to her through the door. She realized she had fallen asleep. How long she had slept she could not tell, but it was later in the day. The voice was Clyde's.
"So you screwed her, Harry. You had your fun. Now when are you gonna let me and Leroy get some of that hot pussy?"
Through the shaft of fear that went through her she heard the clink of ice in a glass. "Come on, Clyde," she heard Harry's voice. "We've been through that a thousand times. That's not part of our deal. I do the breaking in. It's always been like that." There came the sound of his chuckle. "But I've never seen you get so excited over a broad before."
"There's never been a broad like this one. Christ, those tits-how they stood up and bounced."
Melanie went cold at that and crossed her arms over her breasts.
Leroy spoke next. "Me and Clyde's gettin' pretty tired of bein' kept out. The crummy little salary you pay us ain't nearly enough for all you make us do."
"So what's that got to do with the girl?"
"It's got everything to do with the girl! There outta be some fringe benefits to make up for the low pay."
Harry's voice whooped up in a laugh. "Fringe benefits? What the hell do you think this is? You guys ain't working for the government. You'll be wanting a retirement plan next. And how about holidays off?"
"Funny, funny," said Leroy. "But it ain't fair. Every time we get a new chick you're the one tries her out. Tests her. Breaks her in. Listen, you gotta let us do some of that testing. We make a deal, me an' Clyde. You let us get some nookie from these new broads and there won't be any problems."
"There won't be any problems anyway." Harry's voice, tight with impatience, reached her. "And no deals. You just do your jobs. Any time you get fed up, talk to your union. If they can't help you, take off and I'll get somebody else. Clear enough?"
There was a murmur, whether of grudging assent or continued rebellion she could not tell. Then she cringed as the door opened and Harry came in, followed by Leroy, Clyde, and the dull-witted, slack-jawed Sam, who carried a bottle and a tray with glasses and ice.
"Harry," Leroy was saying, "you gotta make deals. Everybody makes deals. Who can you get who knows this operation better'n me an' Clyde?"
"An' me," said Sam. "I know it good too."
"Sure, Sam. You too," Harry said. "You want to wet your pinkie in this cute little twat?"
"Oh boy!" Sam drooled. "Would I ever!" the thin line of saliva ran down his chin.
"It ain't fair," Leroy protested, his fat face creased into lines of concentration. "You bring these tomatoes here, have all kinds of fun breakin' them in, an' on top of that, you get all kinds of money from the boys up front. Jt ain't much we're askin."
"He's right, Harry," Clyde put in. "How many broads we got workin' these midtown apartments? And the houses out in the suburbs? How many of them you broke in? Just about every one. And while you're fuckin' them till their noses bleed, who's standin' around, holdin' them still for you? Me and Leroy, that's who. You think it's easy just holdin' on to them while you stick your big prick into them and pump away all night? You try watchin' while I shoot my wads into a dame. See how it feels."
Harry poured a drink and stared at it. Melanie's blood turned cold when he spoke again. "All right, I'll think about it. Let me talk to Ziggy and some of the people up front. They don't like merchandise that's over-used at the start, but maybe I can tell them this one's wild and needs taming."
Her stomach muscles tightened in sudden fear. Oh God, were they all going to defile her? Even Sam, with the tremendous bulge in his pants?
"I'll think about it," said Harry again. "But now," he turned to Melanie, "we got better things to worry about, don't we, baby?"
She fought against a shudder and tried again to cover herself with the torn dress. The side was slit so that her legs, clear up to her silken haunch, were exposed. And the top was only ribbons that barely covered her nipples, let alone provide covering for the round fulness of her upstanding breasts.
A quick vagrant thought went through her mind. Maybe if her father offered them money, they'd let her go. Isn't that what kidnappers want? She was ready to ask them to contact Ray Powell. He had money. A successful advertising copy director in a big agency would be able to put up a lot of-
Then she remembered what one of them had said. "How many broads we got workin' the midtown hotels?" These weren't merely kidnappers. Was she to be one of those slaves, those abused women who come out only at night? The degraded underground creatures old before their time? She sank back, realizing that any money they would get out of her father for her release would be peanuts compared to what they could get by making her body available to men willing to pay for it.
Dear God, she thought, let me die ... I'd rather die than be degraded like this. She pulled up the bright green bedspread and tried to cover herself. But even through it, the rich fulness of her body was visible to the men around her. The fabric moulded itself around the smoothly uptilting breasts that retained their pertness despite the usage they had undergone.
Harry reached out and snapped the bedspread away. Again all her beauty was on display-the ripe breasts, the rounded hips, the long full legs, all of it enhanced by the teasing placement of the tattered strips of what remained of her dress.
"I asked you a question, baby," said Harry, with a dangerous threatening purr in his voice.
It was obvious to her that he was trying to divert the attention of the others from their intention to brutalize her as he had brutalized her. But she did not know what answer he wanted. A tear ran down her cheek. "I-I don't know what to say," she cried weakly. "What-what do you want me to say?"
Harry shook his head. "Oh boy, she's not very bright today. Even Sam here understood what I meant, didn't you Sam, old friend?"
Sam nodded eagerly. "Sure, I know, Harry. You asked her that you had better things to worry about. Right?" He grinned at Harry. "I got it right, Harry? Right?"
Harry laughed and gave Sam a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You sure did, kid. You got it perfect." He turned to the others. "Now, drink up, boys. Let's forget that for a while. I told you I'd think about it. Sometime today we got important company coming and it won't look good to have us bitching like this." He looked at Melanie. "Through that door is a bathroom. Go do what you have to and get cleaned up. And don't try any funny stuff."
When she returned a while later, still in the torn dress, but feeling considerably cleaner, she found that the men had all moved into the next room, which was a kitchen. They left the door partly open. They continued their conversation but she couldn't make it out. She had the impression that something big and important was imminent, but what it was she could not discover. In time she made out that someone was coming, someone higher up in the operation than Harry. There seemed to be a definite pecking order here, working from the bottom up-Sam, Clyde, Leroy, Harry, Ziggy, then this unknown.
She sighed and went to the window. She could not see clearly because of the curtains. Behind them the opaque wired glass allowed only light to pass through. She could see nothing outside. She could only tell that the sun was out. It sent a little warmth on to her nearly anked body and she was warmth on to her nearly naked body and she was hungry. She wondered at these men. They had not slept or eaten throughout the night and-
As if on cue, she heard Harry say to Clyde: "Hey, there's nothing to eat in this fucking dump. Better head out and pick up something." Clyde left and short while later was back with his arms full of groceries. Leroy took over as cook, moving gracefully and skillfully around the kitchen preparing breakfast. Once in a while she heard a whiny complaint from Sam: "Hurry up, Leroy. I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," Leroy laughed. "If it ain't for food, it's for booze, and if it ain't booze it's-what's left, Sam? Hey Harry, after food and booze, what is there in life?"
"Cunt" said Sam.
Leroy laughed again. "Hey, nothing wrong with Sammy, is there? He's right there with the answers. Food, booze, twat."
A few minutes later Leroy came into the bedroom with a platter for Melanie. "Room service, ma'am," he joked. "Scrambled hen fruit, coffee, toast, bacon. How's that?"
She murmured something. He leaned down. "Don't ever forget who gave you a nice breakfast. Later on, when I ask you to be nice to me, don't you forget it."
"Thank you," she said softly.
He brought in his own platter, sat down, and began wolfing down the food. She started on hers. When she was half through, she tensed. Sam was standing in the door, gaping down at her. She wished Harry were here. He wasn't much, she thought, but he was less an animal than Sam. But Harry was in the kitchen, off to the side, eating and reading the paper.
Sam seemed to have forgotten Harry's order to drop his desire to violate Melanie. His slim-witted attention was riveted on her. His eyes traced an obscene path from the neat delicate ankles over the curving legs, up along the full thrust of her silken thighs, to the swelling of her satin hips. She tried to pull the torn material around her, and the movement made her breasts tremble and bounce. His eyes opened even more and a thin cry came from his slobbering lips.
"Like what you see, Sammy?" Leroy asked. "Now you know it's not polite to stare at a lady like that. I'll admit she's a dish, though. Ain't she a dish, Sammy? Ever see a pair of tits stand up like that?"
"Yeah," Sam breathed. "They stand up nice. I don't like them when they hang. Most of them hang. This one stands up nice."
Melanie set the platter down. "Please," she said to Leroy, "make him stop looking at me like that. He's-I can't stand the way he's looking at me. Make him stop."
Leroy gulped a swallow of coffee. "Just eat your breakfast, little lady. If you want us to be nice to you, all you got to do is be nice to us. Cooperation, they call it."
Melanie tried again to eat. She knew she had to keep up her strength. From the kitchen she heard snoring and knew that Harry and Clyde had fallen asleep. She wished again that Harry were here. Even though he was the one who had raped her and treated her like a piece of meat, she knew he was her only protection against the others. They were just waiting their chance to lay hands on her. She continued trying to eat. Now she had to force the food down. After the first few hungry mouthfuls, the food now became like dried leaves in her mouth and would not go down.
Sam continued to stare lewdly and slobberingly at her. Leroy, while he ate and hummed occasionally, slanted a look at the shining breasts she could not hide with the ripped dress. Having eaten as much as she could, Melanie put the platter down on the night table, then lay down on the bed and turned her back to the two ogling men. Closing her eyes, she hoped she could sleep. And never wake up again, she added in her mind. What was there to wake up to? More violation? More degradation?
But she could not sleep. Leroy and Sam, though silent behind her, were palpably there. She could almost feel them; their eyes were devouring every clean lithe line of her body from the back.
"Hey Sammy," she heard Leroy whisper, "get a load of that ass."
"Nice."
"Ever see cheeks smooth as that? Just like silk. Pure silk."
The threat of renewed defilement swept over her again. She could almost hear them breathing, could almost see Sam's horrifyingly huge crotch start to bulge in the tight pants he wore. Her mind returned to the angry discussion the men had held with Harry earlier. She knew that soon, if she did not escape from here, Harry would not be the only one to use her carnally.
There was a sound outside the windows, down on the street. Leroy leaped up and with his feline grace, so incongruous compared to his bulk, ran to the window. He unlocked the sash with a key on his pocket chain and opened it an inch. For a brief moment he peered out. Then he snapped his fingers to Sam. "Go get Harry," he said.
"Wha-whass the matter?" Sam tore his eyes reluctantly from the silken sheen of Melanie's exposed, bare buttocks.
"The man's car just pulled in."
"Oh yeah, the man's-"
"Stop making like an echo, godammit! Get Harry and tell him to get his ass off the chair. Wake him up!"
Sam ran out, calling: "Harry! Harry! The man's car just pulled in! Leroy says get your ass off the chair!"
There was a scurrying in the kitchen. A moment later the doorbell rang. Harry said: "Open up, Clyde."
Looking around, Melanie could see from her position on the bed. The door opened and a tall, lean man, well-dressed, manicured, shave-lotioned entered.
"Where is she?" he clipped out shortly. "In bed," Harry said.
They all came in to stand around the bed. The well-dressed man sat down in a chair, studying her. "Get me a shot," he said to Harry. Harry snapped his fingers and Clyde hurried into the kitchen and brought back a fresh bottle of scotch, and a glass. He poured a shot and the man chugged it down. "It's been a long, stinking morning," he said. He looked again at Melanie. "She looks as if shell do. With that shape, she should do fine."
Harry let out a sigh of relief. The man held out his glass and Clyde obediently poured him another. The man sipped this one slowly, still examining Melanie. He scrutinized her, part by part-the hips and lush buttocks turned toward him, the long curved legs, the mane of golden hair spread out on the pillow.
"You sometimes have good taste, Harry."
Harry ducked his head almost as a child would upon being complimented. "Thanks-"
"But at times I sort of doubt your judgment. You don't always use your head."
"Why?" Harry asked in sudden agitation. "What's-what's wrong? What did I-"
"I just found out this kid's father is a big-shot business man. He and the police showed up at the Nob Hill place early this morning. He tried to get her this morning and found she never made it to her hotel. You practically left a trail for them to Nob Hill."
"Well, how else was I supposed to get hold of her? She was with her old man. I couldn't just-"
The man drew a deep breath and shook his head. "Never fathers, Harry. Young girls alone is okay. Or even young girls with their boy friends, if you must. But never-never, Harry-never fathers. Some fathers have clout. With their connections who knows who they can call on, where they can take us. The police are mostly in our pockets, but if the papers get hold of the story of a father losing his daughter to us-"
Harry was visibly shaken. The man had spoken in a quiet, conversational tone, but somehow he seemed to excude a threat of violence that caused Harry, as well as the other men, to treat him with deference.
"Well," said Harry, "it won't happen again. I-"
"I know it won't. If it does, you better cut your own throat."
"Well, everything else is in order. Do we get our first payment for picking her up?"
"Hold your horses, Harry." The man rose from the chair and went to stand over the bed, looking down at Melanie. There was no expression on his lean face. He seemed almost sleepy. For a few seconds he examined her silently, studying each smoothly curving contour as it lay semi-exposed beneath the torn shantung sheath.
"Tell her to take her clothes off."
The words came quietly, almost in a polite whisper.
Melanie felt a wave of cold spread over her.
"Go ahead, baby," Harry said, almost gently. "Get off the bed. Take off the dress and show the nice man what you've got."
She cringed back on the bed, trying to get the bedspread to cover her nakedness. Harry came nearer to the bed. She felt like a trapped animal. Is this how a rabbit feels when a snake approaches? With a clenching of her fists, she summoned up the little courage she had left. "No."
"I said take it off. Everything." Harry's voice had lost its gentleness.
She did not move. She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to see him and the other men standing above her. She knew now what business they were in. She made herself speak the word in her mind: prostitution. And she was caught in it. Could they force her to do it? She, a girl who had been brought up on decency and honor and-and-She choked on the next word. On virginity. That was gone, she thought ruefully. Harry took care of that during last night.
"Baby, once more I'll ask you," Harry said. "Push back that bedspread and take the dress off. I want everything off. Everything."
She tightened her fists and kept her eyes shut.
Suddenly her head snapped around as Harry's open hand lashed out and caught her a stinging crack across the face. The sound was like a shot in the room.
"From now on you do what I tell you," he said slowly, as if he were instructing a small child. "Next time it'll be worse. Believe me, I know how to make it worse."
"I-I-no, I can't," she whispered. "Don't make me do it. Please!" The tears from the slap mingled with the tears caused by her increased terror. "Don't, please!"
In a quick flashing movement he reached down. One hand seized the bedspread and tore it from her. The other hand snaked out again. But this time, instead of her face, it slapped at her breasts-one! two!-quick cracking slaps that stung and set the flesh to quivering. Her nipples sprang up in sudden outrage.
"Now," he hissed through his teeth, "now will you get up and get naked?"
"Watch it, Harry," the well-dressed man said. "You don't want to damage the goods."
Harry reached down to grab her arm and yank her off the bed but the man stopped him. "No. Let her get up. She's got to learn she's going to have to do things-a lot of different things. Get up, missy. Stand up and take it all off."
Dear God, she thought, why don't you let me die this minute? I don't want to live if I have to go through this humiliation. Let me die right now.
But the pain of Harry's hand across her breasts was something she did not want repeated. They stung brutally, the nipples still erect. Slowly, with her eyes still closed, she rose and stood beside the bed. For a moment she was motionless. She opened her eyes. They were all staring at her. The flesh inside her thighs crawled.
"The dress, baby," Harry said menacingly.
Forcing back a sob, she peeled the torn dress from her shoulders, down past her breasts, and stepped out of it. She wore no bra or panties since Harry and Leroy and Clyde had taken brutal care of them last night. The room was not cold but the air felt cool on her exposed body. She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. The degradation is complete, she thought. Here I am on display like a piece of meat.
The tall lean man examined her closely. "Pretty good," he said, and somehow his words built up her fear even more than Harry's blows. "Nice big tits. But firm. They stand up. That's what they want. Big but pointing upward. Not flabby like a cow. To that extent, Harry, you picked a real good one."
Harry smiled in gratitude. The man continued his examination. Melanie felt his hand lightly passing over the smooth, sensitive flesh of her round buttocks. "Nice here too. Like two ripe melons. Good, very good."
She wanted to pull away but forced herself to remain where she was, knowing that any sign of further resistance would mean more pain, more indignities, from Harry. As the leader of the group, the top dog, he would not tolerate having his authority undermined by her resistance. It would make him look like a fool, and she was coming to realize that he was dangerous. Besides, the other three-Leroy, Clyde, Sam-respected one thing only: strength. If Harry wavered at all, they would cause trouble. Thus Harry could not waver, not in the slightest. And if she caused any such wavering, she would pay for it, she knew.
Nevertheless, knowing this did not make it any easier for her to stand surrounded by a gang of lecherous men, naked as she was, while one prodded and felt her flesh and the others ogled every fresh young part of her which she had vowed to keep inviolate until one day she yielded it all to the man she would marry.
The cool, impersonal examining hand went carefully over the satin sheen of the cheeks of her buttocks, prodding, patting, rubbing. Then it slid around her small waist as it drew in from the lush roundness of her hips. It moved up to cup one of her taut breasts.
"No...." She couldn't restrain the plaintive whisper. "Don't ... do that ... to me ... please ... don't...."
"Come, come, little lady," the man said, hefting the breast until it jiggled. "There'll be a lot more done to you."
She tried to draw away. A flare of anger rushed to her lips. "Stop! Do you think I'm some kind of toy for you to play with?"
He laughed and took his hand away from her breast. "Exactly. That's exactly what you are. A toy. A thing for men to play with. And maybe some women. But don't worry, it'll be mostly men. And after a while you'll even enjoy it. It takes time and patience and a lot of training." He winked at Harry. "We won't mention what gets done to the girls who don't cooperate, will we, Harry."
Harry entered into the spirit of gruesome fun. "Oh no. Don't tell her about the straps and the whips, those special ones that drive them out of their minds with pain but don't leave a single mark. And the electric wires in all those secret tender places. Remember the one a couple of weeks ago? When we got through putting her through the course of discipline she was begging us to let her loose in one of the houses." He chuckled. "Anything's better than those electric wires."
The blood ran icy in Melanie's veins. The tall man reached into his pocket and handed Harry an envelope. "There's the bread for you and your men. This time I'm giving it all to you. Next time you goof by involving a father you're in deep shit. Remember."
"Okay, okay," Harry muttered. "It won't happen again."
The man turned and left the apartment. The others moved into the kitchen. She heard Harry counting out money for Leroy, Clyde, and Sam. She went back to sit on the bed and drew the spread around her shoulders. Harry's words came back to her: the straps and whips that don't leave a mark but drive them out of their minds with pain; the electric wires in the tender places ... What tender places? The flesh between her thighs crawled, and up in her vagina there was a coldness like a great rod of ice.
A feeling of utter hopelessness washed over her. All the things she had read in books were now happening to her. Harry was the ring-leader of a gang that made friends with innocent, beautiful girls, abducted them, and then forced them into a life of degraded prostitution. The naivete was beaten and trained out of them and later they would be placed somewhere to live out a life of total corruption, the plaything of men and their lewd desires.
"Okay," she heard Harry say in the kitchen. "All set? Are you all satisfied? Anybody got complaints?"
She heard the rustle of bills. Then Leroy's voice came:
"Only one, Harry. We talked about it before. We want a cut of the pussy. You said you'd think about it."
Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah, I thought about it. And I've decided it wouldn't work. It would upset the whole operation. There's just so much breaking in a girl can take. You know that."
"What you're saying, Harry, is that you want to do all the breakin' yourself. Is that it?" Harry said nothing.
"Okay." This was Clyde's voice. "I've had it. Come on, Leroy. Let Harry have all the cunt. Let's see how his operation works without us." There was the sound of chairs scraped back and the opening of a door.
"Wait a minute," Harry said soothingly. "Maybe we can-well, we ought to find some agreement, some deal."
"No deals," said Leroy. "That's what you said before, ain't it? So we're saying it now. No deals."
"Whassa matter, Harry?" Clyde sneered. "You afraid your best men will walk out on you?"
"I want a piece of pussy." This was Sam.
It was Leroy now who laughed. "Y'see, Harry? Even Sam here knows what's right. Come on. It ain't fair. We got to watch while you fuck 'em blind. A little extra screwin' by us will only help smooth off any rough edges the chick might have."
The skin on Melanie's back crawled. She saw that the men had boxed Harry neatly into a corner. There was no way out for him. There was a sick feeling in her stomach as she realized the inevitability of it all-he would have to turn her over to them. Oh God, she thought, Dad, why did you say yes to that invitation? And where are you now?
The primitive law of the tribe seemed to operate here: she remembered courses in college dealing with tribal people who looked up to the chief powerful enough to maintain supremacy over the women of the group. When the chiefs lost the women, the source of strength of their position faded and they became helpless. Listening to the four thugs in the kitchen, she could see them as primitive savages in loin-cloths, sitting around a fire. They were discussing the usage of her as they would discuss the division of a piece of meat.
Harry seemed to be fighting within himself to maintain his authority by refusing them the use of her body, and at the same time keep them from leaving and deserting the operation. He now called to her from the kitchen: "Come in here, baby." When she didn't move he spoke again. "Remember those slaps across the tits? There's more where they came from."
She rose quickly, drew the spread around her nakedness, and went into the kitchen. She stood there quietly.
"Don't stand there like a dummy. Sit down. Get acquainted with the folks. This is a social visit." The others chuckled.
She sat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs against the ogling of Sam. The bedspread fell open and for a moment her creamy legs were exposed.
"Hey hey," said Clyde.
She pulled it over her again and tried to avoid their eyes. Harry stood up and went to the window sill where there was a bottle of whiskey. He poured a tall one, sipped it, then walked back to her.
"Y'know, baby, we've been talking here, the boys and me. You hear any of it?"
She did not answer.
He reached down, pulled the spread from her shoulders, and examined her breasts. "Hm, still red from the slaps." He made a quick motion, a pretense of slapping her again.
She whimpered and flinched back.
"Did you hear my question?"
"Yes, yes!" she cried, panic stricken.
"Well?"
"Did I hear you. You asked if I heard you. Yes, I heard you."
"Good. Very good. She's getting smarter, boys. So you heard the boys say they want a piece of the action?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Well, I tell you." He lifted the glass to squint at the light that turned the liquor to gold. "I just decided that you need a little more testing before you're really ready to solo."
Melanie gasped. She couldn't believe his words. She didn't know what she had expected, but in some crazy way she had hoped he would refuse them. She had come to look on him almost as a protector, despite the filthy use he had made of her last night.
"Hey, now you're talking'!" Leroy shouted.
"Harry, you're a real doll," said Clyde.
And Sam merely made a choking sound in his throat.
Harry passed the bottle to Leroy. "Give her a drink."
She took the glass Leroy handed her. She took a sip of the foul-tasting stuff. She knew she would need as much of the sensation-dulling liquor as she could hole if she was to live through what they had in store for her. She swallowed again, gagging on the burn of it in her throat, and forcing her stomach to keep from vomiting it all up again.
Leroy filled her glass again.
"Give her more," Sam croaked.
"Come on, Sam," Harry laughed. "You don't want the poor girl completely stoned."
Melanie's face reddened from the strength of the liquor. She raised the glass and drank again. Because of her deep exhaustion, the liquor began to take effect immediately. She could feel the tips of her fingers deadening as they held the glass. Her eyes rolled in her head and she began to feel numb. She slammed the glass down on the table near her. She wanted to become completely drunk, so she picked it up again and drank once more.
"Jesus," said Leroy. "Maybe we ought to stop her. I don't want a dead piece of meat under me when I'm screwin' her."
Melanie, before Leroy could move, grabbed the bottle, poured a half glassful, and slugged it down. She swallowed hard to keep it down. It burned like lava in her stomach. But in a moment she felt it take hold. If she could kill herself by drinking ... She reached out to pour more in her glass but Leroy took the bottle away.
"That's enough now. I don't want you out cold."
Clyde stood up. "Okay if we take her in?"
Harry shrugged. She's all yours. Just don't mark her up. The man is pretty touchy about marks. He wants them nice and clean on the outside."
"Okay, honey," Leroy said. "Drop the bedspread and get into the bedroom."
With the liquor acting like a drug, she had no resistance left. She let the spread fall away and stood up, completely naked.
"Wow!" said Leroy.
She turned and headed across the kitchen, not caring that four sets of eyes followed every movement, every swaying step that caused her buttocks to move gently from side to side. Above them the long blonde hair, hanging below her shoulders, waved as she walked.
"Look at that lovely ass shake!" Clyde said.
She went in a half-daze. Fear tightened her up and the liquor loosened her up. She cared what happened to her and she did not care. She wanted to jump from the window but dimly remembered it had wired glass. As she heard them follow her, whatever vestige of rebellion remained within her drained away. It would count for nothing now to show any energetic resistance against the coming violation-violations, actually. There were three of them and she was sure each one wanted his share.
Her vagina twitched in anticipated fear. Three of them-if Harry didn't get his-and one of them was Sam, with that gargantuan bulge inside his slacks! Oh God, what was this nightmare? She, a girl who had been brought up on honor, chastity, religion, decency....
"Okay, honey," she heard Clyde's voice say as she stood near the bed, facing away. "Turn around. I always liked blondes. Especially with big tits. And yours are sure big. Look at them, Leroy. Ain't they beauties?"
"I'm first," Leroy said. "Right, Harry?"
"Go ahead. Be my guest."
"All right, honey, sit here in this chair." Leroy indicated an upright straight-backed chair. "For openers you sit here."
Numbly, only half alive, she dropped into the chair, not caring that as her buttocks landed on the seat, the jolt caused her breasts to bounce enticingly.
"That's nice," Leroy cooed. "I like my company sitting up in a chair, bare-ass naked."
The other men gathered around her. The obscenely hot, dripping stares of the men went through her like searing daggers. She folded her arms, trying to cover the large pink nipples. Someone's hand began to play with the flesh of her thigh. She pulled away from the ugly touch but the hand remained, crawling upward between her tightly clasping legs and brushing briefly at the mat of golden, curling pubic hair covering the plump flesh of her cunt.
"Stop...." she whispered, her head reeling.
"Look, you guys," Harry said. "Have your fun but lay off anything that'll mark her. No marks, no scars, no cuts."
"Don't you worry about a thing," Leroy breathed. "We ain't gonna hurt the little bitch."
His face was red and distended from the whiskey he had drunk. His eyes, bloodshot, had a kind of sunken depraved look as they turned from Harry and began burning a leering path from Melanie's gleaming golden hair down to where the trembling white flesh of her waist melded into the round fulness of her hips. Then they came up again, flickering over the radiance of her lush, outstanding breasts. The hand still was playing teasingly close to her cringing young pussy, kneading harder and then harder at the smooth virginal flesh. She jerked back suddenly as she realized it was the lewd fingers of the semi-idiot Sam who was breathlessly playing with her vagina.
"Make him stop, please make him stop," she whispered. "I can't stand it when he touches me ... please...."
"Sam," Leroy snapped. "Cut it. You'll get yours later."
Melanie's blood ran cold at that, yet she was grateful that for the moment Sam backed off, muttering under his breath. Harry rose, and saying, "Remember, screw her till she's cross-eyed-I don't care-but don't mark her," and then went back into the kitchen.
Leroy watched him go, then turned to Melanie. "Now, honey, suppose you open those legs and let me get a look at that nice hot pussy." When she did not move, he bent with the swift grace that some heavy people display. With a sudden motion he caught her arm and twisted it painfully behind her back so that she was forced to rise up from the chair and fall back against him.
Sam broke in then. "You gonna lemme screw her, ain't you, Leroy? Right? Harry said we all could. Right, Leroy?"
Leroy did not reply. The closeness of Melanie's young, naked body had begun to affect him. His eyes dazed with a film of concupiscence. He was enjoying her gasps of pain as he twisted her arm, making her jerk so that her breasts bounced tantalizingly.
"From now on you're gonna do what I say." He gave another tug at her arm. She pushed herself back against him, trying to get away from Sam who was standing close. "Thre ain't a thing I hate more than an uncooperative piece of ass," Leroy said. Melanie sobbed at the pain. She wanted to plead with him, and just as she opened her mouth, she felt his fat belly press against her back, the belt buckle digging into her flesh as lie dug himself into her. She jerked again at the pain of the buckle.
"God dammit," he muttered. "You guys better give me a hand. She's squirming like an eel."
Both Clyde and Sam instantly grabbed her. They lifted her off the chair and carried her, struggling, to the bed. She tumbled from their arms onto the bed. Her breasts jiggled tremulously as she landed. She tried again to hide her nakedness, but her hands, covering her pussy and breasts were instantly torn away to expose her private parts to their gaze. These men, she realized with agonizing terror, were no longer playing the roles of underlings. Their interest now was an intensification of their urge that had lain dorman throughout the previous evening when Harry had stripped her and torn from her the virginity she had prized. Now their desires had grown even more intense from having been denied by Harry. Now that he had given them carte blanche to do anything they pleased to her body, she knew they would not hold back.
Clyde's fingers were on her head and shoulders, holding her down. Sam held her feet. "Hold her down," Leroy cried. "Sam, open her legs." There was a quick pressure on her ankles as Sam tore them apart, throwing her into a spread-eagled stance, her long white legs propped outward and wide across the bed. "Now look at that, will yah?" Leroy chortled. His eyes feasted in leering delight on the golden tendrils of curling hair that nestled invitingly at the apex of her trembling, soft thighs.
"Christ," Sam hissed between his clenched teeth, "that's a real pussy. Ain't that a real pussy, Leroy?"
Leroy let go of Melanie's arm and dropped heavily on the bed beside her, the heaving bulk of his enormous belly rippling obscenely just a few inches from her face. "I been waiting a long time for this."
"You won't hurt her, Leroy?" Clyde asked anxiously. "You know what Harry said."
Leroy laughed, his huge paunch heaving right in front of her face. He laughed again. "Just look at them tits, will yah? Ever see a pair of standing beauties like those? Y'know, when a chick lays down flat, her tits usually flop down under her armpits. But this one-Jesus, she's a prize. Look how they stand up. Not a bit of sag to them. What tits, man!" He gestured further down. "And that nice wet slit. Ever see anything more juicier? Just twitching there like a winkin' eye, waiting for six inches to ram up inside her."
Melanie sobbed. "I just came to San Francisco to see my father and get a job. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why?"
Leroy laughed once more. "You just lay back and relax, honey. Back home was never like it's gonna be now. You'll have the time of your life when you get my beautiful prick up between those gorgeous long legs of yours." She instinctively closed her legs. His hand flashed down like the flat of a belt across her thigh. Melanie screamed and jerked her body backwards, but Clyde, holding her head, and Sam, at her feet, held her tightly. His hand raised up and shot down again, but stopped before it landed on her quivering flesh.
"Don't, Leroy," said Clyde. "Remember what Harry said. He'll kill you if you mark her."
The hand came down again in a hard resounding slap. "That's just to teach her manners. We was talking about helping Harry break her in, weren't we? Well, this is breakin'."
Clyde glanced at Melanie's naked, cringing body. "Yeah, but why do you have to beat the shit out of her? I can think of better ways of breakin' her in, if you can't."
"I ain't gonna really hurt her," Leroy said. "And you just wait your turn. But before I really slip it into her, I want to make the little bitch beg for it. Tell me what you want old Leroy to do to you, honey. Come on, tell me. Beg for it."
Melanie moaned and twisted back on the bed. She thought she would die from the humiliation and shame of the treatment she was being subjected to by these pigs. She gasped as Leroy's hand took her arm again and twisted it sharply. "Come on, honey," he repeated, his teeth glistening between his folded-back lips. "Beg old Leroy to fuck you. Go on."
"Nononono!" she cried. Her eyes opened and closed spasmodically on the pain in her shoulder.
"Yesyesyesyes," Leroy mocked, twisting harder. "Beg for it, you bitch!"
"I-I can't!" she gasped, feeling herself weakening from the cruel assault. She gave one final low groan and fell back on the bed, her face perspiring, her eyes dulled with the beaten look of surrender. Again Leroy twisted, sending hot shafts of pain into her. "BEG!"
"Do it ... do it to me," she whispered through her tears.
"Do what? Say it."
"F-f-fuck me ... anything you want. Do anything you want-to me ... oh, stop, please stop!"
He eased the pressure slightly and she fell back in instant relief. She looked up at the fat man's face, the way countless victims of medieval torture dungeons must have looked into the faces of their torturers. His face wore the grim mask of one who has inflicted pain and knows the debilitating and humiliating effect it has on his victims, who knows the power that he may withhold or inflict agony at his discretion.
Suddenly he jerked her around so that she lay sideways on the bed facing him, her firm full lush breasts swaying out to the sides like two ripe succulent melons ready to be sucked.
"Clyde," Leroy said, "get up behind her."
"What about me, Leroy?" Sam asked plaintively. "Can't I fuck her too?"
"You'll get your turn. Just hold her."
Melanie felt Clyde's weight up behind her on the bed, his hands caressing the soft white moons of her buttocks. The harsh metallic sound of a downward-plunging zipper sounded behind her and then she felt Clyde's warm, throbbing penis poking against the cool skin of her upper thighs. She lurched forward but Clyde's hands seized her hips and pulled her back on him. His steadily stiffening cock felt hot and moist and she shuddered when she realized that the wetness she detected must be the lubricant she had heard men ejected from their organs before they put them into a woman.
"Damn, she feels good!" Clyde sighed. "I'm gonna like her just fine." His hands held her arms so that she could not struggle. His knees squirmed in between her tightly clenched legs, while he continued to force his twitching cock into the smooth skin just below her soft, resilient buttocks.
She opened her eyes at a motion in front of her. Leroy, standing before her, unclasped his belt and wiggled out of his pants with a laughing sound deep in his throat. Suddenly she saw his long stiff member poking out lewdly in front of him. Her face contorted in horror at the size of the monstrous penis. She jerked back but Leroy grasped her hair and drew her face closer to the long thick cock. God, it's huge, she thought. What must Sam's be like then? Leroy's was webbed on the underside with veins that throbbed. The enormous head was a kind of deep red, like the flush of a drunk's nose.
"How do you like that?"
She tried to force out some sort of reply but nothing came. His hand tightened on her tawny hair, sending a flash of pain across her scalp. The long throbbing length of his upstanding cock leered out at her. She saw the small pulsing hole at its end and felt a further shock as she saw the entire angry red shaft growing larger before her very eyes.
"Take it in your hand," Leroy said. "Go ahead. Squeeze it. It won't hurt you."
"I-I can't," she protested weakly. "Please don't make me-"
With his other hand he grabbed hers and thrust it around the huge blood-engorged penis, skinning it back so that the entire length of the red fleshed, head, only partially visible before, popped out from the thick foreskin a few inches from her staring eyes. Then, freeing the hand in her hair, he was at her lips, forcing her mouth open and running the soft spongy flesh of his cock lightly against her teeth. She could see down the full length of the throbbing shaft. It must be as large as Harry's, she thought, seven inches at least, and incredibly thick. She was dizzy and frightened at the thought of her mouth being used as a receptacle of lust, of the lewd sperm he. intended pumping down her unwilling throat.
Again his hand dug into her scalp, causing her to gasp in pain. As her lips parted on the gasp, he rammed his loins forward against her lips, forcing them in an unwilling oval around the head of his rigidly erect penis. She could feel the huge bulbous head sliding wetly into her mouth; on her tongue she felt the tiny droplets of pre-come seeping hotly from it, filling the warm caverns between her cheeks with its pungent masculine taste.
Behind her she could feel Clyde pressing insistently against her full white buttocks as she pulled back from the cock in her mouth. If she had turned around she would have seen Clyde's grin as Leroy grunted with each plunge of his cock farther and farther into her helpless mouth. Clyde reached down and pushed his pants lower and kicked them off. He seemed in no hurry to have her. He preferred to enjoy her at his leisure, from the rear. He ran his hands across the white flesh of her back, then slid his fingers around and let them slip easily beneath the smoothly curving breasts that pointed pertly at Leroy on the other side. He tweaked and twisted the small pink buds of her nipples until they were large and hard and erect. His fingers kneaded and squeezed the soft resilient flesh, puckering it roughly in his cupped palms, then circling his forefinger over the diamond-hardness of the tips. At the same time his lower body set up a slow rocking motion against her trembling naked flesh.
Sam watched with his mouth open as the two men held the lovely panther-haired girl tight, one forcing his lust-bloated cock in and out of her straining lips, and the other grinding slowly and lustfully behind her while his hands massaged the firm young mounds of her lush breasts. Her long tawny hair spilled over her shoulders and brushed tantalizingly against the sperm-filled testicles of the man in front while her straining buttocks attempted to repel the man behind her.
Melanie could feel Clyde's cock harden behind her and slip between the narrow crevice of her legs toward the now moistening lips of her ravaged vagina. She pulled her hips away from the hot, searching cock-head, but the movement inadvertently tightened her thighs on the crown of his hot penis, clasping the thick protruding shaft and exciting him further. He moaned in her ear, and removed his hands from her breasts and put them on the round white half-moons of her ass-cheeks, pulling the resisting flesh open for his thrust into the warm, narrow confines of her cunt. With another lurch of his pelvis he was there, prodding just below the tight vaginal opening. She could feel the blunt head of his cock pressing gently at her moist cuntal lips. She clenched her buttocks and tried to pull away. But he followed, pushing his hot pulsating member up between her legs, pushed and pushed, until she felt something give in her vagina. He was in, she thought. The monstrous red penis had wormed itself halfway up her tight, clasping channel and there was no way of getting him out. If she pushed forward to escape him her face pressed down more firmly on Leroy's fleshy rod that was slipping in and out of her mouth; if she pulled backwards she only increased the cruel impalement of Clyde in her already savaged and violated vaginal passage.
She gasped. How can he go in any further without damaging the tender opening? But he did, thrusting deeply, the ridge of his cock pushing in leisurely almost to the hilt, sending lightning-like flashes of pain searing up through her naked belly.
At her front Leroy continued to fuck his long blood-bloated cock into her helpless mouth, setting up an obscene rhythm that matched the lewd motion of Clyde's hard rubbery penis skewering into her moistly dilating cunt. The initial pain she had felt at the invasion vanished now, and all she could feel was a warm, tingling sensation that began deep up in her ravished pussy and radiated into her trembling belly. The feeling was not altogether unpleasant, and she tried to push it out of her mind. There was such a narrow line dividing the pain in her vagina and the pleasure she felt building up inside her despite herself.
To drive the pleasure out of her mind she determined to make this sordid scene go as quickly as possible: she wanted them to get their filthy work over with quickly, even if it meant helping them achieve their grafification.
She began sucking Leroy's cock more vigorously, running her tongue wetly around the warmly seeping head, flicking the tip teasingly into the opening at the end until she could feel it throbbing, until she waited for the great gushing fountain of sperm that would flow into her mouth and throat in an endless tide. No longer did she worry about her virginity-that was gone. But she hated the fact that she was beginning to like what was being done to her. To save herself this final humiliation-the degradation of knowing that she enjoyed this-she would show them, would make them aware that she could please. This would at least end it quickly before the feelings that were now erupting in her naked belly became too great for her and made her want more.
They wanted her to be a whore? Well, she would act like a whore. Leroy wanted her to suck? She sucked until he moaned. Clyde was having fun at his rear entry? Well, she began to grind her hips against his hot skewering cock until he too began to whimper with pleasure. She would give them every ounce of lusty fury her hot mouth and hot little pussy could generate. Her mind spun erratically on, the very hopelessness of her situation excusing the strangely pleasant sensations rising like fluttering butterflies in her belly and crawling down to tickle her churning young cunt.
Her lips clasped more firmly around the rigidly pulsating rod of flesh, drawing it in and out, sucking hard. Leroy huffed and panted in rising lust as her tongue swirled around the moistening cap, darted to flick at the sensitive area behind the bulbous head, pulled at the thick throbbing shaft with strong puffs of her cheeks. Sam stood nearby, his mouth open, fingering himself at his crotch, where a tremendous bulge poked out the fabric of his pants. A thin drool of saliva ran down his chin.
"Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her!" he cried.
As though driven by Sam's incantations, Clyde, behind her, increased his thrusts. His hands dug into the smoothly gyrating buttocks as he shoved his semen-filled cock in and out of the warm, palpitating lips of her cunt. He could feel his balls slap against the back of her thighs, feel her naked buttocks pressing back against his hot loins, the walls of her cunt grasping his cock like a hungry mouth. He was afire with a burning lust that bubbled up from the sperm-bloated sac of his testicles and rippled through his trembling shaft to its frantically fucking head.
Melanie rotated her buttocks back and forth around the impaling instrument, her vagina dilating in time to its rhythmic fucking. The eerie sensation in her began growing. Oh God! she thought. I'M ENJOYING IT! She had decided to please them and now her own lascivious passion, which she had kept sublimated for years, except for those rare, shameful occasions when she had masturbated, was coming to the surface. Her lust flamed up now until she thought she would go out of her mind with it.
Leroy could hardly control his ecstasy as he watched her skillfully gyrate her cunt on Clyde's prick. His eyes flickered over her rapidly jerking pelvis up over the ivory globes of her swaying breasts and up to her oval mouth that eagerly clasped and unclasped over his rock-hard cock. God, what a fuck she turned out to be, he thought. He flexed his cock against the warm wet walls of her cheeks. She was breaking in beautifully, as if she had been doing this all her life. He watched in intense pleasure as the lovely golden-haired girl reached up and cradled his balls in her hand, caressing the smooth skin, then tracing a warm tingling path up the base to where his penis entered her warm wet mouth.
"Mmmmmmmm," she was crying deep in her throat. The low moans of pleasure that came from her sent Clyde into a spasm of frantic activity. He drove forward with long, hard thrusts, the head of his rigid organ banging against the soft cushiony cervix at the end of each stroke, then pulling backward so that he could feel the tightly sucking vaginal walls pulsating spasmodically around the entire length of his shaft. He could feel the tiny contracting muscles inside her cunt nibbling hungrily at the inflated head of his cock. The dilated lips between her golden-hair-lined pink slit pulled tantalizingly away, sliding down moistly over the thick rod for a few inches and then nibbling slowly back up, causing the embedment of his full throbbing length high up into her warm white belly. He stayed motionless for a second, enjoying these final moments, his hands on either side of her wildly slapping buttocks that writhed nakedly and were doing all the work for him. He let her wildly quivering body pump up and down on his rigid piston.
"Ohhhhh God!" she whimpered in ecstasy. For each of Clyde's hard, now frantic impaling strokes from behind, she thrust back on him with a reciprocal hump of her buttocks, her thighs quivering in a maddening rhythm of lust and desire that kept time with the rapidly contracting pulse of her sucking pussy. "Ohhhhh God God God!"
Sam could no longer hold himself back. He came closer and touched one of Melanie's large, swaying breasts, timidly at first, then, with his confidence bolstered, touched again, squeezing more firmly at her concupiscently erect nipples, running his fingers over the desire-hardened buds. He pressed his hands against the soft resiliency as if her were kneading dough. The flesh rolled and rippled under his touch. He grinned in glee. "Fuck her, boys, fuck her." His comment was lost on the three on the bed-they were enraptured, the bedsprings squeaking, their rhythmic moans sounding loudly from the three figures intertwined on the bed, one in front, one in back, and the luscious girl in the middle.
"Oh baby!" Leroy crooned, "that's it. Suck it. Harder! Harder!" His hands went to the sides of her head, stroking the soft silkiness of the golden hair, his hips jerking back and forth wildly under her now uninhibited attack on his genitals, his hands making her mouth and head move faster and faster.
Melanie's brutal but ecstatic ravishment continued at both ends of her tortured body, as Qyde cupped and kneaded one breast and Sam the other, both with a punishing pressure that caused her attention to run back and forth from them to the maddening sensations in her cunt. She had never dreamed that there were parts of her body that might respond so violently to this obscene yet delightful probing. She could no longer distinguish among the three figures venting their lust on her, one at her mouth, one at her vagina from the rear, one at her breasts. Whose cock was that plunging like a hot piston-rod into her squirming cunt? Whose thick blood-engorged prick was that skewering moistily into her clasping and unclasping mouth?
She didn't know or care. It was good ... everything felt so goooood ... She was loving every wet sloshing minute of it, sucking on the penis, tightening the lips of her cunt on the cock inside her, delighting in the fiery pain of the kneading hands on her now-reddened breasts, loving it, loving it, loving....
Suddenly from behind her she heard Clyde give a deep tortured moan. She felt his rigid penis pulse and expand, his throbbing hardness fucking frantically into her warmly expanding softness, pounding mercilessly into her. She could hear the harsh wet slap of his sperm-inflated balls beating a lewd orgiastic tattoo against the tight, snug crevice under her thighs, against her buttocks, against the opening of her clasping vagina. The lust-demented man went wild with passion now, and with sadistic delight he twisted and handled her body like a limp rag doll as he fucked with increasing speed. At the same time Sam, excited by his efforts, worked on her breasts even more, plopping them upward and letting them fall heavily down again. And Leroy, with his hot rigid cock going in and out of her mouth, pulled and pushed at her head with each stroke.
"Oh oh oh," she mumbled around each buffeting thrust of the cock in her mouth. She could feel Clyde's violently fucking organ reaching deep, deep into her, felt it jerking and tunneling its way inside her until she wondered if it would meet Leroy's cock in her mouth. Then she felt Clyde's insane body explode as the warm liquid, the hot built-up sperm bubbled up and overflowed whitely out around the cock that was tightly clasped by the lips of her cunt. The juice erupted and flowed down between the white crevice of her buttocks as his lust-crazed penis jerked and spurted frantically into her hungry young cunt.
Her legs kicked out sideways on either side of him as he fell limply away from her. She almost screamed, despite the great cock screwing itself in her mouth. Where Clyde's cock had been, warm and wet and filling, there was a rush of cool air. God, she wanted more! She turned in frantic disappointment to the shaft in her mouth. In her mad desire she sucked harder on it, causing Leroy to cry out in ecstasy. At the same time, as she was ready to cry in her let-down and frustration, another sensation ran fingers of electricity through her.
Having seen Clyde fall away, Sam moved in. She felt a strangely blissful sensation across the wet outer lips of her cunt. She glanced back and saw Sam bending down, running his tongue along her moistily glistening pink vaginal crevice. Her breath exploded out of her and flared along the ridges of Leroy's cock as Sam began a curling and flicking of his tongue, thrusting it deep into her slit. A lewd tingle of salacious delight flashed through her, and she opened her legs more, affording him freer access to her.
Her cries were one long continuous mewing now as Sam withdrew his hot tongue from inside the passage and found her hard and hotly throbbing clitoris. He pushed his face farther up between her legs and began to tease and suck gleefully at the tiny fluttering, palpitating bud. He nibbled and the pain was such an ecstasy she writhed and squirmed.
Above her Leroy was approaching his moment of release. He fucked farther into her mouth so that she felt the hard rubbery tip of his cock-head slamming against the back of her throat. Her lips clasped desperately around the insanely pumping organ, her warm wet tongue fluttering in quick strokes around the bulbous crown. His smooth balls brushed her chin with each in-stroke. She sucked harder at the heavenly shaft, feeling the head pulse and subside, pulse and subside with each thrust. She could tell he was about to come by his rasping, spasmodic breathing, the way he stiffened his loins in hard-muscled jerks as he arched forward on each stroke, leaving the warm moist head of his cock for a teasing instant nestled in the fullness of her mouth. Her saliva merged with the hot pre-come that signalled his nearing orgasm.
Suddenly she felt his stiffly burgeoning penis begin spewing its hot milky fluid into her receiving mouth. The quick spurts steamed from it in gushing, geyser-like explosions, filling her eager mouth to the brim and trickling from the corners. She found herself swallowing greedily, not wanting to lose a drop of the lust-inciting fluid. Slowly the rock-hard penis began to soften, a few tiny rivulets of seminal fluid seeping out from the deflating head. With a gasp Leroy pulled his prick out of her mouth and fell back on the bed.
Sam, seeing his chance, climbed over Melanie's spread-out body. Rapidly he tore his pants off, and she nearly went insane at the sight. He exposed his gigantic red-fleshed pole to her shocked eyes. It stood up like a flagpole. Actually, to her it looked like a child's arm holding a small red apple in its fist. She watched in horror as he brought it closer to her still hotly steaming furrow.
"Oh God, Sam! It's too BIG! I can't take that! No! No!"
"You'll love it," he whispered. He lowered his head and wrapped his lips around one of her hardened nipples. He bit down hard. The sensations of pleasure that wracked her body were like nothing she had ever known before. The ripples of electric ecstasy flared at her breasts as he bit and dug at the nipples with his nails. The size of his cock now became a hunger rather than a fright. There was a hot fire between her legs. She frantically ground her hips, twisting her pussy around as it opened and closed like a winking eye searching for the great shaft of flesh.
And then the great bulging head found the warmly pulsating opening of her cunt. It paused a moment at the moist pink edge, then gently wormed its way between the lips. With a flick of his hips Sam forced the blood-engorged head up into the throbbing mouth of her yearning pussy, stretching the resisting flesh almost to bursting.
The agony was ecstasy. She thought she would split in two and welcomed it. She tossed her head from side to side and screamed out her climaxing passion. She writhed and squirmed as the great probing shaft went deeper into her. She struggled desperately to escape its punishing impalement and at the same time gloried in it. It was splitting the tender lips of her cunt terribly. The pain was unbearable, rocketing through her cruelly stretched body like fire. Sam thrust forward again, sending more burning fingers of agony through her stretching cuntal lips.
The pain was forcing her out of her mind now, but she did not want it to stop. She screamed, half in pain, half in pleasure, and the screams urged the dim-wit on. He began jerking the head of his cock spasmodically, she cupped, her hands on his pumping buttocks in a gesture of encouragement. She wanted to draw away from this punishing pole of meat and yet wanted it ever deeper inside of her. It sent crushing thrusts into her tight passage. She jerked convulsively as the huge rod rammed up into her belly.
Then she realized that he had only put part of it in her. He levered and plunged the entire length of that frightening fleshy sword into her. She blacked out briefly, but the pleasure brought her back. She was being fucked as she felt no one else could ever fuck her again, and she ground her hips upward to receive him even more deeply.
"Oh God, fuck me, Sam, fuck me more! Get it in deeper! I want to die! I want to die! Fuck me!!!" She intensified the gyrations of her white buttocks so that his sperm-bloated balls slapped madly at the wide-spread crevice of her ass-cheeks. She could feel her cunt-lips flower out, moistening around the pistoning shaft, contracting over its hardness in a hot clasping grip. The hard head burrowed in and out of her until she seemed to feel it up in her throat. She was totally filled now, impaled on his monstrous prick, as it screwed into her warmly stretching vaginal passage.
He paused for breath and she screamed: "Don't stop now!" in depraved delight. He grinned and sped up. Wet smacking sounds resounded with each cruel lunge he made into her, and they blended with the gasps that came from her contorted mouth. Her nostrils flared in untamed desire. She felt like an animal. Her forehead was covered with sweat and it matted the long golden hair. Her breasts shook and jiggled as if they had electric currents going through them.
He slipped his hands under her buttocks and cupped them tightly, raising them so that he could press his dancing balls even closer to her widespread, yearning ass-cheeks. No longer was there even the tiniest shred of reserve in her mind. She had been reduced to the level of a savage, full only of lust, her only thought a vague phantom image of the great cock that was driving her out of her mind. Her cunt closed and opened on it insatiably and she thought: what a sweet thing is this shaft of flesh it feels so good I wish it would never stop if I have to die let me die this way with this great big thing making me go crazy.
Her body was slippery with sweat from the insane gyrations of her ravenous hips and cunt. Her head flailed uncontrollably back and forth, her long golden hair spilling wildly on the pillow, her face contorted, increasing the savage picture of final abandonment and ravishment. She could feel the orgasm coming and swung her straining hips upward, wound her thighs and legs voluptuously around his back, grinding her nakedly swinging young buttocks in ecstatic abandon from side to side, spiralling her cunt up and down crazily and hotly on his plunging spear of flesh.
"I'm coming! Oh God I'm coming!" she cried in a high-pitched gasp of intense passion and locked her ankles like a vise behind his laboring, pumping back. Her body arched and held tight to the rapidly gyrating flesh of the dim-wit's ass, jerking him around in a crazed pulsating rhythm that spewed her orgasmic fluid wildly out around his still heavily driving cock and on down the wide-split crevice of her ass, almost drowning his balls in the warm white juices as they slapped wetly against her tiny puckered anus.
Sam, his idiot face twisted into a mask of savage lust, grasped the cheeks of her spasmodically undulating ass and squeezed with crushing strength, feeling her cringe as great heaving gasps of passion screamed in her throat.
"Jesus!" he sang out, a hideous grin of indescribable ecstasy twisting his lips. He increased the viciousness of his strokes so that his pelvis smacked like a wet wooden paddle against the pink edges of her steaming cunt and his huge driving hardness ploughed deeply into the hidden recesses of her warm palpitating belly.
He sensed his own orgasm building, felt the hot streams of milky fluid coursing up from his balls and flooding in long spouting bursts from the huge head of his cock that now opened like an unclasping fist and shot its hot white liquid sperm deep up into the warm sucking depths of her open and receptive woman's slit.
For a moment they lay motionless. Then Sam slid like a cowed spent child from her body and slipped down to the floor. Leroy and Clyde were both asleep, snoring. Sam glanced shyly at the girl he had just violated. She too lay still, breathing heavily, covered with sweat, her mouth still contorted on the bliss of her coming, her waving mane of tawny hair spread around her like a halo.
Everything in her mind was obscured by a darkening twilight. She was no longer a human but an animal that had fed, gloriously, fully. Never had she known such spent satisfaction, such a touch of heaven. She glanced fuzzily at Sam as he lay on the floor, his gigantic tool still out. God, she thought, the man is repulsive-but that part of him made him heroic. What was she turning into, she asked herself mistily, just before she fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Around the olympic-sized swimming pool, the tiled patio was full of people making intimate groups here and there. Some stood in the shade of trees, some sat at wrought iron tables, some were sporting in the pool. Except for the swimmers, all were well dressed, the women in the latest styles from the better San Francisco stores, New York, and Paris. A group of men, well-barbered and silkily-suited, obvious successes in the worlds of finance, the arts, and business, were talking. In the center Melanie Powell stood, her long golden hair like a cascade on her shoulders. In one hand she held a thin-stemmed glass. Her other rested on Harry King's arm.
Inside herself, she was awed and impressed by the wealth she saw, but in the past weeks she had been well-trained to show a cool exterior to anything around her which might have startled her naivete before her initiation into the role of expensive call-girl. For the first few days after her ravagement she had held to the hope that her father would find her. But as the days passed she had slowly come around to a new mental attitude: If this is the way it has to be, so be it. She had wanted a touch of the high life. Well, now you have it, girl, she told herself.
She glanced at Angie, part of another group. Melanie thought she should feel resentment toward her, because she had helped Harry get her into this. But she realized that Angie had been under Harry's orders too. Both girls had been rigidly educated in the artistic application of the ancient tradition, and Melanie now looked forward to trying out all she had learned. In the beginning, when she discovered that she loved what she was doing and couldn't get enough of it, Harry had trained her in holding back. In time she learned restraint while still enjoying every thrilling thrust of a hot male inside her...." so, Mr. King," their host, Elwood Van Nostrand, was saying to Harry, "if you don't mind, I'd like to show your young lady my sculpture garden." He was a short, heavily-built man in his fifties, with shrewd eyes and full, sensual lips. He let his eyes slide easily over Melanie's lush figure draped in the light pink two piece suit. She adroitly took a deep breath, which lifted her breasts up and out against the thin material. She wore no bra, just the suit jacket on her skin, and she heard a slight intake of breath from Van Nostrand.
"Be my guest," Harry said. He threw Melanie a warning look, through it telling her to be nice to their host. He had taught her to show interest in her client's affairs and now she knew she would be able to comment intelligently on the sculpture. Harry had impressed her with the fact that she wasn't a five-buck hooker in Haight-Asbury or New York's 8th Avenue where all a girl needed was a cunt and a mouth. She was high-priced, and that called for a brain as well. She would be spending her nights in conversation as well as sexual gymnastics.
"Come, my dear," he said.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Van Nostrand," she said.
"Oh, come on, call me Woody. Everybody does." He took her hand and led her down a flight of wide marble steps to a low mound that overlooked the pool and patio. Off in the distance, blue under the blue sky, was the Pacific. He pointed out where the city was, half hidden under the haze. Then he led her into a secluded garden he showed her one impressive piece, a huge bronze of two lovers entwined. He stood close to her, one hand resting lightly on her buttocks. Through the thin fabric of the suit she felt the warmth of his hand.
Good, she thought, he likes me. He led her down another flight of steps into a garden that was fully secluded, bordered with high boxwood hedges. Over one of the hedges she saw the top of the mansion. He talked lightly about his acquisitions of the various pieces of sculpture in Paris, New York, London, Madrid. As he talked, she nodded intelligently, but at the same time she was thinking: you've come a long way, baby. She would at one time have felt she was entering a life of degradation. She saw it otherwise. True, she would be renting out her body, to be used by men in any vile, obscene way they desired. But what better way to live life to the fullest, see the world, meet people? She had something to give, and had a beautiful body, a sensual body that could drive men up the wall. Why not use it? And morality be damned.
Woody led her to a bench and they sat. He talked to her about his collection, about his love of sculpture, about how he helped young artists who were struggling to make their place. Finally, he said: "Well, do you like my collection?"
"Oh, Woody, it's fantastic. You have so many pieces."
"You should see the house. It's full. You'll see it later. But now, there's one piece I think you'll appreciate. Do you know any Italian?"
"A few words. I took it for a year in college."
"Then you know the word amore."
"Oh sure. It means love."
"And much more. The Italians have a way with love. The men play on women as they would play on instruments. You know what I mean?"
She blushed. "I-I think so."
"Well, then, if you'll come with me, I'll show you. I hope you're broadminded."
"Oh yes, of course I am." She hoped she wasn't blushing too much.
He led her to a different garden, this one totally boxed in. She had the impression he had created it as a hideaway, where he could be alone whenever he desired, or could take selected companions.
"There," he whispered.
At first she could not see clearly. The statue stood in shade.
"Come closer," he said. "This is one of the truly outstanding masterpieces of my collection."
She approached, with him beside her. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she began to discern two marble figures. She could hear him breathing more heavily near her. "Go closer."
She leaned in. Then a gasp escaped her. Her impulse, from her upbringing, was to run. But she remembered herself, and forced her eyes to study it. The statue was of two life-sized figures, so realistically done they seemed alive: a man stood straight, his hands behind his back, his head thrown back. On his lips was a grimace of-pain, ecstasy, lust? Kneeling before him was a young naked woman with long flowing hair. Her lips were tightly wrapped around the upright stem of his turgid penis. Her eyes were closed, and her expression was one of undiluted joy.
"How do you like it?" Woody asked softly.
"I-it's-it's interesting," she whispered.
"Ah, it's much more than that. It's art at its best. Didn't I tell you the Italians know about amore? I got this in Italy."
"It's beautiful," she said.
"Here. Sit here." He indicated a close-by bench. "You can see it better. She sat and he came to stand before her, looking down at her. She felt his eyes burning a slow but intense path of desire along her body, into the jacket under which she wore nothing. A wave of excitement began to flow through her. She moved her shoulders so that the V of the jacket slid down a bit, exposing just the barest hint of provocative cleavage. She tightened her legs and the flesh of her thighs blossomed out.
She turned to the statue of the lovers. The woman knelt in a position of total subjugation before the man. Her mouth clasped hungrily around the erect phallus. A hollow feeling churned in her stomach as she noted one of the woman's hands delicately cupping the man's testicles as though they were precious golden eggs. Small rivulets of marble perspiration ran down her cheeks. Her other hand cupped the man's buttocks as if she were trying to pull him closer. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the long erect cock between her lips. God, Melanie thought, she's loving it! She felt a slight moistness between her own tightly pressed thighs.
"Now," Woody was saying, "don't you agree that this is by far the most ingenious method of love making, of pleasure? It used to be done in ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt. How do you like it?" His fingers reached out to play with the tawny waving glory of her hair.
"Y-yes," she said. He touched her neck and little chills ran down her back like scurrying ants.
"You have such lovely hair, like a wheat field, so luxurious. And India, there are caves there with statues and bas-reliefs of such eroticism that if you glance at them only a minute your love-juices will start to flow. I hope I haven't offended you?"
"Oh, no, no," she said, blushing. As she brought up her eyes just a bit she could see his crotch. The material of his tailor-made slacks was bulging out, straining over the firmness of his tumescent penis. Her eyes widened as he moved closer, until his legs pressed against her knees. What he expected of her was now clear, but she was all mixed up inside. She wanted to do it, and yet she couldn't.
Then she realized that she had no choice. That's what she was here for. She saw that a drop of pre-come had seeped through his slacks. He moved closer and tangled his hands in her thick hair, pushing her cheek down until she felt the bulge against her face.
"Pull it out, my dear Melanie," he said.
Her future depended on her ability to please him, and others like him, so she forced back her timidity, gave in to her desires, and reached out for the zipper. The full blood-engorged length of his cock leaped out like a ferocious beast springing from a trap. Woody Van Nostrand took up her hand, folding it around the rubbery thickness, stroking and massaging it, rubbing the foreskin back so that the bulbous throbbing head popped out in front of her eyes. Then he gently but firmly opened her moist soft lips with his hand. The thick warm head pressed against her teeth. Her eyes widened as she looked down the fleshy length of pulsating rod.
Woody gently pushed her head down until the tips of her lips brushed tantalizingly against the warm throbbing flesh. He thrust his loins forward, sinking the sensitive shaft into the warm moist cavern of her mouth. The giant semen-inflated head slid in slowly, slithering down against the full length of her tongue, emitting drips of lubricant that filled her mouth with a pungent masculine taste.
"Wonderful!" he sighed. "You are so good at it, my dear. Your mouth feels like hot butter, just like hot butter!" His hips began a slow undulation as he slid his great cock in and out of her mouth with a rhythmic, wet, sucking sound. He leaned over to watch as her contorted face worked over his enormous member. It made the sucking sensation so much more keen and exciting when he could see the thickness of his maleness buried in her soft wet lips. The entire length of it seemed to disappear into her soft full mouth, then it came out, wet, glistening, as she pulled back and let it slide almost all the way out.
Her breasts, under the suit jacket, danced and jiggled. He let one of his hands course slowly down over the smooth white flesh. Abruptly, the hand dipped into the cleavage and closed over one quivering round breast, tweaking and fondling the erect bud of her nipple. "These lovely breasts of yours are breathtaking, my dear. So large, and yet so firm. Ahhh, you are a work of art, never mind the marble sculpture. You're flesh, and I'm going to put it to good use, that flesh!"
Melanie felt his hand on her breasts as she moved her torso in time to his lunging thrusts as he rammed the thick shaft deeper. She saw the tufts of black pubic hair around the stem of his cock. As she sucked she massaged the soft flesh at the base, while her other fingers gently played with the sac of his balls. He could feel her tongue twirling maddeningly at the apex of withdrawal, then swirl and flutter as she sucked in on the outstroke. The building pressure of her mouth working like a slave, and the constantly fondling of his balls sent a churning blast of heat up from his legs to find its greatest intensity at the head of his cock.
She could feel his throbbing reaction and began to suck even harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the hard flesh. She didn't know whether she was repelled or sexually excited-she wanted to run, yet knew that if she lost that great maleness in her mouth she would scream in frustration. She made her head jounce up and down over the pumping rod, her forehead and upper lip beginning to glisten with perspiration from her efforts. Her mouth filled with saliva that mixed with his lubricant to form a warm taste. She convulsed the moistly clasping insides of her cheeks as she drew the jerking male-pole out, pulling the wet soft insides of her mouth over it like a suction cup. He groaned and twisted above her. His hands reached out, opening her jacket and then kneading and squeezing at her breasts until the flesh went alternately red and white.
"Don't stop!" he cried. "Keep sucking! Harder!"
He rammed the trembling rod further down her throat. Suddenly she felt hot cauldron of his hot white come erupt deep, deep in her throat, shooting jets of seminal fluid against the back of her throat. She began swallowing as gust after gust of hot cascading sperm shot in with bullet-like squirts. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic ring around the spewing head. The thought went through her mind: so now I'm officially a whore. She still didn't know whether she was happy or sad. The rush of semen seemed to go on forever. She went on sucking wildly. With a sudden groan of total exhaustion he emptied himself between her lips. She sucked on hungrily until the last drop erupted from the spurting organ that began to deflate in her mouth.
"That was beautiful, my dear." He was a bit unsteady. "You are truly lovely." He glanced down at the open jacket, from which her breasts, reddened from his vigorous kneading, jutted out like two soft headlights. "Beautiful, and such an educated mouth."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"I'll have to tell Harry. Never has he brought me a girl who could do it like you." She blushed.
"And I think you'll enjoy the evening's activities even more." He slipped his now-soft and wrinkled penis back in his pants. Holding out his hand, he led her from the secluded garden. "This evening promises to be a very, very interesting one."
Her thighs fluttered at his words. The act she had performed on him disgusted her, yet had aroused her. Her vagina was winking like an eye with a cinder in it. It felt moist and hot. She wondered if the evening's entertainment would ease the fire she felt in it.
Melanie and Woody joined the others. There were a few glances in her direction, but for the most part no one seemed to notice, or care. Probably, she surmised, this was routine for him.
"What's for tonight, Woody?" one man asked. "Scrabble?"
A roar went up.
"No," Woody replied. "Bridge. Or would you prefer tiddledy-winks?"
"If it's rated XXX." This came from a lush ripe woman with flowing black hair. She was in her thirties.
"Careful, Ramona," said Woody to her. "Remember last time."
"Oh, I remember. It took me a week to get over it." She wore a white gown with the front dangerously low. Only the nipples were hidden. The tanned globules of her breasts stood out starkly against the white fabric.
"After you see this film," Woody said, "you'll need a month."
Melanie felt the flesh tighten around her vagina. She wanted to run away, but between her legs there was churning that was driving her wild. She looked at Harry, who winked at her. The other guests stood around in small groups, talking, drinking. One young girl must have been from the casinos or Las Vegas-she was almost six feet tall, dressed in a skimpy bikini which had at most three square inches of fabric. Her great breasts bobbed as she moved and threatened to roll out of the sleazy covering of her bra. Her buttocks jiggled under the inadequate strip at her middle. Ramona looked at her. "Baby, it won't take you long to get ready," she said, with a look at the bikini. The girl rolled her eyes lasciviously.
The afternoon wore on, and then the guests went to their rooms to shower and change. Melanie, after showering, put on another suit she had brought. When she went down her eyes widened at the waiters briskly setting up things, at the silver, the wine buckets, the damask cloths. At dinner, held in the medieval dining hall, she marveled at foods she had never heard of. She sighed. Well, she thought, this life might be rough at times, but it has its compensations. The man at her right introduced himself.
"I'm Carl Williams." He was tall, well-built, with a shock of wavy light hair. He poured her a glass of wine. His eyes traveled over her. It was obvious he found her attractive. "Been here before?"
She shook her head and sipped her wine.
"My fourth trip," he said. "Old Woody knows how to throw a party. Take the guests. Ramona, for instance. And Carrie." He indicated the tall showgirl, now dressed in a transparent organdie dress. "Nothing subtle about Carrie, is there?" Then he nodded toward Ramona. She wore a pink frothy creation, cut again extremely low. "One deep breath and out pops Ramona. I hope I'm around when it happens."
As he talked she watched the servants running deftly around, anticipating the guests' needs. She studied the decor of the dining hall, with its suits of armor along the walls, the hanging tapestries, the medieval weapons hanging over the great hearth. She noticed that Carl Williams was pressing his leg against hers under the table. She wondered if she should pull away. She didn't know if she belonged entirely to Woody, for him to use her as he pleased, or if she was to be nice to everyone. Before she was forced to make a decision, Woody rose and herded everyone into the gigantic living room.
Carl escorted her in, weaving slightly from the drinks he had consumed. He held her arm possessively. The living room was a display of lavishness. A tremendous chandelier glinted its lights as it hung from the ceiling on a golden chain. Another fireplace along one wall had a roaring fire in it, although it required the air conditioning to cool the room. Long, low couches, upholstered in ornate gold and blue velvet, were arranged in random groups on thick Persian rugs. Melanie found herself with Woody on one side and Carl on the other. She relaxed as the servants brought in silver buckets with champagne.
On one of the couches two young men were practically draped over the tall showgirl Carrie. One, through the transparent fabric of her dress, was fondling one huge breast. And Ramona ... Melanie didn't know whether to smile or gag. Ramona sat on a couch, her arms back on the backrest, while two men, one on each side, reached into her severe decolletage. Each pulled out one of her sumptuous breasts and, while she laughed, began to tenderly suck away at the nipples.
"Go ahead, boys," Melanie heard her say. "There's enough for everybody."
Well, Melanie thought, she knew this wasn't going to be a Sunday School picnic. She was learning-fast. Nearby, Harry sat with Angie. Angie too had on a semi-transparent blouse that caused her to look more naked than true nakedness.
Beside her, Woody leaned toward her. "Ever try this?" He held out a cigarette.
"I don't smoke," she said.
"This isn't just smoke," he smiled. "This is the best grade of trouble-shooter. Several whiffs and you forget all your troubles."
She was about to refuse, having always been opposed to dope in any form, when Harry caught her eye. With a frown he ordered her to accept. She took one. Woody lighted it. She puffed, and soon she found that the voices around her grew softer, her eyes saw as clearly as before, but the colors were more intense. A kind of softness, like a wooliness, wrapped her body. She noticed that Carl was again pressing his thigh alongside hers. On the other side Woody had his arm around her shoulders, his hand hanging motionless just a shade away from the rounded outline of her uplifting breast under the thin pink suit jacket.
Then Woody stood up and signaled one of the servants. As Melanie watched, others came in. They rolled down a screen, puttered in an adjoining projection room, refilled glasses. "It will only take a minute, folks," Woody said. "This is a very unusual film, and I'm sure you'll all enjoy it."
Film, she thought. If it was anything like the sculpture he had shown her this afternoon, this would be an eye-opener all right. Between her thighs she felt a tingling, a warm moist desire that seemed to increase as she puffed at the strange cigarette. Carl's hand was now stroking her creamy soft thigh as Woody talked. He put his other arm behind her, on the backrest. The hand went to cup one of her lush breasts. She tried to wriggle loose but the hand tightened almost painfully. She looked around. No one was paying the slightest attention. Angie, on one couch, in her transparent blouse, sat next to an elderly man. Her legs were slightly parted and the skirt was pulled up on her lushly rounded thighs. The man's hand was between her legs, gently massaging the rich pubic mound.
Ramona's two young men had changed. Two others were on either side of her, each endearingly caressing and sucking on her munificent breasts while she sat, her eyes half closed, dreamily enjoying their wet mouths on her flesh.
Carl now began to fondle her breast. She made a face and tried to rise, but Harry, seeing her, came over quickly. He leaned close and hissed, "You screw this one up, you dumb little bitch and you'll regret it for the rest of your life, what there is of it."
She gasped as he put his hand on the back of her neck, and tightened. His words reached only her own ears. "You fuck this up and I'll fix you so it takes you a week to die. And you'll be screaming every minute."
He left her. She drew a deep breath. You'll be screaming every minute, he had said. She remembered reading about the treatment these men gave rebelling girls. One had been taken to a remote farmhouse and given three-days of nonstop torture, torture so fiendish that after the second day of steady agony she had been begging to die. They prolonged it through a third day, when she finally died, out of her mind with pain.
She relaxed against the couch and let Carl's hand wander. On the other side Woody watched. She gathered that he didn't mind if Carl had his pleasure with her. She didn't understand why he would want to share her, but if that was what he wanted, she wouldn't stand in his way.
The lights dimmed. The projector in the alcove began to hum. The film went on. It was a relief to have the lights down. She didn't want to see what went on around her. Couples who could not wait were already intertwining. She heard gasps and the rustle of garments, the shift of bodies on the couches, low cries of pleasure or pain.
In the semi-darkness Carl closed in again. His hand crept down her shoulder and reached for one of her breasts. On the screen a young couple sat in a bed. It was evident that, under the sheet, they were touching each other's genitals. Then he twitched the sheet away and the camera came in for a close up, showing her hand softly wrapped around his hardening cock. Her eyes were tightly closed, in obvious rapture over the task she was performing.
Melanie twitched as Carl, with one hand on her breast outside the suit jacket, put his other hand on her thigh and began to massage the firm flesh. She tensed against it, but then the screen caught her full attention. The man turned toward the door. He rose and opened it, and suddenly it was pushed back and a gigantic fawn-colored German shepherd leaped into the room. He stood near the bed, looking down at the woman. With the sheet back, she was revealed in a thin nightgown, drawn up to her waist. A gleaming moistness on her upper thighs showed that she was already in a state of sexual excitement. The camera centered, in close-up, on the swollen lips of her pussy, sparsely covered with soft pubic down. They were parted slightly and revealed the narrow pink slit of moist, glistening inner flesh. The man came close and kneeled over her, parting her thighs. The camera switched to her face. The audience could see her eyes dimming until her glassy heat-smoked eyes stared fuzzily. She was in fever-pitch sexual rut. Her mouth hung open in ecstatic rapture. Her body began to sway and writhe. Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow.
Then the camera close-up dropped so that it looked straight up between the couple's legs. Her thighs were swept wide apart and the tender lips of her vagina stretched wide to embrace the man's long thick cock that slithered into her pink wet passage. He thrust it rhythmically in and out of the warm elastic opening of her vagina. It could be seen glistening wetly between her legs as he rose and fell in time to the rocking thrusts of her own hungrily rocking pelvis.
Melanie felt herself caught up with the action on the screen. The obscene movements of the couple, the motionless, watching dog, took on a crystal clarity due to the cigarettes she had smoked. Every gesture, every curve of flesh, every thrust of loins and sway of breast assumed a significance, seemed to sear itself into her consciousness. She felt her own excitement mounting. The moist warmth between her legs grew and grew. As the slow tingle burned at her cunt, she felt a kinship with the girl on the screen. The tingle burned into her moist vagina. The lips twitched as she watched the man's thick stiff penis lunge again and again into the welcoming tightness of the girl's crotch.
Her own breasts began to bounce as Carl began to massage them. He unbuttoned the top of the suit and reached in gently and pinched one of her nipples. She felt her juices redouble their flow in her vagina as his hand caressed her thigh. She was glad the dimness masked her face. She would have been mortified had anyone seen her as she enjoyed Carl's probing hands.
Then Woody made his move. Obviously he had allowed Carl to set her up, warm her up. Now his own hand moved to her other breast. Immediately she felt a difference. While Carl was demanding, rough, insistent, Woody's hand had the touch of the connoisseur-gentle, explorative, giving as much pleasure as it took. As both of her breasts were being fondled, she compared the two. The breast under Carl's ministrations was getting sore from his unimaginative squeezing. But the one caressed by Woody was coming to life. The impulses of eroticism were reaching out to every area of her body.
She smiled to herself. She had learned something: take two men, one handsome, big, muscular, young, and one short, almost a dumpy creature, and you can't tell which will be the better lover. The good looker now was an unimaginative slob, the clown, while the other was the artist.
On the screen the action was now heightened. The thick pummeling instrument disappeared into the girl as the man, with a violent jerk, began spewing his hot sticky semen into the palpitating vagina. The man rolled off the bed exhausted and landed on the floor. The girl suddenly twisted her face in horror. The gigantic tan German shepherd jumped on the bed, staring at her, growling softly. Her hand went to her mouth to choke back a scream of anguish, but the dog lunged at her and she cringed back. She stiffened into a position of helpless subjugation, her thighs spread wide. The dog lowered his nose and sniffed at her cunt. His tongue flicked out and licked wetly at the pink edges. The girl tensed. The man tried to rise but a savage snarl from the dog made him back off. The dog resumed his lapping at her vagina, the wet tongue running over the quivering bud of her clitoris, down the edges of her lips. The girl bucked, trying to squirm away.
Then the camera shifted to her face. She was contorted with fright; she didn't want this attention, was horrified and disgusted by it. But little by little the enforced pleasure was driving her into ecstasy. Her legs lifted and reached out to clasp around the sides of the huge animal's hairy body. The moist vulva opened widely to accept the maddening tongue that thrust in and out. Her mouth opened on a scream of ecstasy. The dog responded, rampaging her helpless cunt with wild savage animal thrusts that reached deep into the hungry cavern of her slit. The girl gave one final scream of passion, then sank back, wet with perspiration, breathing heavily, totally spent.
Melanie herself was panting. Her upbringing was outraged, but her womanness was turning her into a nymphomaniac. Her veins were alive with the warm of the drug she had smoked, with the sight of Ramona and Angie being fondled, with Carl's and Woody's hands on her body. Woody now leaned closer and opened fully the jacket so that the sides fell apart and her eager, palpitating breasts jumped out. Small pricks of sensation ran up and down her legs as each man, manipulating her breasts, rolled and tweaked the nipples into trembling hardness.
Lying back, she felt as if she would explode. In the past weeks of training she had learned how to bring a man close to climax and then get him down again; she had also learned how to hold herself back. Now, under Carl's young, sophomoric unsubtleties, it was easy to hold back, but Woody was good. Carl was like a farm boy milking a cow; Woody was the artist. His hand began to caress her inner thigh. She lifted her hips and pulled her skirt out of his way, clearing her pubic area. His fingers crept up toward her vagina, tantalizingly going close and drawing back. Do it, she wanted to scream at him, put it in! But she waited, enjoying the erotic teasing.
He leaned close and put his tongue into her mouth. She sucked it greedily, visions of the afternoon when, instead of his tongue, she had his graceful throbbing penis in her eager mouth. She remembered the pleasure it had given her, so now she wanted to pleasure him back. As his hand ecstasied her at breast, the other did the same at her cunt, and she reached out to unzip his slacks and pull out the already stiff cock. Gently she began to knead the tip of it, rolling the head back and forth.
"Slow," he said, "or I'll come right now."
"Good," she said, pulling back from his tongue. "Go ahead and come. Then I'll do it again." She handled him until he almost climbed the back of the couch in the sudden thrust of ecstasy she caused him. He came in her hand, and she massaged him until the last drop seeped.
"Thank you, my dear," he said. "Now watch the screen."
Now the dog, instead of getting down, nudged the woman on the bed. Her fear returned, and she obediently did as the animal directed. He pushed her with his nose until she turned over and lay, female-dog fashion, on hands and knees before him. Her buttocks were elevated to him in total surrender.
Melanie squirmed against the velvet fabric of the couch, her vagina a mass of electric longing. The dog sniffed at the girl's cunt again, this time from underneath. Then he mounted her, his forepaws resting on her back. The pink stiff prick slid out from its sheath, for a moment visible to the audience in all its red hugeness. Then the tapered point approached the moist glistening crevice of her cunt from behind. The girl's buttocks rotated, half in fear, half in desire. The dog growled as the jabbing cock missed its mark.
The dog grew frantic at his unsuccessful effort to enter the girl. His long, passion-inflamed member slithered up and down near the tantalizing warm wetness of her vulva. The girl twitched with desire. She, in frustration, reached down and grabbed the throbbing canine shaft in her hand and guided the tapered point into the warmly pulsating slit. Her wet feminine flesh spread as the wet shaft entered. The dog, realizing he was home, let out a long whine as his cock slithered all the way into the young waiting pussy. The girl groaned in ecstasy as the dog pumped faster and faster. Her hips were grinding in lascivious circles as she forgot everything but the bestial fucking she was getting from the dog. The large firm orbs of her breasts danced and swayed beneath her as her body rocked in time to the dog's thrusts.
She was no longer human, was as savage as the dog, as she lunged and thrashed under the primitive lunges of the animal. Her lips opened on a loud scream as she came, the sound reverberating throughout the darkened living room.
Angie had lifted her dress and was stretched out full length on the couch. Her elderly partner was positioned above her, his long thin cock poised over her waiting cunt. She reached out, grabbed it eagerly, and brought into her hungry slit. Ramona, Melanie could just barely see, was on another couch, now fully naked, practicing 69 with one young man while another reached between their tight bodies to massage the magnificent breasts. Carrie was wrapped around her man, on the floor, as they writhed and pumped to the thrusts of his great prick.
Woody, beside her, called out: "Lights." The room brightened as one of the servants flipped a switch. Then he leaned close to whisper to her: "You may have been wondering why I allow this clown Carl to handle you. Well, it's a challenge. It keeps me young, competing with younger men. It usually works out to the girl's advantage. So, my dear, prepare yourself for the night of your life."
CHAPTER FIVE
The words sent a tingle of lewd anticipation through her veins. She didn't know if she was going-or coming. Carl's finger and thumb were twirling her tumescent clitoris, causing a streak of rapture to flash like lightning through her body. Much as she enjoyed it, she wanted Woody. And he, as if on cue, rose and began to shed his shirt and slacks, regarding her meanwhile with libidinous anticipation in his eyes. He stood naked, his thick white cock springing into view. She felt her face blush at the memory of it deep in her mouth that afternoon. Shame? Yes, but rapture, glory as well.
She yearned for it as a child for its mother's nipple.
Carl, taking another drink, muttered: "Come on, let's see it all, baby." He helped her take off the jacket and skirt. She sat fully naked, exposed, on the couch. Carl himself got out of his clothes. She saw the muscularly ridged body and the now stiff cock, and thought that if he had some finesse, he'd be able to make any girl happy. But she turned her eyes to the flabby body of Woody. This one's older and almost wrinkled, but he's a real man, she thought.
Carl's hands came out to cup the refulgent breasts. Woody sat back, watching with a small smile. Carl's harsh kneading hands moved restlessly over her body, taking his own pleasure, not thinking at all of giving her any in return. Woody watched Melanie's voluptuous body cringe under the attack. Carl's hands flipped from her breasts to her vagina and buttocks, prodding, squeezing, causing Melanie's face to crease in revulsion. It aroused him, however, to watch. His own lust mounted as Carl's hands pressed the firm full thighs, sadistically leaving red marks on the flesh. Then he splayed himself over her. "Spread your legs open, baby," he commanded. He reached down and with insistent fingers held her warm cunt-lips apart. "More," he said. She obediently spread her womanhood farther for him. Despite her repulsion, a delicate stream of moisture seeped from the tight oval band of flesh that ringed her vagina. Her hot empty tunnel hungered to be filled.
Dimly she heard all around her the cries of lust. But her attention was on the fire between her legs. At that moment Woody made his move. His finger came down and came to play gently at the lips of her cunt. Carl drew back, angry but obedient. Melanie's vagina flowered wider and her moistness increased as Woody's finger worked skillfully at her womanhood. Her hips began to grind as he worked it around tenderly, eliciting from her all the vibrations that a woman's body is capable of. She was almost ready to come when he withdrew it with a laugh. She almost wept, but he turned his attentions to her breasts for a change of pace. He took one in his hand and gently bobbed it up and down, while his mouth went to the nipple of the other. His tongue soothed the insults Carl had caused to her flesh, teasingly removing the pain and bringing tingling desire to it instead. Then his finger went down to her cunt again, causing it to become once more alive with wild racing pleasure that felt like tongues of fire leaping in and out. One hand massaged her breast, the other almost made her go out of her mind as it played music on the strings of her cunt.
"Carl," Woody said, "now you can have your boyish fun. Get in her." Carl moved into position, and then looked up as Woody moved closer.
"Hey, man, what's on? We can't both fuck her at the same time."
"Oh yes, we can," Woody smiled. "You in front and I in back."
"Hey, fantastic!"
Melanie gulped. But Woody reassured her: "Don't worry, my dear. It won't hurt. Harry tells me you had it this way once, but that was by slobs. Carl, for all his crudeness, is great at frontal entry. And when you feel me in back, you'll know what it is to be a total woman."
The significance of what he said pierced through her dim drugged consciousness like an electric shock. She couldn't believe her own ears. Her mind was so fuzzy that she did not fully remember that this double entry had been done to her by Leroy and Clyde. They were going to fuck her and sodomize her at the same time! It was-was-inhuman, that's what it was! Again she was ready to jump up and run but she remembered Harry: you'll be screaming every minute.
The mere thought of the two men abusing her caused her thighs and buttocks to clench tightly in automatic response. Woody was on his feet now, his huge cock standing straight out from his pink fleshed stomach. Behind her, Carl Williams reached for her leg and, bending it harshly, forced one foot flat on the floor so that her knee was high in the air. Woody held her trembling body close and tight. Suddenly he flipped her over, so that the front of her body, breasts dancing, was fully facing Carl, and her lush white buttocks were presented to Woody himself. Both men were breathing hard now in anticipation. All around them rose the sounds of frantic fucking, but Melanie, Woody, and Carl heard them only dimly. Two young men were doing to Ramona's ripe body what would be done to Melanie-one pumping in front, one in back, while she chortled in ecstasy. Angie's man was in the saddle, his fleshy rod sluicing in and out while the red-haired girl moaned in bliss. Close by, Carrie, her tall, lush body completely naked, was down on a man with an enormous cock, greedily pulling it in and out of her mouth while above her he writhed in the first throes of his coming.
Melanie's attention snapped back to Woody, whose hands were now opening her buttocks, drawing her cheeks wide apart. She moaned and tried to hold them tensed together, but the pressure of his fingers stretched the moist crevice wide apart. She felt a cool rush of air between her buttocks as the tiny ring of soft tender flesh was exposed to his gaze. "Lovely," he whispered. She held her breath as he teased at her anus with his finger, insinuating it slowly into the depths. She pressed her face into the fabric of the couch as he slipped it in to the first knuckle. She contracted her flesh on it and moaned, part in pain, part in pleasure. Her buttocks began to grind involuntarily.
Then Woody said, "All right, Carl. You enter from the front." As Woody continued to twirl his finger in her tight, indignant anus, Carl approached her from the front. The couch was wide enough to hold all three comfortably. She saw his cock, fully engorged now, the thick foreskin back and the huge bulbous head popping out. He dipped his pelvis forward, rubbing the thick white lubricant that had appeared at the tip of the shining head over the tightly clenched opening of her cunt.
Woody, in back, suddenly slipped his finger from her rectum with a soft sucking sound. Lowering himself along her back, he forced her legs wider apart. He slid his hands around her, fingering the soft flesh of her belly, then up to cup her breasts and jiggle them up and down. He raised his pelvis and she could feel the tip of his cock sliding wetly, nibbling it seemed at her open and spread crevice.
And then suddenly he pushed forward. "Ohhhh-hhh!" she cried. "Ohhhhh, no no no no ... please...." The probing member seemed hard and savage at first as it ravaged into her puckered anus, and then grew rubbery and comfortable in her. She heard a slight pop as his seven inches of rod screwed in. She twisted, every nerve in her body tense against the entry. Her behind tossed and thrashed, bucking violently as if to escape, but each twitch of her body only served to force the thick erect instrument deeper into the tender opening. He began to pump in and out with vicious purpose, gently, yet vigorously so that at times it seemed as if he were punishing the lovely white ass writhing in front of him. She tried to pull forward but Carl, at the front, stiffened and the movement only impaled her on his cock. She was now effectively skewered front and back.
She felt as if she were being split open. She plunged back, away from Carl's cock, and that made Woody groan with pleasure as the move drove her anus tighter around his own. When she jerked forward to ease the punishing insertion of Woody, it brought her cunt up tighter around Carl.
Suddenly Woody withdrew. She went soft with relief. But he only said: "Switch, Carl. I want the front now. You take the back." Carl, with a shrug, pulled his prick out of her with a soft sluicing sound. They both turned her over. Woody was peering down between the lushly sloping mounds of her breasts, then he grabbed his hard demanding member in his hand and sank it brutally into the splayed-out lips surrounding the moist hole of her writhing vagina. She groaned and squirmed as he surged forward in her in one smooth liquid stroke that penetrated to the very depths of her pussy. Carl entered from behind, and with one lunging thrust, reached bottom, so that the heads of both cocks almost met inside her, rubbing along the thin membrane of flesh that separated cunt from rectum. She was skewered to the hilt in both passages, filled to bursting with two battering rams.
Both men were in a state of wild excitement. Clenching her teeth, she began to move to their rhythm, allowing them the freedom of her helplessly impaled genitals.
Woody was now fucking her in and out of her wet lubricated pussy with long hard strokes, using a furiously beating rhythm. Carl fell into the rhythm so that it caused him to withdraw as Woody lunged forward. They picked up each other's momentum as they each plunged into her tightly clasping channels. In their heated passion neither was aware that she twitched and jerked between them like a puppet on an invisible string.
This isn't real, she thought as the two thick cocks rapidly slithered in and out of her ravaged passageways, violating her at each end. They had monstrous instruments to begin with, and now she could feel them expanding inside her, thickening to unbelievable dimensions. As Woody pulled back preparatory to another forward lunge she glanced down. She saw the moist pink flanges of her cunt's tender lips pulling out with his cock on the outstroke and then disappearing in again as he plunged deep into her belly again. Behind her she imagined her grotesquely distended anal passage, widening, stretched to new and unfamiliar limits as Carl fucked her with sadistic violence.
Coming, coming ... the word began to reverberate in her confused mind. She was reacting to the impaling violation of her body's openings. All her thoughts centered on one thing: soon they would both shoot their twin jets of sperm into her cock-battered body. She tightened her anal muscles along the long thick tool buried in her rectum and began a slow methodical rotation around it. Carl groaned, flexing his cock deep in her rear-hole. She throbbed and tightened her muscles around him like a clenched fist and he whimpered in delight. She began to undulate her hips in abandonment, surging like sea-waves, in and out, her mouth open on mewing cries as she started to twitch and vibrate like a tigress in heat. She was now giving back all that they were giving her. The little bit of whore that lies dormant in every woman broke out in a wild tingle of masochistic delight. She was now enjoying her humiliation, her violation. There was still pain, but it was the hot, humid pain of raw sex, strangely pleasurable, excitingly lewd.
"She likes it!" Carl grunted to Woody. "She likes to be double-fucked!"
Her wild gyrations signalled her complete surrender to the two cocks fucking her vagina and rectum. She moaned ceaselessly now, waving the trembling whiteness of her ass at Carl in lewd invitation for him to fuck deeper and harder. Her teeth bared, her tongue flicking out wetly in time to the increasing power of the long smooth strokes that carried the full length of their plunging fleshy rods. Her long golden hair was spread out and it flew around as her head jerked back and forth.
"Let me in too!" The voice came out of nowhere.
Melanie halted her orgiastic gyrations and looked up through lust-glazed, smoky eyes, and saw the man who had been fucking Carrie. He was kneeling before her face, his throbbing hardened prick moving steadily toward her lips. "Oh! Yes yes yes!" she screamed. "In my face too! Fuck me in my face! Ass and cunt and face! Give me those big eight inches in the mouth! Fuck me in the mouth!"
Her crazy random words were cut short as he rammed the thick rod of pulsating flesh past her soft moist lips into the warm wet darkness of her waiting mouth. The spongy bluntness of the head slid in full length, past her curling tongue. The rounded ovals of her cheeks closed her it. She started using her tongue, licking it around the bulbous cockhead, making it jerk and throb inside her mouth. She clasped her smooth lips on it and began to suck him with a moist nibbling pressure. Her tongue licked and curled around him as the hunger burned deeper and grew in her vagina and rectum, both spread to their limits, both titillating to great gusts of sensation.
The rising tide of orgasm was beginning deep in her quivering belly. She licked and sucked at the fleshy rod imbedded deep in her mouth. She sucked like a demented demon, her lips soaked and glistening from the mixture of the man's slowly seeping pre-come and her own saliva. She drove her hips in deeper widening circles around the two cocks filling her rectum and cunt as they ground faster and faster inside her. She fucked furiously as she felt her insides erupting in great white flashes of fire that tunneled through her veins in an exploding stream of ecstasy. She was going out of her mind now ... "Oh God Oh God I'm going to die with the pleasure if it stops I'll blow up don't let it ever end Oh God oh God oh God...."
As the miracle grew in her cunt she sputtered around the cock now ejaculating wildly in her mouth: "I'm coming I'm coming!" Her body tossed and jerked between the two men impaling her. She twitched as though caught in a tempest. At her words Woody and Carl increased the speed of their strokes, plunging ever deeper in her vagina and rectum, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, until both exploded in ecstatic bursts from the long fleshy hoses buried deep in the dark softness of her body, filling her insides almost to bursting.
There was a final lunge from the fleshy pole in her mouth. Then he, and Woody and Carl all collapsed, falling off the couch onto the floor. She lay back, almost unconscious from the pleasure and pain, her spent body heaving, a wet pool of come from their three organs spilling out of her mouth and from between her legs to form dark soaked circles on the rug.
She slowly, coming out of her sexual barbarity, saw that a group of other guests had been gathered around to watch. Her face flamed scarlet, but then it faded as they all, after viewing her handling of three men at once, went back to their own couches to either try to emulate her feat or originate some of their own. She lay in utter stillness, her eyes closed again, exhausted sighs of satisfaction coming from her sperm-covered lips. She let the delights of her total surrender to the three men's depraved rape re-run slowly in her mind.
So this was to be her life. Well, she was hooked, definitely. For better or for worse she was in it, all the way. This was to be it. Degradation, yes. But pleasure also. It beats typing. It beats changing diapers.
From then on the evening was even more of a blur. Partners began to be exchanged, more so than earlier. Melanie herself was fucked over and over again by men whose faces were only amorphous shadows. Once five of them took her to the adjoining billiard room and tried to see how many orgasms they could induce in her.
First, they each screwed her normally. One kept count as she gasped and shuddered to each climax. "That's five," the scorekeeper called out. But they had brought her to the five orgasms so quickly that they could not harden their penises again immediately.
"So we've got tongues, haven't we?" one asked.
"Great." The others spread-eagled her on the pool table and one went down on her, his tongue lasciviously sluicing around in the vagina that, although it had been feeding voraciously all evening, was insatiable and still hungry. Each tongue brought her to a screaming erotic explosion. When the last finished she was covered with sweat. She lay with her legs sprawled out, her pussy wet, her love juices pouring out and down her thighs and buttocks. She was panting, and with insurge of breath her perspiring breasts, incarnadined from all the rough handling and massaging of the evening, with their nipples standing up like small thumbs, bobbed and shook.
They worked on her once more, this time with fingers. Each took his turn in massaging her clitoris, and each managed to bring her to climax. "Fifteen," the scorekeeper said. "Not bad, not bad at all."
She fell asleep on the table and woke only when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Harry, himself half asleep but now dressed, said, "Come on, baby. Time to go."
Rising languidly, she stretched. Smiling to herself, she thought back to the crazy night she had just passed. How many times had she come? Her vagina twitched in gleeful remembrance. Who cares how many, she thought. It was glorious. And, as she rose and followed Harry out to where her clothes were, the reverie went hrough her mind: that's what's nice about this, it doesn't run out, like money runs out when you spend too much. A woman can come and come and come. She can experience an almost endless series of orgasms, screaming in ecstasy at each one, and then go back for more.
Yes, she was hooked-definitely.
CHAPTER SIX
The lights of the Carlton-Mayfair Hotel glittered on the rainy street. Cars flitted past, some, the more expensive Continentals and Mercedes and Cadillacs, pulling up to the entrance to drop or pick up well dressed couples and laughing parties. The doorman was kept busy as a bug on a hot rock, opening car doors, flipping the revolving hotel doors, whistling for taxis.
He had seen many beautiful young women in his tenure. This, as one of the leading hotels in the city, saw most of the attractive people of the world. They came-movie stars, celebrities, call-girls, brides, divorcees, mistresses, slaves of one sort or another. And most of them were so voluptuously lovely that the doorman, old as he was, felt his glands twitch against desires he could no longer gratify.
But now he stared. From a cab that had just pulled up stepped a radiantly beautiful young creature, tall, with long, luxuriously waved hair the tan color of a sinewy panther. The white raincoat was drawn tightly around her against the rain, but it could not camouflage the exuberant lines of her body. As she walked with long, graceful strides under the canopy and into the blazing lobby, every line moved in fluid abandon.
Jesusss, what a chick! he thought. If only I was thirty years younger. Then he turned away ruefully to open another cab door. Even if you were thirty years younger, went through his mind, you'd never afford that. That's high-priced tail, that's upper-income-bracket cunt and you couldn't afford even a sniff.
In the hotel lobby Melanie Powell stopped to examine her reflection in the full-length mirrored door of a jewelry shop. Drops of rain lingered in her tawny hair and "gleamed back at her like diamonds scattered like stars. The rain had slightly disordered her hair, just enough to give it a wild, wanton, abandoned aspect.
As she scrutinized her image in the glass she realized that she had not changed much outwardly in the past months. Since her induction into the life of an expensive call-girl several months ago by Harry King, she had remained on the outside the same voluptuous, desirable girl she had always been. Whatever changes were apparent were small, all surface ones. She was fuller-breasted and rounder of hip. She carried herself with more assurance.
She tossed back her coat and, aware of the admiring looks of the men in the lobby, let her eyes range over her best feature-the smooth, up-pointing breasts that were half exposed in the low cut gown. Yes, they had expanded-why, she could not tell. Perhaps it was from all the usage to which they had been put. She smiled, remembering how many men had toyed with the lovely orbs, making her sigh like a female cat being stroked. But luckily, despite their usage, there was not the slightest hint of sag. She wore no bra-she never did, without support they poked out and up impertinently.
Her second best feature, her rounded hips and buttocks, were clearly outlined in the soft clinging material of the dress. Under it she wore nothing. Here too she felt that buttocks like hers deserved complete freedom. The only change, she concluded from her scrutiny, was that the little-girl-from-Iowa look was gone. In its place was the animality of the total woman, the volutuous sensual barbarity of the brazen, sensuous female she had become.
She ran a silver comb through the cascading blonde waves, then turned toward the bar where she was to meet her client. The steward met her at the door.
"Good evening, Miss Powell. Your usual table?"
"Please, Tony."
"Pretty nasty night out there," he offered.
"Yes." She wasn't in the mood for small talk.
He led her to a secluded booth. The room was quiet and sedate, with only two men at the bar talking softly. She had formed the habit of meeting her clients here, where the management and help knew her. It gave her a chance to size the clients up, to decide if they were safe to service. In the event that one proved obstreperous or obnoxious, it was easy to signal Tony or any of the others, who came with two husky assistants and escorted the client out with so much dignity that he almost felt flattered rather than ejected. She was so much in demand those days that Harry did not much mind if she turned a client away if he turned ugly. There were enough others waiting in line for her.
The steward brought her usual drink. She leaned back against the plush seat and sipped. It was good to relax. It had been hectic recently. There had been two hours at the beauty parlor where every inch of her had been pampered and beautified. The night before she had been to the studio of an up-and-coming young sculptor. All of yesterday had been spent with Woody Van Nostrand at his mansion in the surburbs, just he and she.
She tittered like a schoolgirl when she recalled what she had done to him. She had thought he would die of pleasure. But she had come out on top-in a manner of speaking. Three hundred dollars, he had given her. Not bad for about six hours of work. Besides, he had made her come five times. She giggled again. Not bad for a middle-aged man. Twice by straight fucking. Then twice more by tongue-fucking. And once by his educated finger. Not bad at all. Her thighs trembled in recollection. And he had paid her! From the pleasure she had gotten out of the day, she should have paid him.-She chortled inside. Not a bad business to be in.
She glanced at her watch. Her client was supposed to be here at eleven. It was now five minutes to. She would give him until ten after and then go back to her apartment and go to bed. It would be a kind of holiday to go home and to bed, to curl up with an apple and a good book instead of a man, for a change. If she had an off night, Harry wouldn't mind. She was bringing him-and herself-more money than any of his girls ever had.
She recalled her early days as a prostitute. Through shyness she had turned off many clients, and Harry had talked to her. Then he had yelled at her. Then he slapped her. Finally, he had given her what he called the treatment-two solid days of spankings and strappings, and all kinds of pain-inducing punishment. They had been so skillfully applied that there had not been a mark on her body. But her spirit had been agonized. She remembered the searing pain now with a quick intake of breath. She had screamed at the punishment until her throat had been raw. And after a time she screamed when he just made a move toward her, even though he did not touch her.
When he had finally released her, she had gone out on calls and had never turned off a client again, until recently, when she had reached her position of being able to pick and choose without angering Harry.
Harry had told her that tonight's trick was a big shot in market research. Harry himself had not met him. These things were arranged through four or five different people, so as to dilute the responsibility and keep too many contacts from knowing each other. It wasn't like 8th Avenue in New York, Harry had told her, or downtown Chicago, or Haight-Asbury here in San Francisco, where the girl stood on a corner and tried to ensnare her trick. In such a case only three people were involved-the girl, the customer, and the pimp who took what the girl earned. She was in the big time, Harry pointed out, where they dealt with men who could afford to pay for the luxury of anonymity. Instead of a sleazy hotel room, these affairs were consumated in well-appointed apartments or clean, luxurious hotels. All was dignified and clean-and expensive.
As she sipped she wondered what tonight's client would be like, and what he would demand of her. There were the ordinary ones who screwed, put on their pants, and left. Then there were the kinky funks, the out-of-sight weirdos who had all kinds of oddball motions.
Well, she could accommodate them all. And enjoy them all. That's why she was so good at her work. She learned from each man. And besides learning, she had so many kinky desires of her own, so much lava bubbling up inside of her, that she enjoyed trying out new techniques. The men sensed this. There is no stimulant for a man like a woman who enjoys sex. And she could think of nothing more enjoyable than a thick, throbbing eight-inch shaft driving like a machine into her hot cunt, while another palpitating one was deep in her hungrily sucking, greedy mouth. Occasionally she had gone to sessions Harry had arranged, in which three and even four men wanted one girl. She had taken them on, making them ecstatic at the obvious eagerness she evidenced, whereas other girls would have turned pale. She eagerly accepted one in her vagina, the second in her rectum, a third in her mouth, and occasionally she masturbated a fourth-all at the same time.
She ran her tongue over her lips, wetting them. All she had to do was think about it and the stirrings began between her legs. Glancing again at her watch, she saw it was five after eleven. She took another sip. The two men at the bar left and two more came in. One glanced at her, then spoke to the bartender. The bartender laughed and said a few words. The man turned away, obviously crest-fallen. Evidently the bartender had told him that the lovely blonde temptress he had ogled was not in his class, that he couldn't afford her.
Too bad her client was not coming. Her thoughts had warmed her up to the point at which she avidly desired a healthy rampaging man in bed with her, his demanding masculine hands ranging all over her own equally naked young body while the rain beat at the windows and the wind made it cozy inside.
At ten after eleven she started to rise and head for the lobby and a cab when she saw a man standing in the entrance to the lounge. Oh God!
Her heart took a leap. Had it not been for her ribs it would have jumped out of her chest. So violent was the lurch of her heart that her breasts shook.
Wasn't this an irony? As her heart quieted, she saw the exquisitely sardonic irony of it!
The tall man was shaking the rain from his expensive Aquascutum raincoat. He couldn't see her clearly because the lights were dimmer over the tables than at the entrance, where he stood. But despite the dimness in the lounge, there was no mistaking his features. She almost laughed aloud.
Father, dear father, are you in for a shock!
She wondered if Ray Powell would recognize her, his daughter, his dear little corn-fed innocent from Iowa. She had make up on now, whereas the last time he had seen her, the night she had been kidnapped into this life of degradation, she had been a simple, no-make-up college girl.
Maybe if she kept her face turned toward the dimness constantly, he would not recognize her. Then she snorted in derision, realizing how silly that was. As if a father could not recognize his own daughter! Had they not seen each other for most of her ife, as had been the case when she had first come to San Francisco, it may have bene possible. But now, after only a few months, he would know her no matter how she was made up, what she had on.
Well, all the same, she would go up to him and give him the password he had been given to assure the correct contact. Then let's see how he reacts, when he realizes that the expensive call-girl whose body he had rented for the night is his own daughter. Let's see Ray Powell's face when he comes to the horrifying realization that she was a whore, than she had become a whore because of him.
All her resentment, all her disappointment, even some hatred, came to the surface. Had he not accepted Harry's invitation that night at the airport? Had he acted more like a father than a bon-vivant boulevardier, she would not be here tonight, a depraved harlot, a prostitute. She admitted that she loved every semen-scented moment of her life, that it had awakened sensations in her body that she had never known existed. But still she saw that it was a life of humility, of degradation.
And you were responsible for it all, daddy dear! As she walked toward him her mood turned to one of eager anticipation. She couldn't wait to see his face when he realized who it was that he had. arranged to spend a depraved night with.
And if by some far-out chance he didn't recognize her (she noticed that he seemed more than half-drunk and might really not recognize her) what fun it would be to give him the night of his life, to fuck and suck him even drier than Angie had done that night when all this had first started. And then, just as he was leaving, wouldn't it jolt him to call him "Daddy!" or even just "Ray", and let him know who she was, how he had caused this life for her.
She giggled as she approached him. Daddy-o, you're in for some night, either way. She hoped he didn't recognize her, because then the pleasure would be exquisite-to let him rise from between her widespread legs, where the juices of his and her intermingled love were still dripping steamily, and say to him:
