The slim blonde pressed herself even closer against her beautiful instructress and buried her face in the crook of Marjorie's neck. She turned her head up, brushing her face against Marjorie's cheek. "I feel so funny, lightheaded, I guess, from the pain. You really did hurt me, you know. I think you should make it up to me now."
Marjorie had been startled; she didn't know when the roles had become reversed, but seemingly they had. She thrilled at the touch of Maxine's cheek against her own. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, but it was for your own good. What, pray tell, would you like in recompense for the discomfort you have suffered?"
"Kiss me!" the girl said with a breathless urgency in her voice.
CHAPTER ONE
Judge Austin W. Black leaned back in his chair as his Japanese butler, Yoshio, presented a beautiful black lacquered humidor, filled with an impressive array of expensive cigars. The white-haired, fat justice selected a Havana panatela, held it to his bulbous nose and sniffed appreciatively, then put it into his mouth, while Yoshio respectfully tendered a silver lighter until the cigar's end glowed red.
"An excellent dinner, Yoshio. My compliments to the cook," Judge Black drawled. He exhaled a sigh of utter content along with a cloud of cigar smoke. The good food and wine circulated delightfully in his sys tem. His feelings of satiety were short-lived, though, as he felt a familiar stirring in his loins. The Judge smiled. Not the sort of man to leave the fulfillment of any of his needs-or his desires-to chance, he knew his release would be pleasurable. In fact, the instrument of relief was waiting in a little room on the second floor of his elaborately furnished mansion.
"Everything is arranged, Yoshio?" He turned to the wiry little man, with his small face, big black tortoiseshell spectacles, and sleek, black hair. Yoshio Kimura had been in his service for a decade and knew his tastes and predilections so well that he could readily anticipate them. The man was a treasure, and particularly invaluable for occasions just such as this.
The little Japanese valet nodded, his eyes glittering with anticipation. "Everything will be to your satisfaction," he replied laconically.
"Excellent, Yoshio." Judge Black took a puff at his cigar, examined the panatela critically, and then exhaled another wreath of aromatic blue smoke. Life was indeed good, and it promised to be still better.
He sat there until he had finished his cigar and another cup of coffee, then downed a pony of Grand Marnier delivered to him on an ornate silver tray. He made a great show of taking the wide glass goblet between his hands, raising it to his nose and savoring the bouquet before taking a sip. And when he had finished it at last, he belched and rose from the table. He was really going to enjoy the special treat that awaited him this evening.
For five years he had looked forward to this little reunion with Edith Garvin. Five years ago, he had been state's attorney of Jurgens County, in the southwestern part of Arkansas. Edith Garvin had been his secretary. The office force consisted of about a dozen girls, of whom Edith was the most tempting by far.
Although Edith was only twenty-five, she dressed and acted like a middle-aged spinster. Her work was efficiently done, but her manner was reticent and prudish, and she rarely spoke, even to her associates. Despite her best intentions, however, Edith Garvin was an extraordinarily attractive woman.
Even though she was a petite five feet four, her body was that of a ripe, full-blown Venus, something that not even the most modest of her calf-length, loose-fitting dresses could hide. She wore her dark brown hair in a prim bun at the back of her neck, but this only served to emphasize the exquisite roundness of her face and the warmth of her olive skin. Her eyes were also dark brown, and were framed by glasses which bespoke her intelligence, but did nothing to hide her perpetually wistful expression. Her nose was a trifle snub, with rather broadly spreading wings, and her mouth, though small, was lush and tremulous.
Her employee file contained very little about her life or habits. She was single; she had been born in a small town just west of New York City and had come to Arkansas after having worked two years in Springfield, Illinois, as a file clerk. This move had reunited her with a distant second cousin on her mother's side-her parents had died some years before-and she had gone to night school to take up shorthand so as to qualify as a secretary.
She had been working for him exactly eight months, and he had attempted on several occasions to invite her to dinner, only to be courteously-but firmly-rebuffed each time. Then, one never-to-be-forgotten Friday afternoon during vacation time, when most of the other girls in the office were already away, he had found himself alone with Edith.
He had emerged from his private office and stood transfixed as he watched her bend over her desk with her skirts drawn tightly over the ripe, full, poutingly inviting cheeks of her behind. Unable to resist the salacious impulse, he had tiptoed up to her and brushed against her. Unbalanced by the unexpected contact, Edith had fallen over, sprawling on top of the desk. Delighted that he finally had such a tempting morsel at his disposal, he had quickly leaned over and placed one of his forearms firmly across her back, effectively trapping her in place. Before she could react, he had flipped up her long skirt and revealed her stocking-clad legs, covered to mid-thigh and secured with garters. The skin just above her hose was bare. He drew in his breath. The olive sheen of her flesh glowed with a creamy fire that was in direct conflict with her prudish manner. His eyes roamed higher and took in her white silk panties, touched with just the barest hint of lace at the leg openings.
Recovering from her shock at the speed with which he had trapped and uncovered her, Edith began to struggle. The sight of her writhing buttocks delighted him. He could see the flesh tensing and relaxing, stretching her panties tightly over the expanse of her bottomglobes. His eyes were drawn to the dark indentation between the two pulsating cheeks. With his free hand he reached out and ran his forefinger down the tempting line, pushing the material into the crevice.
Edith had gasped with horror: "W-What do you think you are doing? Let m-me up this minute!"
"Oh, no, my dear," he had chuckled, "I've waited too long for this moment to let it pass."
Quickly suiting his actions to his words, Austin Black grasped one bottomcheek in his hand, molding it and caressing the silk-clad material and the warm flesh underneath. His hand moved below the lace border of the panties and skated over the naked flesh between panty and garter. His thumb slid between her two rounded thighs and caressed the tender inner flesh.
"Oh, what an inhuman beast you are! You've no right to do this. Let me up this instant!" Edith had shrieked.
In answer, he had pushed his exploring thumb upward, rubbing it into the crotch of her panties and delighting in the feel of the pussyflesh he knew was just beyond that wisp of material. He could make out the shape of the fleshy lips of her cunt, and in his excitement he rubbed faster and harder. Suddenly, he slipped his fingers through the leg opening and ran them over the firm cheeks of her ass. Slowly, savoring the conquest, he ran his finger over the dark opening of her anus, delighting in her squeal of shame. She tensed her buttocks, which momentarily trapped his finger in the tight prison of her asscheeks with its tip held against the puckered flower of her opening. "Ah, so you like this, do you, my little Edie? Feel how you have trapped my finger and are holding it within you as if you are desperate not to let it go."
"Ahhhggghhh, don't touch me! How could you think I want th-this ... th-this violation," she had spat. Despite her words, and though she was desperate to get away from his repulsive exploration, she couldn't counteract the instinctive clenching of her buttocks. His finger had pushed against her, working deeper into the tensed canal.
She had screamed and seemed to faint, unconsciously relaxing her muscles and allowing him freer access to the area she was trying so fiercely to protect. Her faint didn't last long though, and she renewed her struggle with a speed and violence that took her ravisher by surprise. Wrenching her body to the side, she pushed against him with all her might and broke free. Having regained her feet and her balance, she quickly put a desk between herself and her boss and, panting with fury and embarrassment, yanked her skirt down.
Recovering, Austin Black had glanced nervously around and then started to walk towards her. Instead of retreating as he would have expected, she dashed forward and struck him furiously across the face, indignantly exclaiming, "How dare you do a filthy thing like that to me, Mr. Black? I've never been so insulted in my life! I'm giving you my notice right now!" With that, she had walked out of the office, returning only to pick up her check several days later. She had steadfastly ignored his apologies and his promise that he would never give her further cause to be offended if only she remained. She had turned her face away as she blurted out that under no circumstances would she ever work for him again.
That had been five years ago. Since then, Austin W. Black had become judge of the Municipal Court of the town of Catayunga, which boasted about six thousand inhabitants, a newspaper known as the Catayunga News-Gazette, and two small, but quite modern, hotels.
One might wonder why two hotels would be built in this small and not overly attractive Southern town. The answer was that they provided accommodations for many out-of-town guests and visitors, people who came to visit Judge Austin W. Black at his home and also at the women's correctional and penal institution known as Welfare Island.
This institution got its name because it had been built on a small strip of land in the midst of a huge and stagnant creek. It was about thirty miles from Catayunga and located in a desolate area; there were no farms around it for a radius of at least ten miles. The creek formed a kind of moat, so deep that only the best swimmers could make it from the island to the bank of the creek. This in itself was an excellent recommendation for the construction of a penal institution.
Fortunately for the taxpayers of the vicinity, Welfare Island had cost them very little. There had been a curious edifice greatly resembling a medieval castle that had been built about twenty years before by an eccentric millionaire who had lived there along with a staff of servants, a lovely young wife, and two even more beautiful maidservants-or were they her companions? Strange rumors had floated to the inhabitants of the then-small hamlet of Catayunga, but nothing had really ever been done about investigating them, since the owner of the castle had kept savage dogs patrolling all around the outside of the building. He had also built tall metal fences eight feet high that circled the strip of land completely. Some five years after he had acquired the property and built his outlandish and unique edifice, he and his family had been killed in a plane crash over the Swiss Alps. After that the castle remained deserted. There were no heirs.
Accordingly, the property had reverted to the county, and Judge Austin W. Black had acquired it for a virtual song about four years ago, only to sell it back for a staggering profit when the legislature decided to build a new women's prison. The newly elected Judge Black had gone before the state legislature to argue that here was immediately available, with no expenditure necessary for building, a fortified castle stronger than any modern prison, protect ed all around by both the moat-like creek and a high fence. With the addition of security guards, the state would have a ready-made institution that would not only be escape-proof, but would have the further benefit of situating the female criminals and vagrants in a convenient place where they would not disturb decent people.
The Judge had ingeniously created a dummy corporation that made the state a low bid-but enough to guarantee him a staggering fortune-and the transaction had been completed.
The castle had the equivalent of six modern floors, an enormous cellar, and below that a substantial sub-cellar. Judge Black had spent a good deal of money over the past few years remodeling these two cellars into "recreation rooms," arenas with loges built all around them on a rising incline. There were also special experimental chambers, some with one-way glass mirrors in the wall, so that he and his friends could watch unobserved the sexual antics of the performers in the chamber.
He had also been instrumental in recommending that the legislature approve one Dr. Marjorie Sayers as Superintendent of Welfare Island. She was the ideal woman for the job, he argued. And because they were grateful for the money he had saved the state, the legislature approved this singular woman as head of the new prison. What they were unaware of was that the castle was being ingeniously and secretly altered into a kind of training school for future bond servants, slaves, and potential prostitutes intended for the many houses of the crime Syndicates throughout the country.
Judge Austin W. Black, undoubtedly venal and corrupt, was also a shrewd business man. As state's attorney, he had prosecuted a number of minor Syndicate hoodlums, and had come into contact with the higher echelon. When he had been appointed to the bench, he had sought out these powerful men and made a deal with them.
An attractive woman the Syndicate wanted could be apprehended for vagrancy in this county, brought before Judge Black, and sentenced to ninety days of brainwashing-basic training, they called it-in his correctional institution. When the ninety days were up, she would be released, not as a free woman, but as a subjugated hireling of the Syndicate. Or she would be bought on the auction block by wealthy men who paid a fortune to the corrupt Judge for the privilege of witnessing her debut in carnal servitude. It was as depraved and elaborate a slave system as had ever flourished in the days of the robber barons.
Thanks to his powerful alliance with the lords of vice and crime, Judge Austin W. Black had been able to trace Edith Garvin five years after she had walked out on him. She had apparently gone to New York City, worked for an insurance company there, and had become engaged to a schoolteacher in his late forties named Ben Rosen. When Judge Black had heard this news, he had worked out a scheme to bring her back and settle old scores. He had retained a private investigator to visit Edith Garvin in New York and inform her that she had become heir to a sizeable fortune, but that she would have to return to Chicago to claim it. The story was plausible and the documentation was convincing: Edith had had another second cousin, apart from the one she had visited in Arkansas, who had migrated to Australia about ten years ago. Supposedly, it was this cousin who had left her the inheritance.
Suspecting nothing, the beautiful secretary had boarded the train with the investigator. As soon as they arrived in Chicago, he had put her into a car, and that was all she remembered. Edith had been chloroformed and taken to a chartered plane, which in turn conveyed her and the investigator back to Catayunga, and from there to the mansion of Judge Austin W. Black.
Edith, upon awakening from the drug-induced coma, had found herself in a windowless soundproof room, Spartanly appointed with a hard, narrow cot, a little wooden footstool, and a straight-backed chair. Yoshio visited her twice a day to bring her food and water. He entered and left without a word, in spite of her heart-rending pleas to be told where she was and why this was being done to her.
A week had passed since Edith Garvin had been abducted and brought back to the house of her former employer. Tonight she was going to embark upon an adventure she could never have conjured up ... an adventure which was to begin the saga of Welfare Island and affect the lives of many in an almost unbelievable way!
CHAPTER TWO
Judge Austin W. Black left his luxuriously furnished dining room and went slowly down the hall to a guest room. The two-story house was on the western edge of the town of Catayunga, and until about five years ago it had belonged to a handsome brunette widow of thirty-six, Mrs. Lucille Delmar. Eugene Delmar had been an assistant in the state's attorney's office and an associate of Austin W. Black. He had received an inheritance from an aunt, and with this windfall had built the house as a tenth anniversary present for his attractive wife. Austin had long coveted Lucille Delmar, but she had been utterly chaste and there had been no way for him to fulfill his desire for her until the sudden death of her husband from pneumonia.
Already strong in his contacts with the underworld, and on the verge of becoming elected to the Municipal Court where he would have still greater power, the corrupt roue had invested several thousand dollars in bribes, notably with meek little Recorder of Deeds, Theodore Paxton. He had invited Paxton to his elegant apartment and seen to it that the timid little man had all the liquor he wished, and then a very lovely and eager girl to share his bed. The next morning, however, Paxton discovered that the girl-whom Judge Black falsely claimed was underage-had vanished, but that there were now a number of incriminating photographs showing him performing rather deviant acts which, if circulated, could utterly destroy his reputation. He had been hysterical with terror until Black had wheedlingly informed him that there was no need for worry so long as he did his duty by investigating the title of some property in question.
Theodore Paxton saw the light, the negatives were destroyed, and an envelope containing twenty-five hundred dollars was put into his pocket as he left Austin W. Black's office that next afternoon. On the following evening, the paunchy and already white-haired state's attorney paid a visit to Lucille Delmar to console her. He showed her a document that indicated that her husband had never held complete title to the house. Black claimed there had also been delinquent taxes which he, himself had paid, thus obtaining a clear title to the property. To be sure, he had no desire to evict so lovely and devoted a woman, and he intimated that if Lucille Delmar would accept the sincere homage and admiration he had always held for her, there would be no need for her to leave her home.
When she persisted in not knowing precisely what he meant, Austin W. Black had chuckled, taken her in his arms and kissed her on the neck, while his hands had gloatingly cupped her firm, widely-spaced round breasts, through the very becoming black garb of her mourning. Then she understood. She had told him, trembling with fury and revulsion, that she loathed him, and that her husband had personally detested him, and that she would rather beg her daily bread than accept a single favor from him on his disgusting terms.
She packed two suitcases, called a taxi, and went to the railroad station. A few months later, the News Gazette printed a small paragraph on the fifth page to the effect that Mrs. Eugene Delmar, still grief-stricken over her husband's untimely death, had decided to take a trip abroad to alleviate her sorrows. At that very moment, however, Lucille Delmar was in an elegant bordello in Buenos Aires. She had been taken there by members of the Syndicate in return for a handsome fee paid by the owner of the brothel, a portion of which fee found its way into the coffers of Austin W. Black.
Since Judge Black had taken over the ownership of the Delmar mansion, he had done some remodeling, notably in the basement, where he had constructed several singularly equipped soundproof rooms in which he could indulge his sadistic and erotic passions. One of these rooms was reserved this very night for Edith Garvin by way of celebrating her return after five eventful years ... eventful, so far as Judge Austin W. Black was concerned.
He opened the guestroom and smiled greedily. There, waiting for him on a low couch, sat a lovely eighteen-year-old girl of medium height, whose shimmering golden hair fell almost to her waist, and whose exquisite, poignant, round face might well have been a model for Botticelli. Her name was Martha Krankheit. She was an orphan, a runaway from a juvenile detention home in Missouri, who had been waylaid and then personally delivered to him as a kind of present from the district head of that state's Syndicate in return for past number of favors.
Martha Krankheit had not believed her situation could get any worse than it was when she had run away from the juvenile home. She hadn't trusted the matron of the place from the first time she had been brought before the woman and told how she would be expected to behave. She did not like the setup: The place was a virtual workhouse where the inmates could expect no reward for their labor except meager food allowances and bare cots to sleep on. Having been raised by her loving parents to be an independent girl, Martha thought she could live on her own and be self-sufficient now that they were gone. After all, she was eighteen years old and could surely learn skills enough to support herself. But when she had asked to be released the matron had just laughed. "You will do as you are told, little girl," the sadistic woman had jeered. "I've no doubt that you could make it by yourself in this world. But you have been placed in my control, and here you will stay. You will work hard and do anything I or my subordinates tell you to do. Or you will suffer." The matron had reached out a hand and caressed Martha's cheek, her grin suddenly setting in a straight line as she grabbed Martha's face and held it tight. The pain of that grip had brought tears to Martha's eyes, and she felt the first stirrings of fear. "You will stay-have no doubt about that. You have no recourse. My power is absolute. I can have you declared insane or a habitual petty criminal, and keep you here permanently if I so choose, so tread lightly."
The evil glint in the matron's eyes was more than enough to convince Martha that she meant what she said. Thinking it the best course, Martha had bowed her head and said meekly, "Yes, Ma'am."
Later that same night after falling into a fitful sleep, Martha had awakened disoriented. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw and, at the same time, felt the Matron's mouth on one of her breasts. Remaining still, too shocked to move, Martha stared down. Her nightgown had been untied and drawn aside, and the Matron was cupping a ripe breast in one hand while her tongue and lips were ravaging the other. The older woman had the very tip of Martha's nipple between her teeth and was gently biting it. Slowly she drew on it and used her lips once again to suck it deeply into the dark cavern of her mouth. To Martha's shock the nipple stiffened, a sensation she had never felt before that seemed to go so much deeper than the vicinity of the breast itself. The matron captured the stiff little peak in her teeth again and held it still while she used her tongue to flick it back and forth. Martha had finally gasped, "What do you think you are doing? Get out! leave me alone!" She had struggled, shoving against the insistent form above her.
The woman had only laughed. "I'm in no hurry, love. I'll get what I want from you soon enough, and then you'll pay dearly for this night." With that she had risen and left the room.
Martha shook with anger and fear as she pulled the thin nightgown over her taut breasts. That very night Martha had gathered her meager possessions and fled. It had been surprisingly easy to escape. The Matron obviously expected that fear of her, her only control over her young charges, made the use of guards and bars unnecessary.
The next morning Martha had answered an ad in the newspaper offering a small salary and board to a young woman wishing to accept a position as a housemaid. Not realizing that she had left one intolerable situation for an even worse one, Martha had gone to the listed address. After the barest pretense of an interview-a few questions designed to discover whether anyone would notice her absence if she disappeared-Martha had been tied up and delivered to the Judge.
Martha Krankheit had been in this house three months, and at first she had been furiously rebellious. On the very first night, the Judge had attempted to conquer her, but Martha Krankheit had instead trounced him, striking him repeatedly and denouncing him as a filthy old beast and flabby to boot.
He had touched a buzzer in the wall and a few moments later his Japanese valet had appeared. Martha had been stripped naked and tied up by the heels with ropes set in a ceiling pulley. Then Yoshio had tied her wrists to metal floor rings so that her arms were widely spread apart and her body tightly extended.
Judge Austin W. Black had leisurely stripped, and Yoshio had brought him a long velvet case in which reposed an ostrich plume and a thin, flexible cypress switch.
Armed with these two implements, Judge Black had proceeded to alternately switch and tickle her thighs and her succulent, lightly-downed virgin pussy until the unfortunate young woman found herself almost on the brink of orgasm. He had then resorted to the switch alone, flicking it continuously against her anus and her pussy, as well as the tender insides of her thighs and across her ample breasts, until at last poor Martha Krankheit had weepingly implored mercy and promised to do anything that he asked of her. He had had her released, and then commanded her to kneel and prove her good intentions. In this servile pose, naked as the day she was born, Martha had been forced to crawl to him, stopping between his outstretched legs. Following his directions, she had unzipped his pants and, with trembling fingers, pulled out his engorged cock. She didn't want to touch it, and her revulsion showed clearly on her face. Judge Black, infuriated by her hesitation, had grabbed her by the hair at the back of her head and pulled her to him. "Open your mouth, you bitch," he had growled, not giving her a chance to pull back. He had grabbed his stiff tool and aimed it at her parted lips. At the first contact of the warm head of his prick on her soft lips the Judge groaned, and a drop of pearly fluid moistened the mushroom cap. Pulled inexorably closer, Martha had no recourse but to part her trembling lips wider and allow passage of the unyielding flesh entering her mouth. Viciously the Judge had reared up and lodged his prick in the back of her throat. Gagging with the unwieldy mouthful, Martha tried to pull away, only to be stopped by the Judge's iron grip. "If you struggle or if-God forbid-you bite me, you little slut, I'll make you wish you'd never been born. Now take my prick in your delectable little mouth and suck."
Choking back her tears, Martha had moved her head down in his lap and encompassed his raging tool with her mouth. She tentatively closed her lips around the shaft and sucked. His answering groan was indication to her that she was doing as he wished. Hoping to save herself further flogging and tickling, the poor girl continued at her task, working on instinct alone.
Unable to breathe, she pulled her mouth away and drew fresh air into her lungs. Glancing up at his florid face, checking to see that his eyes were still closed, she had stolen a look at the object she was being forced to service. The tip was wet with her own saliva and even redder than it had been when she first uncovered it, twitching now with the blood that flowed through it. She thought uneasily that it was even bigger than when she had first felt it slide between her lips. Quickly, before he could use his hand to encourage her subservience, she flicked at the head with her tongue, encircling the tip and even probing the tight little slit at the end. She had drawn the length of his shaft into her mouth again and sucked hard, moving her head up and down, slurping as she drew on his cock. The movements of his hips, driving his cock deeper into her mouth and down her throat, were indication enough for even such an innocent that she was performing satisfactorily. She continued her ministrations, hoping to bring about an end to this hateful task. She sucked and sucked at his cock, moving her head up and down in time to his own thrusts, until he grabbed convulsively at the back of her head, holding her still with both hands in her hair. Out of control, he had pushed frantically at her face, burying his throbbing prick in its wet sanctuary. When the first jet of hot sperm exploded into her mouth, she had frantically squirmed in his tight grasp. The Judge, however, had anticipated this reaction and tightened his grip, holding her in place as successive spurts filled her mouth, leaving her choking and sputtering and even sneezing after some of it went up her nose. She'd been sure she was about to die of asphyxiation. From that day forth, Martha Krankheit had apparently been the most docile and obedient of slaves.
She now wore only a clinging black tunic with very narrow shoulder straps, which covered her from the middle of her bosom down to the tops of her thighs, and high-heeled sandals. At dinnertime, the Judge had instructed Yoshio to go to Martha's room and order her to don that costume and then hold herself in readiness until he chose to appear before her. During the lengthy time of that elegant repast, which he had not in the least hurried, the lovely golden-haired girl had been in a very great agony of anxiety and suspense, trying to analyze how she might have offended him, for she naturally believed that his summons was for the purpose of chastisement.
As soon as he entered, she sprang up and then hastened to him, sinking down on her knees and clasping her hands as if in prayer. It was a ritual acknowledgement of his sovereignty over her which he had taught her at the cost of a good flogging about a week after she had first entered his household. Her beautiful blue eyes were brimming with tears as she stared anxiously at his face, seeking to guess his mood and therefore gauge her own destiny. He smiled and patted her head: "I'm pleased with you today, Martha."
"Oh, thank you, Master!" she gasped, expertly making her lips tremble pitifully. She had a sweet voice, and could use its overtones of anguish and fear to titillate the Judge's ego.
"I have need of your services this evening, my dear. You're going to help me welcome back a dear friend, one who has been absent for about five years and who may take a little persuading until we can restore the happy degree of comradeship we once enjoyed." Judge Austin Black was excessively fond of pompous rhetoric, if only because it heightened his victim's anxiety by its irritating fatuity.
"Yes, Master," Martha Krankheit faltered.
"You may undress me, child. Let's see now ... bring me my orchid-colored silk bathrobe and my best sandals. Oh yes, and that spray bottle of cologne I use when I feel in a romantic mood ... you know the one."
Martha Krankheit could hardly forget that cloying scent; it had been the very one with which he had sprayed himself before undertaking her torture and violation that first night of her incarceration in this mansion. She bit her lips, nodding, "Yes, Master, at once. Shall I undress you first, or get the spray?"
"Undress me first, you stupid little bitch! Another question like that, Martha, and you may find yourself sharing my guest's entertainment. Now be quick about it!"
He smiled genially at her, but his cold gray blue eyes fixed greedily on her full breasts, then lowered to admire the pale white satin of her delightfully rounded thighs and her plump, exquisitely-muscled calves. He sighed. One of these days he would have to bestow a gift on Tony Rocco, the Syndicate runner from New Orleans who had bought quite a few of the "special" girls sentenced to Welfare Island. Tony expected a favor every now and then. Well, he would hate to part with this beauty, but the influence Tony had in bringing him the finest prices and the best customers for the merchandise at Welfare Island was much more important than a single girl. After all, there would be others.
Martha Krankheit efficiently and swiftly undressed him. She did so with downcast eyes, her long lashes fluttering as she tried to avert her gaze from his mocking stare. Her slim little fingers, so soft and gentle, removed his coat, shirt, and bow tie, undid his braces, and lowered his trousers and helped him step out of them. Then came the undershirt, after which she knelt to remove his shoes and socks. He smiled again, observing the order in which she was undressing him. She still had a touch of reticence to her; she kept his cock hidden until the last possible moment. It amused him to see this, when he knew the acts to which he had compelled her.
"Before you take off my shorts, Martha, suppose you unbutton them and take my cock out and kiss it fifty times. Just a little reminder of your position here, my girl. Of course, if you'd like to go back to that home, I believe the lady of the house would give a great deal to have you back. I had a letter from her just last week, you know." This was a lie, but the unfortunate girl could not know that. The threat made her shudder. She unbuttoned his shorts almost feverishly, reached in her trembling fingers, and took out his stiffening prick.
The Judge looked down with a smile that was almost paternal as her head bowed over his large organ. He was inordinately proud of his manhood at his age and always seized the opportunity to prove that virility. She began to kiss his cockhead while he counted aloud: "Ten ... eleven ... not so quickly, my dear, one would think you were hurrying to get it over with. I'm sure you don't feel that way, do you? Twelve ... that's a little better ... loudly, so I can hear your sweet kisses ... thirteen ... that's much better, Martha. You see what you can do when you really try?"
He felt himself throbbing with dynamic vitality tonight. He stared beyond the kneeling girl to the door. There was a look of impatience on his face as he thought of Edith Garvin. Yoshio must have already led her downstairs to the special room that had been furnished particularly in her honor. Or rather, he thought lewdly to himself, for her dishonor; and departed, still chuckling at his own wit.
CHAPTER THREE
The Japanese valet had prepared Edith Garvin for her ordeal. He had entered the room in which she had been incarcerated and secured a pair of silver handcuffs to her wrists. He had acted so swiftly that Edith barely had time to be surprised, let alone put up a defense. Moreover, resistance would have been useless, though she didn't know it, for Yoshio was skilled in both judo and karate. He had blindfolded her, and then, fixing a leather dog collar around her neck, had taken hold of the leash and peremptorily commanded her, "You will come quietly now, or I'll give you a good whipping!"
Appalled at what had happened to her, the blindfolded young woman had begun to stammer an agonized question, demanding to know why this was being done to her, why she had been abducted from New York, where she was now, what was to be done to her. But the Japanese valet had given her no reply whatsoever. Dragging on the leash, he had led her stumbling out of the room and guided her down the stairs. His left hand was at the scruff of her neck, and his right gripped her fettered wrists and guided her to the basement chamber where she was at last to be reunited with Judge Austin W. Black.
This chamber was extremely wide, with a low ceiling. Placed advantageously around its walls were several love seats, and a few tabourets and ottomans. In one corner there was an elaborate sideboard on which were placed decanters of liquor and wine. There was even a movie projection screen at one end of the spacious chamber, used at times by the Judge to stir his sexual appetite. He watched films which had been taken at Welfare Island or shot in this very house by his cooperative manservant. The movies were complete with soundtrack, and in a special room on the first floor just off his study library, there were metal cabinets containing hundreds of canisters of movie film, each meticulously labeled as to date and victim, and with a brief outline of what action could be enjoyed by watching the film. Many of these had been duplicated and given to members of the Syndicate, either for their own amusement or as documentation on some helpless female victim who was about to make her commercial debut.
In the center of this wide room was a pillory, solidly set into a rectangular platform about a foot high. But it was much shorter than the kind illustrated in history books dealing with the early colonies in New England, when it was the custom to flog errant citizens and then set them in the pillory or the stocks, to be mocked and taunted by the avid spectators. It was scarcely four feet high, which meant that victims whose neck and wrists were clamped in the yoke holes would have to bend over until their back was on an almost completely horizontal plane-and this, needless to say, would project their buttocks out for either the exploration of the executioner's fingers or for the lash!
Yoshio had fixed the beautiful woman in this pillory, removing the dog collar and the handcuffs, but leaving the blindfold in place. His eyes had glistened with lust as he had stepped back to contemplate the mouth-wateringly desirable victim. The round, firm globes of her behind excited his passions, even though she was still fully clothed.
Edith Garvin heard his receding footsteps and then the clang of the metal door which announced that she was alone in her suspense and terror. She began to sob helplessly, ineffectually trying to ease the constricting pressure of the yoke about her wrists and neck. Her back had already begun to ache because of the exaggerated stress of this bent-over pose.
She had been waiting there for nearly an hour when Judge Austin W. Black entered the chamber, clad only in a pale orchid-colored silk bathrobe and dainty leather sandals. He was accompanied by a golden-haired girl in an inadequate black tunic.
Edith Garvin uttered a stifled cry at the sound of their entrance. "Oh God, who is it? Oh please, please let me go! Why have you brought me here? Why have I been kept a prisoner all this time? In the name of mercy, will someone tell me?"
The clapped-out old lecher made a gesture to Martha Krankheit. She swiftly approached the panting, terrified captive and deftly grasped the hems of her modest brown cotton skirt and the chastely cut white nylon slip beneath it. She rucked the garments up over the victim's curvaceous hips. Making a snug roll of them, she then unfastened the two safety pins she had pinned to the bodice of her tunic, and secured Edith Garvin's garments so that they would not fall back down.
"Oh my God, what are you going to do to me? Who is it? In the name of mercy, I beg you! Who are you? Where am I? Why have I been brought here?" Edith Garvin wailed. She twisted her hips about, for the stress of her imprisonment was already beginning to prove an ordeal.
Judge Black's eyes were narrowed and burning with lust as he contemplated this scene. Edith Garvin was wearing white satin panties. Presented as she was, this final veil which hid her sexual charms from him was so stretched that it seemed to have become part of her very skin. It molded the full, fleshy hemispheres of her behind, and accentuated the ripe curves of her shuddering thighs by its contrast. The muscles of those luscious columns, and those of her delightfully curved calves, rippled and flexed under the gauzy nylon hose she wore.
Martha Krankheit watched her master anxiously for his slightest sign, for even though at this moment she was not the one incurring his disciplinary wrath, she knew very well that a single misadventure or mistake in executing his orders would condemn her to the same fate as this beautiful brown-haired captive in the pillory.
His prick was savagely swollen, thrusting out adamantly against the silk folds of the bathrobe. The sensation of being naked under the delicate, thin silk appealed to his hedonistic senses, sharpening his erotic imagination as well as his carnal lust. A patron of the arts, as he fancied himself, and a frequent (if somnolent) visitor to the local symphony, the Judge had once read that the composer Richard Wagner never wore anything but silk next to his body. He had quickly adopted that affectation as his own. It was indescribably exciting at this moment to feel his bare skin delicately caressed by the soft silk, to feel it brush against his straining cock, to feel himself virile and powerful, an artist, a veritable god-emperor. Edith would learn to understand this about him!
The silence in the strange room was broken only by the victim's sobs and gasps and by the Judge's quickened and heavy breathing. Martha Krankheit knelt beside him, her eyes fixed on Edith Garvin's jutting bottom. She was very pale and wide-eyed, but already, she had been thoroughly initiated into carnal servitude that at this moment she could only feel secretly grateful that the unknown female locked in the pillory before her was going to suffer, and not she herself. And at that moment, she was ready to do anything to add to the torment of the unfortunate Edith Garvin, if that meant that her own tender flesh would be spared.
The Judge glanced down at Martha Krankheit and he read all this on her pale, frightened face. He grinned, gloating. The power this double life had given him made him feel reborn, like a young man. Seated on the bench in his courtroom, seeing lovely girls and women brought before him on one charge or another, pompously chiding them for their transgressions and then, with a kind of mournful solicitude, sentencing them to Welfare Island "for their own good," provided him with the most exquisite secret delight. For he well knew that, in a few weeks, he would preside over them in another capacity, that of executioner, torturer, ravager. A true devotee of sadistic joys, he savored the pleasures of anticipation; when he stared down with a benign smile upon some helpless woman who stood before him in his courtroom, it seemed to him that he could envision her stripped of the dress she was wearing, kneeling naked at his feet, her hands clasped in prayer, her eyes brimming with tears, and her naked breasts heaving with sobs as she begged him for mercy. It delighted him to conjecture about the exact quality of her charms when she was finally naked and enslaved, to imagine how she would behave under the lash or when her thighs were forced apart and a male prick was gouging the tight channel of her cunt. He was, he thought, a real sophisticate.
From the pocket of his robe he took another Havana Panatela, lit it, and suavely took a long drag, savoring its rich aroma. Then he blew a cloud of smoke toward the pillory and waited. Edith Garvin was still brokenly begging to know the identity of her captor and what he intended to do to her. As the fumes of the strong cigar reached her nostrils, she gasped and coughed. "Ohh-oh my God-who is there? Oh, speak to me! This is unbearable-have pity on me! I've done nothing. I demand to know why I am here! Please-it hurts me like this-my back is hurting so! Oh my God, if you have any mercy in you, tell me who you are!"
For answer, he sent another cloud of smoke in her direction. His face was a mask of lustful anticipation, and his cock was aching with the savage joy he had promised it.
Again she began to cough and gasp as the strong fumes wafted to her flaring nostrils. "Ohh-ahhplease-pl-please-who is it? Who's there?"
He chuckled softly, a soft sound that made Edith Garvin freeze in terror. Her body stiffened, and he could see the muscles surging out along her thighs and calves through the sheer brown fabric of her stockings. He approached now, transferring the cigar to his left hand as he extended his pudgy right forefinger toward her jutting bottom. Holding his breath, he approached the crevice shaped out by the tightly-stretched panties and mimicked his actions of five years past.
"Ahhhhhh! Ohhhhh! My God, please don't!" Her voice was frantic and agonized as she tried to swerve her hips away from his fat, stubby finger.
"You disappoint me, my dear," he purred. "I thought your memory would be much better than this."
"That--that-that voice-ohhh my God-no, no, it can't be-" she gasped, trying to reject the sudden dread that descended over her mind.
"But it is, my dear. Now that's better. I'm glad you're beginning to remember. After our happy association in the past, it would grieve me to find that you didn't recognize me by now," Judge Black obsequiously declared.
"Mr. Black-oh my God-no, no, I can't believe it-where am I-oh my God, why have you done this?"
"It's Judge Black, now, my dear. And you disappoint me. When you were in my employ, weren't you aware of my legal abilities? Didn't you realize that I would go higher than the mere post of state's attorney, my dear?" he banteringly replied.
"But I don't understand-I came to Chicago and, oh ... then it was all your doing-" she gasped.
"All of it, yes, my dear. That should flatter you, my charming Edith. To think that I remembered your charms so well after these five long years that I could not do without them."
"But this is insane! You-you kid-kidnapped me-that's what you did! Oh my God, let me go. Please let me go!"
"Come now, Edith, can it be that you are still as foolish as you were when you worked for me? But I've had reports that you're actually engaged to be married. Now surely, in these past five years-let me see, that would make you about thirty years old, wouldn't it?-you must have learned something about a man's desires for a luscious body like yours. As a matter-of-fact, seeing you like this in such an immodest pose and so scantily clad, I feel even more strongly about your charms than I did when you were my secretary. Yes, it seems to me, truly, my dear Edith, that your bottom and your thighs have taken on an even more enticing plumpness. Surely you can't have gone these last five years without some romantic experience, not with tempting charms like these."
With this, he passed his right hand over the surging cheeks of Edith Garvin's jutting bottom, and the young woman uttered a piercing cry and violently twisted herself away from that ignoble touch. "Gracious!" he laughed. "You seem to be even more sensitive than you were before."
"You-you filthy old beast! You know perfectly well why I quit my job! You know that I wouldn't work for a man who had no more respect for a woman than that-to do what you did!"
"You mean this?" the Judge guilefully asked as again his right forefinger prodded the narrow crevice of Edith Garvin's rectal fissure, pressing the soft material of her panties into her tender crack.
"Ohhh! Stop that, you disgusting pig. How dare you! Oh my God, if you're a judge, then the people who voted for you cannot know how vile and contemptible you are. You'll go to jail for this, for kidnapping me and treating me this way! Do you hear me? I demand that you let me go at once!" Edith shrieked, as she jerked from side to side.
Judge Black cleared his throat with an oratorical flourish. "Let me set forth your present situation, my dear Miss Garvin. You were brought here to claim an inheritance, and the people who helped transport you here to my house are all in my employ. You will receive that inheritance, with ample interest, I assure you. As Judge of the Municipal Court, I have in my power to find you a vagrant and to sentence you to a correctional institution. No one can trace you here, and once you are imprisoned at Welfare Island, you will simply disappear from view. Even your fiance, this Rosen fellow-and I shall have a good deal more to ask you about him in a few moments, my dear-won't be able to track you down. So my advice to you, my dear Miss Garvin, is to resign yourself to reality and to try to be less hostile to my displays of affection for your charming person."
The flowery rhetoric so dear to Judge Black's heart was, he fancied, the mark of an artistic and imaginative sadist. But Edith, unlike the almost naked girl who knelt beside the fat, greasy old lecher, was hardly aware of this. Again trying frantically to swerve her hips and wrench her wrists and neck out of the yoke holes of the pillory, Edith cried out, "I haven't the least interest in your affection for me, you repulsive idiot! It was criminal of you to have me kidnapped and brought here, and you know that perfectly well! And you can't legally hold me here. You know that, too!"
"I can, my dear, and I certainly will. But this is no way for two old friends to behave after five long years." His voice became soft and unctuous. "There's so much I want to know about you, my dear Miss Garvin. Particularly, how much you have learned about men in the last five years. Now then, my investigators tell me that you are 'engaged to be married.' Has this fiance of yours seen you naked yet, or cuddled with you and put his hand under your skirt and felt your sweet little snatch?" The sudden transition from the gently solicitous words to crude obscenity struck Edith like the lash of a whip, and the Judge chuckled as he heard her horrified gasp. Then he resumed, "You must have learned something, my dear, or you wouldn't be shocked by that vulgar term for the dainty spot between those sweet thighs of yours. Martha, suppose we have a look at Miss Garvin's charms without the hindrance of those overly tight panties she's wearing. Be so kind as to drag them down as far as you can."
"Don't you dare! I forbid you to do that! You wicked, horrible old man! You have absolutely no right to treat me this way. I shall go to the police and complain, and then there'll be a real scandal! Oh, to think that a man who calls himself a judge should treat a decent woman like this!" Edith Garvin cried.
But Martha Krankheit, seeing the glitter in her master's eyes, had hastened to obey. She quickly fastened her fingers on the top of Edith Garvin's panties. The victim shrieked, twisted, and jerked herself in every way imaginable to try to avert the catastrophe, but the lovely golden-haired young woman tugged the waistband and shucked it down. Edith Garvin uttered shriek upon shriek and desperately tried to escape this outrage to her virginal modesty ... for indeed, even though there had been a lapse of five years and she was now thirty, she still retained her maidenhead.
"Quickly, Martha, unless you're eager to have your own naked bottom soundly flogged," the Judge drawled. His bushy white eyebrows arched, and Martha Krankheit's heart sank at that sign which she recognized only too well. With a gasp, and with all her strength, she dragged down the panties to the middle of Edith Garvin's stocking-sheathed thighs and then drew back, trembling and pale with her own terror.
The beautiful brown-haired captive uttered a prolonged cry as she felt herself denuded before the eyes of her former employer. To him she made the most piquant and lasciviously exciting of spectacles, bent over with her neck and wrists captured in the yoke holes of the low pillory, her fleshy, olive-sheened buttocks jutting out, and the white satin sheath of her underwear twisted about her lower thighs and acting as a fetter of restraint.
The cheeks of Edith Garvin's naked bottom were magnificently sensual. They were round and solid upstanding hemispheres, whose warm olive skin was flawlessly soft and satiny. Even though she tried frantically to clench her thighs and to diminish her nakedness as much as possible, Edith could not help exposing the amber-shadowy groove that separated those glories. Nor could she hide the dark brown thicket of pussy curls that hid the edibly-pink lips of her virgin cunt and flourished along the inhibited and sensitive furrow that led from her mount of Venus to the dainty rosette of her equally virgin asshole.
His prick was now gigantic with longing, but as a man in love with the idea of sexual coercion and subjugation, Judge Black controlled his impulse to possess her then and there. Stepping to her left and placing his left palm on the small of her naked back, he glided his right hand over the cringing, tightening globes of her naked bottom. He delectated over the smooth, warm skin, tactilely appraising the elasticity of the jouncy hillocks and tracing their contours from the lasciviously jutting curves of their summits to the provocative swell of the base of her bottom just as it left the harmonious juncture of her full womanly thighs. Adding to his enjoyment was the convulsive interplay of the muscles of her bottom and legs, while she dug her nails into her palms and again tried desperately to wrench herself free from the pillory.
"What a magnificent ass you've got, Edith, my dear," he said pleasantly. "I wonder if your fiance has ever felt you up. Tell me, my dear, have you and he been to bed yet?"
"Ohhh! My God, my God, take your filthy hand away from me! You disgusting, cowardly beast, I forbid you to touch me like that! I'm a decent girl, I'm going to be married, and he treats me with respect, I'll have you know! Oh stop it, stop it! You have no right to do this to me!" Edith Garvin was beside herself, and her voice was high-pitched and shrill with desperation as she twisted her bottom in a vain attempt to escape the sullying and lecherous caress of his pudgy hand.
"Can it be, from all these protestations, that you wish me to believe that you're still a virgin, my dear Miss Garvin?" he chuckled thickly. "I had thought that the excellent example I gave you five years ago might have turned you away from the ascetic life. You won't answer? Then I shall have to find out for myself, shan't I? Martha, stand there and hold Miss Garvin by the hips so that she won't twist around too much. And take care you hold her tightly, or I'll have you in one of those contraptions with your bare bottom stuck out for a good thrashing!"
Martha Krankheit did not need a second invitation; she hurried to the pillory, dug her slim, soft little fingers into the edges of Edith Garvin's olive-satin hips, and tensed herself. Judge Black chuckled again, and then slyly lowered his right forefinger and advanced it toward the thick cluster of dark pussy curls that shielded the succulent fig of Edith Garvin's exposed cunt.
The victim's body stiffened, and then a frenzied, hoarse shout burst from her: "Ahhhhh! Don't do that to me, you filthy brute-you dirty, horrible coward! Take your finger out of me right now and stick it up your own backside! No problem there-you can't have hemorrhoids, you're a perfect asshole!
For Judge Black's fingertip had pried through the thicket of silky pussy down, between the pink lips of that delicious cunt, and had penetrated up against the tight and resisting barrier of Edith Garvin's cherry! He had pressed in very hard, causing a twinge of pain; and in the midst of her shrieking protestations, the victim's voice had risen a full octave in pitch.
"I wouldn't have believed it, my dear," he said in a tone of feigned surprise, as he withdrew his finger and shook it at her waggishly. "Imagine that! At thirty still a virgin. This fiance of yours must really be very backward. You'll have to send him to me, my dear Miss Garvin, so that I can give him a good lecture on what to do to you in bed once you're married. But that will be quite a while off, you know. Well, well, well! I congratulate you, my dear, for preserving your chastity at all costs for all this time. Why, you're practically a spinster at thirty, Miss Garvin. Don't tell me that you have the old-fashioned and quaint notion of saving your maidenhead for your wedding night? Yes, I guess that must be it.
But I have first claim on it, you know."
"Ohhhh noooo! Oh dear God, help me, help me! Save me!" Edith Garvin shrieked to the impassive walls; but God's reply, if indeed there were one, was not evident to her.
CHAPTER FOUR
At about the same hour that Edith Garvin was experiencing her "reunion" with Judge Black, the personable young editor of the Catayunga News-Gazette was out with his best girl.
Jack Harkins was thirty-one, brown-haired, five feet eleven inches in height and sturdily built, with pheasant-blue eyes. Although he had a crisp, authoritative manner when he was behind the desk in his private office at the newspaper, he wasn't quite so sure of his words on this particular occasion. The girl he was with was Sally Dalby, who happened to be the society and entertainment critic for the newspaper. In one sense she was his employee, but in quite another, and especially after hours as now, she was his fiancee. Jack was trying to urge Sally to set the date for their wedding, and she was playing it coy.
Sally Dalby had fiery red hair whose burnished glow and thick cascade in a long pageboy to her shoulders had dazzled many an envious male. She had just turned twenty, and she had magnificent dark blue eyes, a dainty little nose with just the hint of an uptilt to it and widely flaring, sensuous nostrils. Perhaps of all her features, Jack liked best her wonderfully ripe, kissable mouth, for it was sweet and full and generous without the slightest nuance of haughtiness or snobbery. She had a very kissable dimple in her chin, which he had already saluted as they parked in his Buick out on the old road east of the water plant that supplied the electrical power for the town. There was a dry old creek there that hadn't had water in it for a good twenty years, because now the water was piped in underground from Cossett Lake a dozen miles to the northeast. All one could hear was the sound of crickets, and the soft breeze in the azaleas and rhododendrons that lined the bank of the old creek and still flourished as one of nature's paradoxes in the midst of seeming drought.
"Behave yourself, Jack," Sally murmured with a divine little blush. Her face was heart-shaped, her forehead high and rounded, and her cheeks full and satiny. He hadn't turned on the car lights, but he knew that her skin was creamy pale and that in the neat little rayon frock, which was modestly cut to just over her rounded, dimpled knees, he was sitting next to what was unquestionably the most voluptuously exciting body in all Catayunga.
Jack and Sally had had dinner at the Briardale, which was just about the town's best restaurant.
They'd had a private booth at the back where they could see all the patrons and yet be alone. Jack had held hands with her and then proposed this ride. She'd agreed, and teased him about wanting to take her out by the old creek. "You just want to have your way with me, that's all, Jack Harkins," she'd laughed.
"I haven't heard that expression since I used to read Thackeray," he had chuckled. "Besides, I'm going to do no such thing. I'll have you know I'm going to take you out there and propose."
"But we're already engaged, darling."
"I know that. But you've been putting me off about when it's going to be legal for me to kiss you and do lots of other things."
"Jack Harkins! People will hear us!" she had gasped, and again she had blushed adorably. The soft lighting of the restaurant had let him see that wonderful creamy skin of hers, and he had felt an ache in his penis at the thought of how much he wanted her and how soon he wanted the wedding night to be.
He controlled his lustful impulses, however, because Sally was a virgin, even though she was certainly not prudish about sex. Her parents had died when she was twelve, and an elderly aunt on her father's side had brought her up. Old Aunt Hester liked him, he knew that, and if she had taught Sally decorum and seen to it that her niece had gone on to State College, she hadn't let her own spinster state influence Sally's understandable desire to find the right man and settle down and be happy. She had even encouraged her niece to go to work on the paper, and Sally had impulsively decided, after one winter vacation, to abandon college after three years and make a full-time job of it. Jack suspected the decision was made partly because Aunt Hester was beginning to get old and was ailing and really missed her when her niece was away at school in Little Rock.
So for nearly the past year he'd had the pleasure of seeing Sally in the office every day and desiring her more and more, till finally he'd had the courage to date her. Then they discovered that they'd had things in common like literature, music, tennis and swimming, and just three months ago she'd agreed to be engaged to him.
Jack Harkins had been born in this little Arkansas town, and he'd gone on to journalism school at the University of Missouri and taken his degree there. Then he'd worked for a few years on a small weekly in that state, till finally he had come back to his hometown where elderly Mr. Jonathan Billingsley, the owner of the News-Gazette, had given him a job as reporter. Two years ago he was promoted him to the post of editor when old Ed Gurney had decided to bid adieu to a long and honorable newspaper career.
Jack's parents were dead too, and perhaps that was why he was drawn to Sally Dalby more than he would normally be just because she was a lovely and desirable girl. Somehow he'd had a hankering for the big cities, but because Catayunga was where he'd been born and where he'd been happy with his folks, he'd felt a kind of moral obligation to stay here and make a go of it. And now, of course, there was Sally-an even better reason for staying.
But there were some things that bothered Jack Harkins, and his first-rate newspaper training at the university had made him much more ambitious, and also more perceptive, than the average small-town newspaper man. For one thing, he wasn't too happy about the election of Judge Austin W. Black to the post of Municipal Court Judge. There were a lot of things he didn't like about the man, though he admitted to himself that it was probably personal bias. Austin W. Black's father had been successful in wildcatting oil in the fertile northeast section of the state, and had left his dissolute only son and heir nearly a million dollars. Black had gone on to get his law degree after his father's death, and to practice for a few years. Then he'd left Catayunga for about a decade-nobody quite knew where he'd gone-and when he returned, he began his campaign for the judgeship he now held. Out of nowhere, he got support, and Jack Harkins estimated that almost a hundred thousand dollars must have been spent on campaign literature, radio, and even television on behalf of Black's candidacy.
Nor had Jack Harkins been particularly fond of the deal Black had cooked up to create a correctional institution so close to Catayunga and to turn what might have been declared a historic landmark, and perhaps even a state tourist attraction, into a grim prison. Black had also been responsible for the appointment of Marjorie Sayers as superintendent of that prison. In the interviews Jack had conducted with the man after his successful election to the bench, the handsome young editor of the News Gazette had taken an instinctive dislike to the paunchy, white-haired, bombastic fellow, and some sixth sense had told Jack Harkins that Judge Austin W. Black wasn't the most honorable and honest man in the state.
Even now, with his arm around Sally Dalby's waist, and his prick aching with the sheer longing of wanting to taste her virginal sweetness and be her lover as well as her husband, Jack Harkins was thinking that if he could only prove his instinct about old Judge Black, what a scoop it would be for the News Gazette. It might even lead to the offer of a job from one of the big city papers in St. Louis, or New Orleans, or even Chicago.
There were other signs in Catayunga that Jack Harkins didn't like at all and which he had noticed becoming more prevalent in the last year or two. A great many well-dressed and obviously well-to-do men were stopping at the hotels and spending a few days. Yet, he'd heard that they weren't enjoying what simple entertainment the town could offer during the weekend. Mostly, they trooped out to Judge Black's palatial home, and there were even rumors that some of them had visited Welfare Island in the company of the Judge. Jack couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something very mysterious, and probably very wrong, with the entire setup.
"A penny, darling," Sally Dalby teased as she rubbed her dainty forefinger over the tip of his strong, Roman nose.
"I hope they're worth more than that, Sally. But the first thing I want to say to you is, when do we get married?"
"Oh you!" she laughed teasingly. She turned up her face to be kissed, and he cupped her cheeks and almost reverently took her lips. Her warm mouth made him shudder with implacable desire, but he had never really tried to be aggressive. There was another girl at the office, Claire Ralston, a svelte brunette of about twenty-six, who handled the display advertising of the paper and was a pretty good saleswoman. Jack was pretty sure he could have an affair if he wanted. But since Sally had said she'd be his girl and one day marry him, he hadn't done anything about Claire. She'd been on the paper about six months now, breezing into Catayunga one day to move into her older cousin's house after the latter's husband had shot himself upon discovering that he had incurable cancer. Claire Ralston had been born in St. Louis and had worked on one of the newspapers there after her graduation from college. She'd apparently inherited some money from her parents, for she had her own car and dressed more smartly than any other young woman in the town. He'd hired her with some misgivings, but during her first week she'd sold more advertising than her predecessor had in his best month.
"You're so serious tonight, lover," Sally Dalby teased again, kissing the tip of his nose. "What are you really thinking about, Jack?"
"If you want to know, and this is no reflection on your very tempting beauty, honey, I've been thinking about Judge Black. I'd like to know a lot more about him, and how many pies he's got his fingers into. I just don't like the guy."
"I can't say that I blame you for saying that, Jack. You know, I did a story about his contributing five thousand dollars to the United Charities last winter. He invited me out to his house and made a great fuss about me. I didn't feel at all comfortable."
"That's the first time you've ever told me that, honey. I thought you interviewed him at his office at the courthouse."
"Oh no. I didn't see any need to tell you about it, because a good newspaper reporter gets the story where it is, and he wanted me over there. But I can assure you I'd never go there again."
"Don't tell me he made a pass at you-that dirty old lecher!"
"Now don't get your blood in an uproar," Sally chided. "Of course he didn't. But the way he looked at me, well, it's a good thing I'm broad-minded. I don't mind it when you look at me like that, though."
"Darling," Jack Harkins almost groaned, as he held her very close and again took her lips. For a brief moment he wished that it was Claire Ralston beside him, because then he could probably plunge his hand under her skirt and put his other hand on one of those gorgeous, big, firm tits of hers and tell her what he really wanted.
What Jack Harkins didn't know was that Claire Ralston wanted him to do exactly that and was quite miffed at him for not having done it. And because of that feminine rancor, and because Claire Ralston knew that her boss was gaga over red-haired Sally Dalby, the lives of this trio as well as that of many others were to be singularly changed in a most dramatic and unforeseen manner....
CHAPTER FIVE
"I think, Martha my dear," Judge Austin W. Black drawled, "we'll have those panties all the way off. And at the same time, you may as well roll Edith's stockings down to her ankles. I want to see as much of that lovely, warm, olive skin of hers as I can."
"Oh, please don't! How can you be so cruel, so inhumane, Judge Black?" the beautiful brown-haired woman cried, as she twisted herself and contracted all the muscles in her ass to diminish as much as she could the exposure of her naked behind-a tempting oasis of sexual pleasure as yet untried!
Martha had no time for compassion for poor Edith; she was concerned for her own safety, and she knew that the slightest hesitation in carrying out any of her master's orders meant that she would take Edith's place, either in the pillory, or in another of the cruel devices placed in this room for his sadistic amusement.
She therefore tugged at the satiny garment and dragged it off Edith's legs, whereupon the victim began to kick out and twist herself as she tried to prevent this last ignominious ceremony. Next Martha grabbed the top of Edith Garvin's left stocking and dragged it quickly down, making a neat roll of it at the captive's chiseled, olive-sheened ankle. Then, evading the victim's frantic kicks, she did the same with the other stocking, until Edith Garvin found herself naked from waist to ankles, bent salaciously over the wooden pillory, and unable to see what was to be done to her.
"What a magnificent ass, my dear! And you mean to tell me that your fiance hasn't yet pinched or squeezed or goosed it like this?" Suiting action to word, Judge Black once again inserted his right forefinger into the shadowy crevice separating Edith Garvin's ripe, resilient buttocks, and pried open the dark ring of her dainty asshole, lodging his finger up to the knuckle and then wiggling it about.
"Oh dear God in Heaven stop that, stop that, in the name of human decency! You filthy, horrible, cowardly brute, to treat a helpless woman like this! Oh God, you're hurting m-me, please take it out, oh please take it out!" Edith shrieked, and the pillory creaked as she jerked and twisted about, heedless of the bruises which the yoke holes administered to her neck and wrists. But all these violent movements only served to further inflame the Judge's lusts, for he could see the ample, olive-sheened cheeks of her behind jiggle and flex and contract in the most convulsive spasms imaginable, all of which set into relief the sensual glory of her voluptuous, mature, and still virginal body.
"But what I really can't get over, my dear Miss Garvin," he continued, with a smirk lighting up his fat face, "is that your fiance has respected your cherry. I wonder, would he be so noble if he were here right now. On the other hand, perhaps he is the fastidious sort who would much rather have the work done for him in advance. That way he won't have the messy job of perforating your hymen, which at your advanced age of thirty must surely be very thick and resistant."
Edith Garvin was mortified at hearing her most intimate person discussed so callously, especially before an unknown female who was apparently aiding her cruel and vengeful ex-employer.
"Oh God, why are you doing this to me? I don't deserve such shame, such cruel treatment just because I did what any decent, self-respecting woman would have done in response to your reprehensible behavior five years ago!" she cried in despair.
"Let's say I'm a sentimental old fool, my dear," he smugly answered. Having withdrawn his finger from her asshole, he now began to caress the magnificently plump, firm, and velvety smooth cheeks of her squirming bottom, while the unfortunate young woman groaned and sobbed as she twisted hopelessly about, unable to evade his maddening touches.
"The fact is, ever since you stuck that luscious ass of yours in my face that memorable day, Miss Garvin, I've dreamed of nothing else but seeing it naked just like this and being able at long last to testify to my very earnest admiration for its tempting qualities.
Martha, my dear, I think a good spanking on Miss Garvin's deliciously gravid bottom will make her more docile. You will apply it, my dear, and I trust you will give it to her quite smartly. I should say that about thirty good swats will be ample preparation for what I have in mind. By then her bottom should be well heated so that I can heat her front."
"Oh no! For God's sake, how can you do this to me? How can you make that unfortunate girl help you torture and shame a helpless woman brought here against her will?" Edith cried.
But Martha Krankheit had already approached the half-naked captive in the pillory, braced her left palm against the small of Edith Garvin's naked, olive-sheened back, and, raising her right hand high over the condemned posterior, brought it down smartly with a noisy SMACK!
"Excellent, Martha! Excellent!" the Judge purred, his eyes devouring the bright pink outline of the young girl's palm, which was immediately imprinted on Edith Garvin's right buttock. "Give her twenty-nine more exactly like it, Martha, and you will have done me a service. And you may tell yourself, my dear Miss Garvin, while Martha spanks you, that if you had given me a little piece of tail five years ago, you would not now have your naked ass sticking out at me, nor would you be suffering so at the hand of a young woman whom I have rendered far more cooperative than you are. But perhaps with some training and a good session at the Island under the careful supervision of Marjorie Sayers, and the occasional physical examinations given by the prison's personal physician, Dr. Archibald Fenwick, you may yet turn out to make this fiance of yours an enjoyable bed warmer. You may proceed, Martha."
Stepping back and opening up his bathrobe so that it yawned to expose his hairy, paunchy, naked body and the gigantic thrust of this swollen prick, Judge Austin W. Black gazed with rapture on the scene before him. The young golden-haired servant, her eyes narrowed, her lips tight, assumed a severity worthy of a born executioner-an attitude evoked, needless to say, by her own dread of the man who was directing this insidious degradation of the other captive. Her hand rose and fell quickly but vigorously, for she did not need to be reminded that if her master found this spanking too benign, her own punishment would be nothing less than a sound whipping ... one administered by a far more painful instrument than a human hand!
Edith Garvin ground her teeth and closed her eyes, striving with all her might to remain impervious to this humiliating and juvenile correction. The knowledge that she was being spanked on her naked bottom by her former employer via a young lady was absolutely annihilating to her pride, exactly as the Judge had foreseen it would be. But never having endured the slightest corporal chastisement throughout her life, she began to soon feel the stinging discomfort of those repeated smacks, as they alternated on the jutting cheeks of her bottom and soon covered the entire area with the flaming outlines of Martha Krankheit's palm.
By the twentieth spank she had begun to groan and twist herself about, for the cumulative heat generated in her sensitive bottom had become acutely irksome. By the twenty-fifth she sobbed, "Oh my God, oh stop it! It's vile to make her do this to me-ohh, it hurts-ohh, stop it!" And when the last blow fell with all of Martha's panting might against the base of Edith's right buttock, the half-naked captive tried to lunge forward while swerving her inflamed buttocks as she emitted a raucous and wordless cry of pain and spiritual despair.
"Very ably done, my dear," Judge Black murmured as he fondled his stiffening tool. "The next time I have occasion to punish you, Martha, remind me how well you performed just now and I promise to remit five lashes from whatever count I sentence you to."
"Yes, Master, thank you Master," Martha replied, blushing with shame, as her own insecure status was once more brought home to her.
"Well now, my dear Miss Garvin," the Judge continued in his mocking drawl, "that should make you feel more welcome here, I should think. You have no idea how exciting you look with your naked ass stuck out this way, and nicely red, like a tomato. Now that I consider it carefully, I see a few patches of skin that Martha apparently neglected. That will have to remedied, I think. But since this is a memorable occasion, our reunion together after five desolate years during which I have missed your company, Miss Garvin, I am going to let you have the pleasure of choosing the next order of business in our little program. Now then, pay close attention. Which is it to be? A sound spanking with a leather sole, which will make your bottom quite red and, I fear, quite hot, or are you ready at this point to ask me to undertake the difficult task of making a woman out of you? In a word, in the event that your vocabulary has not been enriched over the past years, my dear, would you rather be spanked on your bare ass until you can't stand it any more, or will you beg me to fuck you and break that tight cherry of yours, which has kept you so modest all this time? You have two minutes in which to make your decision, my dear Miss Garvin. Meanwhile, in order to stimulate your mental processes in so important a choice, I myself am going to aid you a little."
With this, he opened the velvet-covered case in which he kept the egret's plume and the thin, flexible little switch with which he had accomplished the subjugation of his enchanting golden-haired assistant.
Taking the egret feather and moving to the front of the pillory, he squatted down, his eyes blazing at the sight of the thick, dark brown bush of pussy curls that covered Edith's virgin cunthole. Slowly, holding his breath, he lifted up the feather and began to tickle her inner thighs, while she gasped and jerked convulsively, taken by surprise at this exquisitely titillating sensation instead of the stinging fire of the lash as she had expected. He continued this for a moment or two, then put the plume against the thickest mass of lovecurls at the apex of her muscular, olive-sheened thighs and began to tickle her cunthole.
"Well, my dear, you've got a minute left, I'd say," he cajoled.
"Oooooh, it's-it's vile-oh my God, stop it-oh you beast, you dirty, filthy, despicable beast, to do this to a woman-oh God, help me-oh Ben-Ben, save me from this horrible old man!" Edith Garvin wailed as she backed away and twisted herself in a desperate attempt to evade the caresses of the egret's plume.
"So," he rose in high dudgeon, "you think I'm an old man, do you, Miss Garvin? And you'd rather have your fiance save you than have me teach you what it's like to be a woman, would you? Well, I shall make your decision for you, then. Martha, get me the leather sole. I am going to give your big ass a sound thrashing, Miss Garvin, and I am going to keep it up until you beg me of your own accord to fuck you-yes, my girl, fuck you and take your cherry. It's too bad that Ben couldn't have that privilege, but perhaps he'll be grateful to me in the long run for sparing him such a messy job. Now, if Dr. Archibald Fenwick were only here, he could do it for me. But you'll just have to put up with my implement, I'm afraid." He turned as his assistant brought him the slipper. "Thank you, Martha. Now, just to test the efficacy of this good leather sole, be good enough to bend over and hold your ankles and count five. Then you'll remind me the next time you're to be punished that I own you a remission of ten good spanks, you understand?"
Martha Krankheit had brought him a slipper with a black leather sole, murderously pliable and a good quarter of an inch thick. Grasping it by the heel, he waited until she had reluctantly-but obediently, all the same-bent over and grasped her slim ankles. This maneuver hoisted up the sheer black nylon tunic she wore well over her parabolically-curved bottomcheeks, and so he had the added stimulus of her unveiled and nubile loveliness to whet his carnal appetites, already grown ferocious through the exciting prelude with his major and most coveted victim, Edith Garvin.
"Don't move out of position, if you please, Martha. And count the spanks aloud," he instructed.
"Y-yes, M-master," the girl quavered. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth, relaxing her muscles and breathing deeply as she readied herself.
With cruel deliberation, Judge Black rested his left palm on the small of her back. He then moved from side to side until he was assured of the proper angle. At last he raised the sole over the magnificent young behind. He hovered it in the air while poor Martha waited in dire suspense, and then it flashed down like a bolt of lightning, to flatten with a wicked CRACK! over the top of the girl's left hip.
"Ohh-one. Master," Martha groaned, unable to suppress a convulsive twisting of her hips and bottomcheeks.
"You monster, you heartless fiend, to brutalize that helpless girl and to treat me this way too," Edith Garvin sobbed as, once more, she tried to wrest her neck and wrists out of the implacable hold of the pillory. The second blow of the slipper attacked Martha Krankheit's upper right buttock, and the third-after a pause of nearly a full minute that made the unfortunate young girl moan and squirm restlessly-was applied full across the fleshiest curves of both bottomglobes, compressing the shadowy crack between the huddling, quivering hemispheres.
The final two were applied respectively to the base of the right, and then the left cheek, and each was tremulously counted out by the tearful captive, who did not forget to thank her lecherous master for this privilege of "testing" the implement on her.
"I trust you heard all that, Miss Garvin," the judge declaimed, as he placed himself at Edith's left and brandished the sole, "because that is the way it is going to sound, only louder, on your own naked ass. You needn't count either. I'm going to spank your big, juicy, naked ass, Edith Garvin, until you beg me to fuck you. So, now you know what is expected of you. Let us see if your sensitive bottom will overcome your scruples about retaining your virginity. Of course," he continued thoughtfully, "your resistance really doesn't matter. If this doesn't break you, something else will.
"In other words, you cheat, you flabby old short stroke," Edith said bitterly. "This has nothing to do with whether or not I resist, or what you call my 'prudishness'." She spat the word at him. "You're just listening to your own voice run on and on, as usual, and you're going to do exactly what you please. And if it weren't for the fact that it'll hurt me, you know what your proposed plan would be?" Edith Garvin stared at the Judge intently for a moment. "Boring," she said decisively. "It would be stupid and boring!"
At this direct blow to the most sensitive part of his person-that is, his vanity-the Judge's face turned an alarming shade, and he roared, "Boring?! I'll show you boring, young lady!" So saying, he began to apply the sole in wickedly horizontal blows over the misused, squirming, already uncomfortably inflamed hemispheres of Edith Garvin's naked posterior. Beginning with the tops of her hips and working down to the , he methodically and thoroughly regaled each cheek in turn, with about fifteen seconds between each loud and crisply sonorous thwack!.
Edith's eyes opened, drowned by tears that broke in rivulets down her contorted cheeks. Her nails dug into her sweating palms; her body jerked fitfully at every noisy crack of the leather sole against her swollen, steadily darkening bottom.
But the thought of humiliating herself by her extorted complicity, assenting to her torturer's rape of her maidenhead in exchange for relief from this atrocious and humiliating thrashing, proved at first too tremendous a barrier to be overcome. She believed that she could hold out, and perhaps win by her courage his grudging respect for her chastity. It was a pitiably ingenuous notion, for the longer she resisted, the more her groans and sobs and uncontrollably spasmodic twistings, wrigglings, kickings, and dancings roused his mounting lust.
Finally, at the twenty-fifth stroke, which bridged both hemispheres and seemed to pinch the pouting edges of those luscious bottomglobes together, Edith Garvin could bear the torture no longer.
"Arrrgh!! Oh my God in heaven, you're killing me, you're killing me, I can't bear such pain! Have mercy on me, have mercy! Surely you've had revenge enough by now, whatever I've done!"
"Why, not at all, Miss Garvin. Are you ready yet to ask me to be fucked?" he countered.
"Oh no! I'd rather die-EEEOWWWOUUU!" At her words, he had viciously brought down the sole, and with a downward sweeping movement the pliable leather implement bit against the upper, outer edge of her right bottom globe. The pain had been excruciating, like a white-hot knife searing her over-sensitized flesh. Her wild shriek and prolonged wild cry attested to the dreadful torture she was undergoing, one which had been so ingenuously supplemented by her having first heard the punishment of his young and lovely assistant.
"I will give you another chance before I continue," he said hoarsely, as he briefly lowered the sole. "Ask me to fuck you, to ram my cock into your virgin cunt, to take your cherry, and I'll stop thrashing your bottom. Otherwise, I may have to see whether a good cane or a leather martinet will persuade you more quickly."
"Kill me! I'd rather die than give myself to you, do you understand? I won't, I-arrrhhhh!! Oh dear God, let me die instead of suffering like this! Oowwouuu! Aiiiil Eeeyarrhh! Oh stop-no more, oh God, I can't bear it! Yes, yes, anything, only stop!"
Pitilessly, his teeth grinding with sadistic rage and lust, the white-haired judge had dug the fingers of his left hand into her tender belly. Then, standing up close, he applied a barrage of ten or twelve short, vicious, downward-biting cracks of the leather sole, all against the tender crease of those jutting hemispheres. It was too much. The unfortunate young woman shrieked out frenziedly as her body lunged and twisted, but she could not escape the ferocious thrashing.
"You ask me to stop? Very well, you know the alternative. Do you submit then?"
"Oh God, oh help me, oh Ben, where are you?" Edith Garvin babbled.
Thwack-thwack-thwack! Thrice the leather sole crashed against her naked bottom. Moving slightly backward, Judge Black had lowered the flexible leather implement and swept it up with all his might against the base of her bottom and into the shadowy groove itself. The pain was severe, and Edith Garvin relented at last, lunging and twisting, jerking her neck and wrists and rolling her eyes for effect, as she finally cried out: "Oh, bloody hell, all right then! No more!" When the Judge nevertheless went on with the beating, she added, in exasperation, "Yes, yes, oh, do it to me! Fuck me, fuck me! Anything except this dreadful whipping! Oh my God, I'm begging you to fuck me. In fact, I'll die if you don't fuck me right now. Right now, dammit-aren't you listening? Fuck me-oh dear God-oh Ben, forgive me, I can't help it any more-ooh baby, ooh baby, fuck me, Judge Black, fuck me now!"
The Judge dropped the leather slipper to the floor with a hoarse wheeze of greedy anticipation. At last, the moment had come for his supreme revenge!
CHAPTER SIX
Judge Austin W. Black rubbed his hands gleefully as he heard Edith Garvin's despairing supplications to be spared further abuse with the leather sole. "Now you're being really intelligent, Edith dear," he chuckled, as he proceeded to unlock the wooden pillory and take the petite, half-naked young woman in his arms while she sobbingly collapsed against him. "Let me slip off your blindfold because I want you to see what's going to happen to you, Edie baby." He chuckled. "So those virginal lips of yours have finally pronounced the word 'fuck.' You've made a great step forward in five years, but now I'm going to show you what the word really means. Let's see now, where shall we have your nuptial bed, hm?"
There was a low couch against the wall, to his left and the Judge said to Martha Krankheit, "Martha, help Edie slip off the rest of her clothes. I want her stark naked. And as fast as possible, or else!
"Yes, M-Master," the golden-haired slave expertly quavered. Gently, for now she could afford to show compassion for her fellow captive, the girl opened the safety pins that held Edith Garvin's skirt and slip up about her waist, and drew the garments over her head. Edith allowed this, overcome by a vexatious fit of tears in her supreme humiliation. She still wore spectacles, which gave her near-nudity a most exciting flavor in the Judge's eyes. Martha now removed Edith's brassiere, and then knelt down and slipped off the stockings she had rolled down earlier until Edith Garvin stood divinely naked.
The corrupt old lecher caught his breath in undisguised admiration at the sight of her beautiful breasts, her nipples broad as the whale-shouldering sea. They were firm and resilient, looking marvelously utilitarian in spite of Edith's as-yet-childless status.
"Marvelous, really marvelous, Edie," he breathed.
"Edith," she snapped back at him.
He thoughtfully put a finger on his lips, and then continued on serenely: "Martha, suppose you undo that tacky chignon of Edie's and let her hair down. It was passable if uninspired with the skirt and blouse ensemble, but it's entirely the wrong coiffure for her current look."
Martha swiftly obeyed. Edith tried to put a hand back to prevent this, but even that simple movement made a new wave of hot torment seethe through her bottom. She at once rushed both hands back to those succulent hemispheres and began to rub them energetically, heedless of the nakedness and vulnerability of her loins before this man whom she had every reason in the world to fear and loathe.
The Judge now let his bathrobe slip to the floor and was naked in his sandals. His prick was enormously stiff and throbbing, and it was all he could do to contain himself.
"What a shame," he said with mock solicitude. "Your ass hurts you a little, doesn't it, Edie? Never mind, you'll find it will make a new woman of you once you feel yourself getting fucked. That's true, isn't it, Martha? When a girl's ass has been thoroughly thrashed, she's so hot and squirmy that she wriggles when she feels a man's cock inside her cunt. Martha, tell Edie right now how true that is, from you own experience," he cackled.
A violent blush suffused Martha's pale cheeks, and she could not help clenching her fists. She shot Edith a significant look, then demurely said, "Oh yes, what the master says is true. Whenever he-he-whips me-I always feel much more passionate."
"Charmingly put, Martha. Don't you think so, Edie? Go ahead, Martha, help her to the couch and put a cushion under her ass. It'll ease the pain, and then I'll take over and make her forget it entirely!" He chuckled, in rare good humor now that his plan had come to complete fruition.
Martha, in the short diaphanous tunic, helped the still-sobbing captive over to the couch, pulled one of the cushions out to the middle and patted it. "There you are," she said with a wan smile, doing her best to keep this unfortunate woman from feeling rancor toward her. She longed to tell Edith Garvin that she hadn't wanted to give her that shameful spanking, that had been forced to because otherwise she herself would have been in terrible danger. Of course, she would have been exposing herself to the same danger if she had dared express her thoughts, and so she wisely kept silent.
Very reluctantly, wincing and groaning, Edith slowly seated herself on the cushion, and then closed her eyes as a violent shudder passed through her naked body. Her chaste shyness suddenly came back to her, and she put an arm around her heaving titties and pressed her other hand over the furry thicket of her virgin cunthole. Then she bowed her head and burst into hysterical sobs.
"Now don't start that again, Edie," the Judge said thickly as he approached the couch, his prick bobbing with every step. "Just in case you have ideas about going back on your bargain, I've brought along the leather sole, and Martha here will hold you down while I really give it to your tender ass if you don't get ready now for your fucking."
"Yes," his voice grew hoarse with gloating delight, "for five years I've wanted to see you like this, Edith Garvin naked, on the couch, with your legs spread and your cunt ready to be fucked. Do you understand me, my girl? And now the moment is here. Will you stop that crying?" He tightened his lips and lifted up the leather sole, delivering a cruel blow across the top of her left thigh. Edith screamed and grabbed for the wounded spot, lifting her head and staring at him with agonized eyes behind her thick spectacles. "Now will you be a good girl and get ready for your fucking, or do you want some more?"
"Oh no, no, please no!" Edith groaned. "Oh, p-p-please tell me what to do-I can't stand any more pain, I just can't!"
"Now that's being sensible, my dear. I'll tell you what to do. Lie back now ... that's it! Now lift up your legs in the air. Martha, kneel behind Edie and help her as I tell you to. Good. Now then, Edie, grab hold of the backs of your knees and pull them tight against your tits. That's the girl! Martha, reach out and hold her calves so she doesn't lose that delightfully inviting pose of hers!"
It was true: never had Edith Garvin been more clinically exposed than at this moment when, stark naked, her buttocks upturned, her knees drawn back against her breasts, she displayed to the eyes of her ravisher the furry nest of her virgin cunt. The presumably pink lips could not quite be seen in the exaggerated and lascivious straddle of her beautifully rounded bare legs, but the tableau was made even more exciting because the golden-haired helper, kneeling behind Edith's head, was leaning forward to grasp the young woman's calves tightly and expose that virgin slit. On Martha's own exquisitely lovely face there was the shadow of her fear of and anger at this white-haired man whose power reached even beyond the state line.
"Now then, Edie, I'm going to make a woman of you. I'm going to put my prick into that sweet little slit of yours, and I warn you, it may hurt at first till I break that stubborn cherry of yours. That's why Martha's going to hold you in position, so you won't wiggle too much and make me slip out of you before the job's done. And you'd better not try anything, my girl, or back you'll go into that pillory, and this time I'll use the leather sole on those big titties of yours, and on the insides of your bare legs where it'll hurt the most, believe me! Or I might even give you a switch instead of a cock right up this dear little cherry spot of yours. You mean to tell me that Ben has never even seen this sweet little cunny? He poked playfully at her pussy with his forefinger.
Edith burst into heartrending sobs as she moaned, "Oh Judge, I can't stand this. Do it and finish it for the love of heaven! What more do you want of me? I can't stand any more torture. Do it to me, but at least end it and be merciful!"
"Who would have thought that chaste Miss Edith Garvin, glasses and all, would be lying stark naked with her knees pulled up against her titties and her cunt spread open, and her dainty little brown hole too, begging to be fucked by the man whose face she had slapped just because he goosed her five years ago?" the Judge gloated as he licked his lips. Crouching now and putting his hands on the wide couch to either side of Edith's shuddering body, he edged himself forward until the stiff head of his prong made contact with the furry fronds covering her exquisite pink cleft. "Pull those knees of hers back just a bit more, Martha," he instructed. Edith uttered a sobbing groan as she felt her titties mashed by her own knees, and at the same time felt the presentation of her loins and buttocks to the rampant cock of her former employer.
Then she uttered a horrified gasp, her eyes bulging behind the thick spectacles. His prickhead had edged between the outer lips of her cunt, and she squirmed uneasily as he pushed forward. Suddenly her body stiffened. His spear point was up against the tough hymenal seal of the maidenhead which still denied his access to her hitherto unprofaned vagina.
"It's going to take a little work to plow through this defense of yours, Edie," he gloatingly informed the weeping young woman. "Martha, wriggle yourself over Edie's face until your pussy is right over her mouth. Now then, Edie, to take your mind off what's happening, you're going to suck and kiss and tongue Martha's sweet little pussy."
Oh no! In mercy's name, don't make me do a thing like that! Oh please don't! I-I'm ready-I'm ready for my-I'm ready-but don't make me help you humiliate this poor innocent girl!" Edith protested, weeping.
"Innocent!" the Judge sneered. "This little bitch could earn her keep in a whorehouse after all she's learned under my expert tutelage. Isn't that so, Martha?" His narrowed eyes told the golden-haired girl that complete acquiescence to his will was her only safe course. She understood this, and quickly said, "Oh yes, that's true, I do my best to please my master! The best thing for a girl to do is to make Judge Black happy with her. Miss Garvin!"
"There, you see, Edie?" he purred sadistically. "Now then," his voice grew harsh and inflexible, "start licking Martha's cunt if you know what's good for you!"
Out of a sudden anguished compassion, indiscreet and dangerous, but certainly pardonable, the young slave-girl hastily whispered to the victim over whose tear-stained face she crouched, "You have to do it, Miss Garvin, please! I-I want you to! He-he'll really whip you awfully bad unless you do everything he wants. I know!"
Judge Black pretended not to hear this, but he made a mental note to "reward" Martha for it later, though in fact he was not altogether displeased. "Get ready, Edie," he said. "I'm going to break through this cherry of yours if it takes all night!"
Martha at once tightened her hold on Edith's muscular calves, lowering herself till her own blond pussy curls rubbed against the woman's shrinking mouth. Edith couldn't believe what was happening to her as Martha's pussy hovered over her face. She could see the thick outer lips covered with curly blond hairs separate as the girl parted her legs and straddled her head. The deeper red interior of the girl's cunt seemed to shine with moisture from the deep canal. A sharp, musky odor assaulted Edith's nostrils as Martha used her own slim fingers to pull apart the outer lips, exposing even more of the tantalizing inner flesh.
"Hurry up," grunted the Judge, not wanting Edith to have time to acclimate herself to the task she was being forced to perform-a task so foreign to her reserved personality.
With a start, Martha squatted suddenly, covering Edith's mouth before the stunned woman had a chance to protest.
"Ah, that's better," the Judge chuckled, "but I don't think Edith's quite got the knack yet. Am I going to have to teach you everything, my dear? Stick out your tongue now, Edie, and move it around on dear little Martha's cunt. That ought to get you started."
Her sobs muffled by the girl flesh covering her mouth, Edith tentatively extended her tongue, quickly recoiling at the odd sensation of slick flesh on her tonguetip. She could feel the Judge's fingers digging into her thighs, and she opened her mouth again before he could realize that she wasn't doing as he had ordered. This time, a little more accustomed to the taste and the odd sensation, Edith extended her tongue and ran it all over what she could reach of the pussy poised above her. Martha, deciding she might as well get as much enjoyment out of the situation as she could, moved her torso up and down, sliding her cunt over Edith's rigid tongue.
Edith, warming to the task and eager to take her mind off her ex-employer who, she knew, was staring at her own exposed pussy, sucked and licked at Martha's cunt as it moved above her. She quickly realized that Martha was, with greater frequency, grinding the small nub of flesh at the top of her slit against her tongue, encouraging her to explore that rigid flesh in the midst of all the soft tissue around it.
Obligingly, Edith opened her lips and sucked Martha's clitoris into her mouth. Martha's groan of pleasure told Edith that her efforts were appreciated, and she attacked the tiny organ with more intensity. Suspecting that such concentrated effort might be too much for the girl above her, Edith let go of the little sentinel and plunged her tongue deep into the cunthole. She lapped at the hole and then caught one of the labia majora between her own slippery lips and sucked on it. The squeals of delight she could hear despite the firm thighs covering her ears pleased her. Realizing that her hands were free, she brought them up to cup the younger girl's buttocks, kneading the firm hemispheres in her hands even as the Judge passed his gnarled hands over her own bottomglobes. Feeling that this way at least someone was having pleasure, Edith moved her hands hesitantly toward the girl's cunt, feeling her own cunt being attacked by those other, male hands. As she slid her fingers over the slick flesh, seeking out the tiny nub that had seemed to be the center of pleasure for Martha, the Judge's fingers sought out her own clitoris, causing Edith to gasp. She still didn't know the name of that fleshy nubbin, but she was beginning to understand the pleasure it could bring her.
As the Judge continued to explore her exposed cunt, Edith once again sucked the miniature girl erection into her mouth. She sucked deeply, at the same time flicking the tip inside her mouth with her tongue. Feeling that some crisis was about to happen, she plunged three fingers of one hand deep into the girl's cunt. Martha's reaction was immediate; grinding herself furiously against Edith's mouth and grasping the delving fingers with her cunt muscles, Martha screamed her pleasure and rocked mindlessly on the prostrate virgin's face.
Violently excited by the tableaux being played out before him, and feeling the first slick moisture of Edith's excitement, Judge Black grabbed his turgid prick and positioned it at Edith's soon-to-be opened cunt.
Then, with a grunt, Judge Black thrust himself violently against the resistant barrier to his rutting bliss, and Edith Garvin uttered a strangled scream that was muffled as Martha desperately ground her cunt against the young woman's mouth, while at the same time pulling Edith's calves toward her so as to keep her open for the sacrificial spear of destiny that would at once transform her and rob her of her cherished virginity.
Setting his teeth, the Judge drew back a little, and then lunged forward with all his strength. There was a piercing shriek and Edith Garvin's body jerked and twisted on the pillow; her face moved from side to side, her mouth rubbing against Martha's cunt. It was a wordless cry which expressed an eon of torment and despair, and the hopeless realization of the supreme disaster that could befall a chaste virgin. For the savage brunt of his thrust had broken through Edith's hymen, and Judge Austin W. Black was lodged to his balls inside her tight and quaking cunthole!
Edith barely had time to get over the pain of the brutal entry and the shocking feeling of fullness before the Judge began to thrust slowly in and out of her aching cunt. With so much going on, Edith hardly noticed the climactic convulsions of Martha, still poised over her gaping mouth. She didn't notice when Martha let go of her calves, a restraint no longer needed since the Judge was now holding her bent knees as he plowed himself deeper into her with every forward thrust. Concentrating on the never-before-experienced sensation of a male organ entrenched within her newly opened pussy, Edith barely noticed when Martha left her come-drenched face. The satiated girl stood next to the couch, confused as to what her role was to be now.
Her view unobstructed, Edith was forced to see what was being done to her. She gasped as she watched the ivory shaft of the Judge's cock pistoning in and out of the opening it had seemingly created.
Noticing Edith's interest in her own ravishment, the Judge pulled his rampant prick all the way out of his former secretary's cunt and let her look at it.
Edith's gaze took in the flared head of Judge Black's cock, streaked with her own blood; she looked at the thick column of hard flesh that had so recently been inside her, dropped her eyes to his hair-covered sac swinging pendulously between his legs-and her own. While she watched, the Judge grasped his weapon and rubbed the tip of his cock against her rigid clitoris. Edith gasped, realizing that this was her own version of the protrusion that had brought so much pleasure to the Judge's beautiful assistant. Pleased with Edith's intense reaction despite her newly initiated status, the Judge made a great show of aiming his staff once again towards his captive's cunthole and slowly, inexorably penetrating her once again. Edith could hardly believe her eyes as she watched the length of the Judge's tool disappear within her. He pushed down on her bent knees, lifting her cunt up and applying even more pressure against his straining cock. He groaned, thrusting faster and faster, ramming himself into the woman who had so stupidly denied him all those years ago.
Martha looked down on the fucking couple, and her heart went out to the poor woman who was experiencing sex for the first time right before her eyes-experiencing it much the same way as she had that memorable first time-at the hands and cock of her cruel taskmaster. Glancing quickly over at the sadistic Judge and noticing that his eyes were closed, Martha reached out and began to fondle Edith's breasts, which were jiggling in rhythm with the Judge's thrusts. Noticing the perky nipples stiffening in appreciation of this soft touch, Martha brought her other hand into play, running it over the woman's stomach and tickling the curly hairs at the apex of her cunt. Edith's eyes locked onto the adoring gaze of her new friend, and she smiled, silently thanking the girl for her ministrations.
Martha smiled in return. She was taking an enormous risk, but Edith had shown her more pleasure than she had experienced since being taken and held prisoner in this house. She only hoped that she could bring this woman to climax before the Judge spurted into her and realized what was going on under his own sweating body. Martha's slim fingers worked past the curly hairs and twirled around Edith's love button. She quickly flicked the upstanding flesh back and forth, trying to communicate to Edith with her eyes and her caressing hands that she should try to get some pleasure out of the ordeal.
Edith didn't need much encouragement. After years of self-denial and pure thoughts, she felt the crisis overtaking her almost immediately. She gave herself up to the combined stimulation of the Judge's viciously thrusting cock and Martha's gentle caresses, and almost shouted with joy as her body was racked with great shuddering tremors. Her cunt muscles contracted, squeezing the Judge's cock and coaxing the sperm out of his prickhead and into the undefended depths of her own trembling body.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Good afternoon, Dr. Sayers," Dr. Archibald Fenwick ingratiatingly declared. "I've just examined your little rebel, and in my opinion she can easily take a sound thrashing for trying to escape."
"Thank you, Dr. Fenwick," the superintendent of Welfare Island coldly answered. She rose slowly from her desk, smoothed her black satin skirt, brushed an imaginary bit of lint off of her short-sleeved white silk blouse, and then turned back to the medical examiner's desk to pick up a manila dossier.
Dr. Marjorie Sayers was thirty-seven, about five feet, seven and a half inches tall, slim and supple, with coppery red hair cut in a mannishly short bob. Her face was a disdainful oval, with a high forehead, very thin penciled brows, an aquiline nose, and a thin mouth. The sharp angularity of her cheekbones and the aggressive firmness of her chin suggested an imperious temperament. Her skin was tawny, and her body was extremely provocative-but so far as any lusting male was concerned, that voluptuous body was off-limits. For Dr. Marjorie Sayers thoroughly despised men; and yet, paradoxically, she had little more use for women, except to serve her often furiously sensual needs.
She had good foundation for her curious hostility to men-she'd met some-and, indeed, Judge Austin W. Black had proposed her as the superintendent of this prison for those very reasons.
He had seen in her an ideal foil and instrument which he could use to help supply his Syndicate contacts with desirable females for their brothels, and also procure for himself a smorgasbord of lubricious pleasures, since her disciplinary methods coincided with his own bent.
Marjorie Sayers had earned her titles, not in medicine, but in, curiously enough, English Literature. She had been a brilliant and precocious student and had been graduated from high school at the incredibly young age of thirteen. Her mother and father had been quite mature, in their early forties, when they had become parents, and they had not even expected to be blessed with offspring. Unfortunately, Marjorie's mother had died in childbirth, and this had so saddened her father that, hating the innocent cause of that bereavement, he had hired an excellent governess for the child and firmly resolved to have no affection for her. He had been quite wealthy, an importer of art and antiques, and had established a sizeable trust fund for his baby daughter that assuaged his guilt over the affection he failed to provide.
Marjorie Sayers had grown up sheltered and isolated, and aware almost from the very start that her father had no love for her. She had turned to books as her refuge, and had so avidly pursued her studies that she actually entered college at the age of fourteen, taking her bachelor's degree when she was not quite eighteen. By then her father had died, but the money he had left in trust for her had been dissipated by the executor's speculative gambling in the stock market. The elderly attorney, who had been her father's best friend, and who had been entrusted with the task of caring for the estate until the child could come of age, had been dissolute and lustful, and had needed money for his pleasures. He had gambled with the girl's estate just as he had with his own funds, and finally had committed suicide when he realized that he had not only bankrupted himself, but practically exhausted Marjorie's trust fund as well.
So Marjorie had resigned herself to earning a livelihood in an academic career, except that just as she began studies for her master's degree, she had fallen in love, marrying shortly thereafter. Her husband was Gordon Sayers, a sophisticated, handsome young man of twenty-three who was the playboy heir to his father's industrial chemicals manufacturing plant near Newark, New Jersey. Because she had been alone all of her life, she was not prepared for the magnetic charm of the young heir. He, conversely, was smitten with lust for this slim, red-haired young woman whose intellect was so far advanced, and yet who was so unworldly. It was an easy conquest, because Marjorie was just entering the full flower of her youth and experiencing, as any healthy young girl would, the first pangs of physical desire.
Their honeymoon and early married life were idyllic. Gordon Sayers took his lovely bride to Majorca on their honeymoon, and then to the French Riviera. While there, and without her knowledge, he spent a torrid afternoon with a beautiful French starlet. It was to be the first of many philandering escapades. His beautiful young wife remained totally ignorant of his betrayals until one day six years ago when she had caught him with his own private secretary.
Three years before the ultimate breakup of the marriage, Gordon Sayers had decided to open a branch of his father's factory in the South. He chose a site not far from Little Rock. Marjorie went with him, but she was already aware that her husband's physical desire for her had waned, and her quick mind led her to believe that he was frequenting the beds of other women, which of course he was. Upon obtaining her doctorate, she decided to distract herself by accepting a post as a private tutoress to a wealthy young girl who was preparing for college.
This post led to her first lesbian experience. Her pupil, Maxine Cantrell, a vapid sandy-haired girl of eighteen who was quite self-centered and spoiled, and who, adopting the attitudes of her nouveau-riche parents and their friends, viewed anyone less fortunate than herself as a menial. She treated Marjorie Sayers that way, until one day the woman angrily remonstrated with her charge and told her that what she really needed was a sound spanking. Maxine Cantrell had laughed in Marjorie Sayers' face and defied her.
The upshot was that the agile and exasperated tutoress had promptly flung the astounded young blonde across her lap, despite her frantic threats and curses. She proceeded to inflict a sharp spanking with an ivory-backed brush that happened to be at hand.
The physical pain came as a kind of purge to the young girl and, after the correction, she had flung herself into Marjorie's arms and tearfully expressed her apologies for having defied her. The beautiful young girl had clutched Marjorie and sobbed as if her heart would break. Her apologies were so heartfelt that Marjorie found herself comforting the girl, smoothing her hair back from her tear-streaked face, rubbing her back and hugging her close to her own body. Marjorie, having been denied what had formerly been a fulfilling sexual relationship with her husband, found Maxine's body ripe and voluptuously exciting.
The slim blonde pressed herself even closer against her beautiful instructress and buried her face in the crook of Marjorie's neck. She turned her head up, brushing her face against Marjorie's cheek. "I feel so funny, lightheaded, I guess, from the pain. You really did hurt me, you know. I think you should make it up to me now."
Marjorie had been startled; she didn't know when the roles had become reversed, but seemingly they had. She thrilled at the touch of Maxine's cheek against her own. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, but it was for your own good. What, pray tell, would you like in recompense for the discomfort you have suffered?"
"Kiss me!" the girl said with a breathless urgency in her voice.
Marjorie had never kissed another female before, but rather than being repulsed by the idea, her heart lurched, and she sucked in her breath. Slowly, eagerly, she dropped her head, her eyes focused on the parted lips of the girl she had just spanked. How soft they were under her own, how warm. Maxine brought her hands up and clasped them around her tutor's neck, seemingly to hold her in place, though Marjorie wasn't inclined to break the contact. Marjorie lifted her hands and caressed the girl's silky hair, brushed against her cheeks, then traveled down until she could feel the frantic pulse in Maxine's neck, attesting to the girl's own passion. Meanwhile their lips twined and explored, tongues tentatively extending and probing.
Marjorie moaned, the intensity of her emotions overtaking her. But hearing that one wordless sound she was momentarily drawn back from her lust-clouded reverie and thought, What am I doing?
Sensing her tutor's change of mood, Maxine winced, a twinge of pain showing on her face. "Seriously, Mistress Marjorie, I think my sore bottom would be greatly soothed if you would be so kind as to rub some liniment into the welts I'm sure are forming." She sat back on her heels at the feet of her tormentress and again winced.
"Oh, my dear, of course we should take care of your poor bottom."
Without a word Maxine lifted up her gown and slip and pulled down her panties. She moved to the bed and tried to arrange herself comfortably, but the voluminous skirts kept falling back over her pink-striped bottomcheeks. "I guess I should just take this off, or the liniment might stain." In a flash the young lady of the manor had whisked her gown up over her head and twirled around to face her tutor, her beautiful body glowing in all its youthful glory.
Marjorie had been struck breathless, her momentary resolve shattered. She moved across the room as if in a trance and pulled the eighteen-year-old vixen into her arms, kissing her once again. Her hands eagerly caressed the soft skin of the girl's shoulders, and then skated down the delightful curve of her back. As her hands neared the firmly packed rotundity of the girl's bottomglobes, she could feel the heat of her correction radiating from the bruised flesh.
Maxine gasped in pleasure as well as pain and ground herself against Marjorie's slim body. Although she could feel the cooling touch of Marjorie's hands on her rear, that same touch was igniting an altogether different fire in her groin. Wanting to extinguish the fire, but not at all sure how to go about it, Maxine began to tug at Marjorie's gown, pulling it up and exposing the older woman's limbs, and the shadowy juncture between her thighs. She frantically pulled her tutoress to her so that they both fell on top of the bed behind them. Still tugging at the confining material of Marjorie's gown, Maxine wrapped her naked limbs around Marjorie's back and ground her hips, trying to establish contact with the woman's sexual center.
Caught up beyond control now, Marjorie helped divest herself of her irksome clothing. She sighed as she finally found herself naked on top of the girl she had beaten just a few minutes before. She didn't quite understand the fires she had ignited in this young girl-and in herself-but there was no turning back now. Slowly, passionately, she once again brought her mouth down to the soft lips and kissed Maxine, forcing the girl's pink lips to part and accept the tongue which speared into the moist interior. Marjorie became aware as that kiss lingered of how different this body felt against her own. So much softer and more pliable than Gordon's hardness. She could feel Maxine's pert young breasts rubbing against hers and an electric thrill ran through her body. Her nipples stiffened in response. Her eyes were drawn towards the twin hillocks poised beneath her. The small globes were topped with delightful pink-tinged centers that were just starting to crinkle under Marjorie's loving scrutiny. Maxine, sure that she was now going to get the satisfaction she was longing for, reached up and pulled Marjorie's head down, directing her lips to one of the soft mounds. Marjorie, not taking her eyes from the firm globe, parted her lips and sucked the nipple into her mouth. Although she delighted in the firm flesh filling her mouth, Marjorie soon abandoned the breast, for that wasn't the flesh she was longing to have under her tongue. Sliding her lips over the silky skin of the girl's flat belly, her nostrils were soon tickled by the sparse, curly hairs of Maxine's pussy.
Maxine rocked her head back and forth on the mattress, silently calling out a denial she didn't mean, unable to contain herself as she felt the tip of Marjorie's tongue like a stamen in the flower of her pussylips. A wordless cry escaped her lips as her legs quivered then jerked spasmodically as Marjorie's tongue found the spot and titillated it, swirling her tongue around and around the straining bit of hard flesh as her hands caressed the young girl's hips and thighs.
Abandoning the overexcited clitoris for a brief moment, Marjorie stabbed her tongue into the depths of the young virgin's pussyhole, lapping at the creamy moisture she found there, delighting in the taste of the slick passion juice. As soon as she felt the violent tremors ease in the girl's body and heard the rasp of her breathing lessen, Marjorie once again attacked that upstanding love spot, cruelly clasping the writhing girl to her by digging her fingers into the girl's sorely used bottomcheeks.
Immediately Maxine's body arched off the bed, rigid in her pleasure, while Marjorie sucked furiously on her clitoris, attempting to ride the wildly bucking body of her charge.
That relationship had lasted six months. Eventually Maxine would purposely commit mistakes in her lessons or be impudent in order to incur a voluptuous whipping followed by the sweet consolation of Sapphic caresses.
Gordon Sayers' factory thrived in spite of his business negligence, but he was more interested in his own erotic adventures. He was particularly interested in his new secretary, Laura Williams, a chestnut-haired young woman of twenty-five, who had been married at eighteen and divorced a year later, and who had purposely set her cap for her wealthy and handsome employer even though she knew he was married.
One evening, when Gordon Sayers was forced to catch up with his business correspondence, he had asked Laura Williams to have dinner with him and then go back to the office to do overtime work. She readily assented. From the office they had hurried directly to a motel and there made love. This passionate relationship continued for several months, and Laura constantly and insidiously proposed that Gordon divorce his wife, for whom he obviously had no great love, and marry her instead.
Finally, one afternoon, when most of the plant employees were on vacation, and when Gordon Sayers believed that his wife had gone to Little Rock on a shopping expedition to buy a fall wardrobe, he made the mistake of bringing Laura to his house. Marjorie Sayers returned several hours earlier than expected and, hearing curious noises in the bedroom, went down the hall to investigate.
When she opened the bedroom door, she found Laura Williams atop her husband, both of them naked. Laura was in the act of holding Gordon's stiff cock and guiding it into her voracious cunt. Her other arm was under his shoulders while both his hands were cupping her generously ripe titties.
Marjorie had gone white and stood there petrified with revulsion and hatred. Now she could understand why her husband had so seldom come to her bed the past few years. Suddenly Gordon looked up and uttered a cry of horrified surprise. Laura also looked and uttered a shriek of dismay, then tried to get off the bed, simultaneously grabbing her slip and holding it about her trembling nakedness.
Marjorie Sayers had demanded that her husband give her a divorce at once or she would bring charges against him for adultery and name Laura Williams. He readily assented.
In seeking a lawyer, Marjorie Sayers had gone to a friend of Judge Austin W. Black, who was on the verge of his campaign for the post of Municipal Court Judge. The friend had recommended Black, and Marjorie Sayers had arranged an interview with him. The white-haired lecher at once told himself that here was a woman he could use to his advantage.
He could tell that Marjorie Sayers was trembling with frustrated rage and a burning desire for vengeance, and he had accorded her the opportunity for a spiritual catharsis. He proposed to name her superintendent of the soon-to-be-founded women's correctional institution at Welfare Island, and she eagerly agreed to accept the post if so nominated.
Shortly after the divorce had been granted, the Judge had his henchmen apprehend Laura Williams in Chattanooga where she had fled to live with her sister. She had been brought back on a charge of forgery and embezzlement-both charges were ingeniously contrived in order to extradite her from Chattanooga-and she had been sentenced to serve two years on Welfare Island.
On the first day of her sentence, she was led in by a matron to see the new superintendent. Her horror had been unimaginable when she had seen Marjorie Sayers seated at the desk in her white silk blouse and tight black skirt. As a result of that meeting, Laura Williams was sentenced to a week of isolation for disrespectful behavior toward the new superintendent. That evening, Marjorie Sayers and two matrons entered the young woman's cell.
Laura Williams was stripped naked and stretched over a sawhorse. As a supreme humiliation, Marjorie Sayers had Jackie and Betty, two of her guards, give her husband's former mistress a sound whipping with a leather strap and a three-thonged martinet. Then, sending her matrons out of the cell, Marjorie had undressed to just her boots, and standing in front of the sobbing captive on the sawhorse, twisted her fingers in Laura Williams' hair. "Since you obviously got so much pleasure from one Sayer, how about giving the other one a try," Marjorie hissed, yanking on Laura Williams' hair until the young woman cried out. Still grasping the sobbing woman's hair, Marjorie tilted the captive's head back until her mouth was facing right into her tormentor's crotch. Marjorie came a step closer and then halted, legs spread wide, in front of the woman who had broken up her marriage. The cruel redhead taunted her captive, holding her head up with one hand while rubbing a rattan cane over the sobbing woman's cheek with her other hand. "You have five minutes to make me come. If you don't please me, I'll use this fine instrument on your tasty little buttocks."
Relentless in her desire to punish this beautiful adulteress, Marjorie again moved forward, pushing her curly red pussyhairs into the strapped-down woman's face. "Open your mouth, bitch," Marjorie hissed, punctuating her command with a violent lash of the rattan cane across the prisoner's back. With a sob, Laura Williams opened her mouth and began to tongue her adversary's pussy, working her tongue as deeply into the folds of wet flesh as she could. Marjorie pressed Laura's face tighter and tighter against her cunt until her poor victim could scarcely breathe. "Faster," the prison's superintendent cried, beating a staccato measure on the exposed flesh.
The combined stimulus of Laura's oral ministrations and the sadistic pleasure of whipping her white flesh brought Marjorie to an earth-shattering orgasm long before the five-minute allotment had passed.
After her sentence had been served, Laura Williams had been compelled to become a trustee in the prison, and was paid a minimum stipend because of her freed status. Yet she remained at her rival's mercy, and whenever Marjorie Sayers sought to vent her spleen, Laura was forced to serve as literal whipping girl.
By now, Welfare Island had been turned into a kind of secret "training school" for intended prostitutes destined for the Syndicate, and/or for purchase by wealthy business people. Jackie and Betty, sublime dominatrixes in their own right, learned even more complex cruelties under the disciplinary regime of the sadistic superintendent, and were as much feared by the luckless prisoners who found themselves sentenced to servitude in this grim castle-like prison.
Marjorie Sayers was handsomely paid, and received a share of the profits derived from this illicit traffic in white slaves.
As for Dr. Archibald Fenwick, he was a repulsive but brilliant physician who had almost been drummed out of the profession in California after being arrested on a charge of performing abortions on call girls who worked for a West Coast Syndicate hoodlum. He was fifty, fat, personally unclean, completely bald, extremely myopic (so much so that he wore thick-lensed spectacles), and considered himself to have superior perceptions of objective reality.
He had been born in New York City, taken his medical degree and internship at one of New York's best hospitals, and then gone into private practice in a fashionable Madison Avenue office building. He had been a pronouncedly unattractive only child, and his neglectful parents had rarely shown him much affection. As a young man his sexual pleasures came solely from prostitutes, whose mentality he thought he understood, and whose company he preferred to that of the debutantes and young society matrons he met, whom he considered to be mere amateurs. He had had to flee his practice when, in an ill-judged moment, he'd anesthetized one of his patients and raped her on the examining table. From New York he had gone to California, and then fled the state one jump ahead of the arresting officers after forfeiting his bail while awaiting a final hearing on the charge for which he had been arrested.
But at a Mensa meeting in New York he'd met and struck up a friendship with one Eric Fortescue, a dilettante of erotic pleasures, enormously wealthy, who traveled all over the world and had an extraordinary pornographic library. This friend, Fortescue, lived a few months of each year in Little Rock, where he had been born, and Dr. Archibald Fenwick sought refuge with him after his precipitate flight from California.
Since Fortescue was an intimate friend of Judge Austin W. Black, it was small wonder that within a few months of meeting the corrupt judicial head of the Municipal Court, Dr. Archibald Fenwick was installed as medical advisor to the women's correctional institution at Welfare Island. And there at last he could indulge his penchant for vicious sadism and depraved sexuality for the benefit of an elite and wealthy audience, and be well paid, both in profits and pleasure!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Although Dr. Marjorie Sayers had mostly matrons to assist her in the supervision and operation of the correctional institution, there were nonetheless several male guards on the Welfare Island staff. One of them was young Ray Hickey. He had no way of knowing that the real reason for his tenure and the excellent salary he was being paid-one that he could not have found anywhere at all in the town of Catayunga itself-was because his beautiful wife Irene had caught the discriminating eye of Judge Austin W. Black.
Ray Hickey, a native of Catayunga, was twenty eight, rangy, with brown hair and pleasant regular features. He had inherited a little farm from his elderly father, from which he had been able to eke out a meager existence until about six months ago when he had been astounded to have a visitor at the little ramshackle house. The visitor had been none other than Yoshio Kimura, Judge Black's Japanese manservant. In his excellent English, the Oriental valet had inquired whether Ray Hickey was interested in becoming a guard at the women's correctional institution at a salary of five hundred dollars a week. Ray had gasped in amazement and nodded, speechless at the prospect of such untold riches. Now he would be able to marry his sweetheart Irene Murray, who was working as a clerk in the town's only bank, and who had come from County Cork about ten years ago to live with her uncle and aunt and their two pretty daughters, Elsie and Mae.
Ray had been courting Irene for almost a year prior to this unexpected windfall, and she had indicated that she was drawn to him. But her aunt and uncle had opposed the marriage because their niece, they felt, deserved better than the life of a farmer's wife, especially a poor farmer like Ray.
Ray Hickey had gone to the Judge's office in the courthouse the very next day to enthusiastically accept the offer. He had emerged with a radiant look on his face as if he had just entered paradise. In a way he had, for as soon as he told Irene's protective uncle and aunt, they had given him their blessing and he and Irene had been married two weeks later.
His life had changed so much since landing the guard job that Ray's head spun for the entire two weeks before his wedding Irene. Now the guests had been left behind at Irene's former home and she, the blushing bride, was in his arms being carried across the threshold of his farmhouse. He didn't bother to put her down until he had carried her up the stairs and into his bedroom. Carefully, as if she were a china doll, Ray stood his wife in the middle of the room and backed away from her. "Irene, my beautiful wife," he said, almost reverently. "God, I like the sound of that: my wife." He looked at her in her wedding gown, standing in the middle of his room, with the setting sun turning the white lace a fiery red. "Let me help you with that," he whispered, walking around her so that he could get to the tiny row of buttons down the back of the gown.
Irene was so glad that Ray was taking control of the situation because she had no idea what a bride was expected to do on her wedding night. She could feel him behind her working loose one button after another, and shivered when she felt his strong fingers brush against her now-bare skin. The buttons went all the way down to the small of her back.
Irene's aunt had helped her get the exquisite gown fastened up. While her aunt helped dress her before the wedding, she had mumbled something about "a woman being expected to do whatever her husband wants." But when pressed on the subject the old woman had just blushed and couldn't be made to say any more about. Now Irene could feel her husband's hands around her waist, turning her until she faced him again. She blushed and stared down at the floor.
Ray slowly drew in his breath. She was so beautiful he couldn't believe that she had actually agreed to be his wife and was now here in his bedroom. He reached out and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face up. A brief smile crossed her lips, bringing out the adorable little dimples in her cheeks. He kissed her slowly, not wanting to frighten her. She responded to his kiss, lifting her hands and resting them on his arms. He pulled back and held her at arms' distance, and then slowly pulled the gown, still draped over her shoulders, down her arms. He quickly stripped her of the rest of her clothes before she could protest.
Ray, overcome at seeing his lovely wife naked for the first time, swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. In a flash he had shrugged off his own clothes and joined her there, stretching his body out alongside her creamy white loveliness. He eagerly caressed her all over, starting with her full breasts, which had tantalized him under her clothing for months now. He cupped her firm rotundities in his hands, squeezing gently and pushing them together. He then moved his head back and forth, kissing and sucking first one stiffening nipple, then the other. Rising to his knees, he ran his hands over her rib cage, delighting in the goose bumps that formed as his fingers ran over her flesh. Slowly, locking his eyes on her startled gaze, he slid his hands over her hips and thighs. As soon as he reached her knees, he pulled her legs apart and ran his fingers up along the insides of her thighs, hesitating for just an instant before stroking her dark bush. Mesmerized by the curly blue black hairs surrounded by her glowing white skin, he bent down to kiss her on lips she had never thought of as kissable. He tenderly parted those fleshy lips and licked up and down the length of her slit, delighting in her musky taste, and even more in the soft sighs and moans he could hear coming from her. His prick throbbed in anticipation. He wanted to plunge his cock into her pussy instead of just his tongue as he was doing now, but he wanted to get her excited first; he wanted her to enjoy their first time as much as he knew he would. But in the meantime his cock was harder than it had ever been, and he stretched his body out, unconsciously thrusting against her leg while his mouth ravaged her virgin cunt. Irene was sobbing now with pleasure and pulling his head tighter against her pussy, twisting her lingers in his hair.
Ray looked up, his eyes traveling the length of her creamy white body. "Reenie, love, I want you now. I want to make love to you. It may hurt a little bit at first when I start, but I promise I'll stop if you say so."
A slight frown crossed Irene's face as she was brought back to earth by the sound of his voice. She had wanted the incredible feelings he was creating in her to go on forever. Now, instead of keeping his face buried in her crotch, he was saying words she found frightening.
Ray moved up her body, kissing her breasts as he passed over them. He kissed her sweet mouth, giving her a taste of her own juices while he parted her legs with his own and probed her pussy entrance with his swollen glans. He pushed, his engorged cock moving slowly into her passage. He could barely contain his excitement at finally feeling his prickhead surrounded by Irene's hot, wet cunt. Feeling his progress halted by her hymen, Ray lost control and tried to plow through the barrier.
"Stop, Ray, oh stop, you're hurting me."
Instead of keeping his promise to his new wife and halting, Ray withdrew slightly and then furiously rammed into her, breaking through the virgin shield in one thrust. Panting, Ray lay still, buried to the balls on his sobbing bride's body. "I'm sorry, baby. I know I promised, but I just couldn't hold back. You excite me so much ... I just lost control. It won't hurt any more now though, I promise."
Irene choked back another sob and rubbed her cheek against his, telling him wordlessly that he was forgiven.
Ray began to withdraw again, slowly pulling his throbbing length out of her pussy. She was tight, so tight and slick and hot that he was afraid of losing control again. He would not break this second promise, though; there would be no more pain. His cock twitched, seemingly in complaint, as Ray withdrew completely from the warm sheath he had occupied for such a short time. Taking his rampaging staff in his hand, he rubbed the engorged helmet-shaped cap over her clitoris, finding the sensitive spot with some difficulty through the tangled matt of her pussyhairs. The slick skin of his penis slid over her flesh much as his tongue had, bringing a smile back to her beautiful face as she remembered once again how good he had made her feel. Slowly Ray rocked back and forth, holding his cock in position over the stiffening nub of her desire, groaning as desire stabbed through his groin. She was bucking under him now, rocking her hips in time to his ministrations, breathing harder now as she neared her first orgasm. The moment he felt her nearing her crisis, he dipped down and again pushed his manhood into her sweet depths. Before he sank down on her body, he placed his thumb over her clitoris, making sure he kept up the pleasing rhythm he had started with his cockhead. Irene groaned as she felt her passage filled again, but this time Ray heard only passion in that primal sound, passion and a plea for release. Still stimulating her lovebud with his thumb, Ray drove into her, pumping steadily, delighting in the way her flesh walls, tightening with her oncoming orgasm, squeezing his prick deep within her. Suddenly Irene arched her back, clutching at his shoulders with her hands and grinding her hips, pushing herself up to meet his thrusts. Ray threw his head back and gritted his teeth, trying desperately to hold on to his boiling seed for just a moment longer, wanting to postpone the glorious moment when his hot essence would inundate her interior for the first time.
Irene couldn't hold back, indeed wouldn't have known how, so caught up was she in the explosion she was experiencing. All she knew was that she had to move, had to try to get him even deeper within her if she could. Unconsciously she threw her legs up and around his waist, pulling him to her, into her. She rocked her hips in time to his thrusts and screamed, coming, exploding, fainting with the uncontrollable feeling that swept her away.
Ray, too, lost control in that instant, exploding within her and collapsing on her inert form, gasping for breath, grateful that she'd had pleasure from their first encounter, reassured that he had not destroyed her love for him when he burst through her virgin shield.
Irene lived in the farmhouse, to which Ray had been able to bring quite a few creature comforts such as a new refrigerator and an air-conditioning unit, thanks to his salary as a guard at Welfare Island. He'd also bought a secondhand Ford to drive from the farmhouse to the desolate, castle-like edifice located in the middle of the deep creek.
His work as a guard kept him there five days a week, and on several occasions of late, even over Saturdays and Sundays. It wasn't long before Ray Hickey discovered that he was expected to keep his mouth shut in return for his excellent salary, particularly when he had to take part in some of the private orgies located in the arena that was built in the basement of the remarkable building. The prison current ly housed some five hundred females between the ages of eighteen and forty. To be sure, a good half of these prisoners were under sentence for various crimes and did not interest Judge Black or the Syndicate in the slightest because of their background or their lack of physical attractiveness. They underwent quite a different regimen than the others who were destined to be broken into a shameful servitude, and of course they were not aware of the difference. That way when they were released after serving their sentences, they had nothing to report to the outside world of what really went on inside Welfare Island.
Ray Hickey had been unknowingly trapped without knowing it into an involvement in the sordid affair, the cost of which would be his own lovely young wife's bewitching charms. Judge Austin W. Black had seen to that. Late one Friday afternoon, about three months after the happy young man had accepted his job and celebrated it by marrying Irene, Dr. Marjorie Sayers summoned the brown-haired guard into her office and informed him that he was to report for work on the following evening. Ray was a little startled by this, because he and Irene had been looking forward to a drive to Little Rock and a show and dinner at a fine restaurant there. Dr. Sayers, noting the look of disappointment on his face, had curtly remarked, "Of course, Mr. Hickey, if this interferes with your social life, you can always be replaced. Judge Black told me that you are still on probation with us. I must say, however, that thus far your work has been excellent and I had thought of recommending you for a raise. However, if you can't make it tomorrow, I suppose you can't."
This threat had sufficed to make Ray Hickey offer his services on Saturday night, and he had told his disappointed young bride that they would have to put off their celebration-it was actually the anniversary of the third month of their marriage-until the following week. When he had reported for work at about five on Saturday evening, he had been directed by the superintendent to go downstairs to the arena and join Seamus Marmot, a strapping, iron-handed guard, a former prizefighter, forty years old and solid nothing but trouble. Indeed, Marmot had first met Judge Black when he was charged with the attempted rape of the pretty wife of the owner of the farm where he worked. The Judge had had a lengthy and exhaustive session with the man. Seamus had told him that the woman had made overtures to him, taken him out to the barn and then turned out to be a prick-teaser who had just wanted to fool around some, so clearly she'd had it coming. The upshot was that Judge Black formally dismissed the charge and offered Seamus Marmot a job as guard on the Island. There the combination of his swinish tastes and great strength could make him an extremely valuable assistant in the profitable work of "breaking in" rebellious young women.
On this memorable occasion, Ray Hickey found himself teamed with Seamus Marmot to administer a whipping to a pair of handsome sisters, Johanna and Margaret Eames. Johanna was twenty-four, ripe of body and black-haired, while Margaret was twenty-one, auburn-haired, tall and svelte. Both sisters had been sentenced to Welfare Island for three months on the charge of soliciting in the town of Arbor Falls, about twenty miles north of Catayunga. The truth was that they worked as waitresses in a combination restaurant-nightclub. The owner, a man who had affiliations with the crime Syndicate, had lusted for their bodies. Margaret and Johanna had indignantly refused their employer's advances. They were orphans, and had been earning their own livelihood for the past five years. It was this particular circumstance that made them especially attractive candidates for the correctional institution, because they would have no one to aid them when singled out for arrest and eventual sentence to the prison. Runaways, orphans, divorcees, and others who had no living relatives in the area were singularly vulnerable, and Judge Black's henchmen throughout the state were instructed to bring such women to his attention. For often the Syndicate would convey orders to the corrupt Judge, indicating that this or that brothel required some new inmates, and would set forth general physical specifications as to age, color of hair and skin, and general physical propensities. These "orders" were ruthlessly filled by the Judge.
Johanna and Margaret Eames, having slighted their employer, were reported to the Judge at a time when Tony Rocco, the Syndicate contact in New Orleans, was in need of six new girls. As a consequence, their employer was ordered to prefer charges against them of soliciting his patrons for the purpose of prostitution. They were arraigned and brought before Judge Black in the Municipal Court, and sentenced to three months for vagrancy and solicitation. Their protestations of innocence and their attempt to call some of their waitress colleagues as defense witnesses were no help whatsoever, and they found themselves fingerprinted, photographed, and driven over to the island dock in a police wagon, from which a motor boat took them across the moat and into the hands of the grim matrons who marched them into Dr. Marjorie Sayers' office.
A week after their incarceration, during which they had been in complete isolation from each other and from other inmates, Johanna and Margaret Eames were brought into Dr. Sayers' office again, to be interviewed by Tony Rocco. He was a little man, black-haired, about forty-eight, with a scar on his left cheek and a husky voice. He was an inveterate pimp and lecher, but despite his lack of prepossessing qualities, he made a fortune for the Syndicate and was highly regarded by the upper echelon of the Cosa Nostra. Tony Rocco ingratiatingly suggested to the handsome young women that if they were reasonable and would forget the supposed injustice done them, he could arrange for excellent jobs for them upon their release. Johanna defiantly demanded to know what kind of jobs these would be, to which Tony Rocco had slyly retorted, "Why, you'll work in one of the best houses in New Orleans, my dear. With your beauty, and after we've had a chance to restyle your hair, give you some fine clothes, and teach you a few tricks, you'll be one of the most sought-after girls in town, believe me."
Johanna Eames had indignantly denounced him as a rogue and villain, and had said that she would die before she agreed to become a prostitute. He had shrugged, given Dr. Sayers a knowing glance, and left the office. On the following night, that Saturday night when Ray Hickey had postponed his celebration with his beloved Irene, Johanna and Margaret Eames were "presented" to a masked audience in the arena in the subterranean level of the grim castle.
They had been blindfolded and dragged into the center of the arena. Each had been tied with her back to an upright wooden post set in the earth. Judge Black, whose vivid imagination led him to evoke fantasies out of the historical past, had designed the arena so that it could be used much as the Romans had used their own stadiums in the terrible days when Christians were thrown to the lions, ravaged by baboons and wild donkeys, and made to endure atrociously obscene ordeals that caught the fancy of the bloodthirsty populace.
Their clothes were torn away and they were left naked, crying out in their terror and shame. There were about fifty men and women present, all elegantly dressed and all wearing masks. Sitting in the comfortable loge seats, they were served refreshments by charming young girls, dressed much as Martha Krankheit was generally dressed, in short nylon tunics and high-heeled pumps. If the spectators so desired, these charming young goddesses were made available to them in a private suite elsewhere in the castle when the spectacle was ended.
Dr. Sayers handed Ray Hickey a long carriage whip made of fine silk and knotted all along its last foot. He was told to flog Johanna, while Seamus Marmot was handed a similar whip and ordered to flog the other girl. When Ray hesitated, Dr. Sayers acidly told him that if he refused, he would not only be discharged, but also blackballed so that he could not find another job anywhere in the state. She also intimated that Judge Black had been looking over the title to his parents' farm and might possibly find some flaw therein, so that this property might be taken away from him.
Ray Hickey capitulated. Once he began to whip the beautiful and vulnerable Johanna, making the stinging lash wrap around Johanna's titties, belly, loins and thighs, and heard her plaintive cries and saw the frantic wrigglings of her delicious naked body, the venomous poison of sadistic lust was filtered into his own system, making him as avid a devotee of this erotic penchant as Austin W. Black himself. After he had flogged the half-fainting Johanna Eames, he was ordered to rape her then and there before all the massed spectators, while Seamus Marmot did the same to poor Margaret.
When the evening's activities were concluded, the two sisters were dressed and taken out of the prison and driven by Tony Rocco to New Orleans to begin their work as prostitutes in one of his most elegant houses. As for Ray Hickey, when he returned the next day to his farmhouse and his beautiful wife, he made such passionate love to her that Irene, though thrilled, was also left wondering what had made her husband turn into such a domineering and predatory lover, for he had never until then shown such roughness and brutality. Hitherto he had worshipped her, and even in their sweet games in bed as man and wife, he had laid gentle hands upon her body, hardly believing his good fortune in being given so beautiful and desirable a mate.
But Ray Hickey had not yet paid the full price for his job and his entrapment. That price would soon be collected from him when he would see his own wife delivered up to the Judge and the perverse Dr. Archibald Fenwick ... and would, against every shred of moral decency and honor, find himself secretly ecstatic over the fate of his virtuous and beautiful bride!
CHAPTER NINE
After Judge Austin W. Black had taken the maidenhead of Edith Garvin, he forced the unfortunate young woman to again suck the admittedly admirable pussy of the golden-haired Martha Krankheit until the latter had achieved a climax under his gloating eyes. Then, changing his personality completely into that of a fatherly and benign confidant, he bade Martha take Edith into the bathroom and give her a bath and solace her.
As soon as they left he called Marjorie Sayers. "I have just been sampling the charms of one of your charges, my dear Marjorie. By the way, how is Ray Hickey behaving himself?"
Upon being told that the guard was cooperating to the fullest extent, and even showing an enthusiasm for taking part in some of the private "shows," the white-haired lecher chuckled: "Excellent, my dear! Well, I want you to keep Mr. Hickey on Saturday evening, mind you. I'm going to let him see his delicious wife being entertained by Dr. Fenwick and myself. If I have any time left, I'll deal with Edith Garvin. Meanwhile, I'm going to have her delivered to you, so take good care of her. It's taken me five years to catch up with that haughty little bitch, but you can take my word that this evening she's had a great start in her education in being a woman!"
Dr. Marjorie Sayers had hung up the phone with a grimace of annoyance. She had no love at all for males, and the only pleasure she derived from witnessing or participating in scenes where her female charges were put to the lash and delivered up to violation was fed by the unwavering hatred she had for all spineless young women. And yet, seeing how her perverse pupils, Jackie and Betty, thrived in this unhallowed atmosphere, and how they delighted in applying the lash and torturing insipidly lovely young females singled out for punishment, Dr. Marjorie Sayers found her post eminently tolerable.
As she hung up the phone and prepared to receive the new prisoner, Edith Garvin, she thought of the Judge's remark about Dr. Archibald Fenwick. As hardened as she was, he made her flesh shudder-but that was nothing compared to the way he would make poor Irene Hickey shudder when she was ultimately delivered up to him.
Claire Ralston looked up from her typewriter as Sally Dalby entered the city desk room of the News Gazette and demurely took her place on the far side of the office. The svelte brunette's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened in anger. Sally's red-haired beauty and gorgeous figure made Claire spitefully jealous every time she saw that goody-goody little bitch. She knew that Jack Harkins was sweet on Sally, and she wished there was a way of eliminating the girl at the other end of the room ... maybe even permanently. Because if Sally were out of the way, she herself would have the field clear of any rival, and she could go after Jack and make him hers. An idea grew in her mind, but it was much too fantastic, too improbable. She knew Judge Austin Black, and she knew that, as head of the Municipal Court of Catayunga, he was empowered to sentence women to the prison on Welfare Island. If only Sally Dalby could be arrested on some charge or another and given a taste of what prison was really like, maybe with brawny matrons taking a strap to that tender behind of hers and making her get down on all fours and scrub the floor like a slave ... then she could really get her hooks into handsome Jack. She couldn't understand why a virile man like him had never given her a tumble.
Claire Ralston was not a virgin, and she'd had affairs, not only with several men, but also with a number of attractive women. She had just moved into a handsome furnished apartment on Elderberry Avenue, one of the prettiest residential sections of Catayunga. She had hired a farm girl, Wilma Deering, to take care of the apartment and to help her with the cooking when she felt out of sorts, which was most of the time lately because of her frustration over Jack.
Wilma Deering had lived on a little farm that produced potatoes and seed corn. The pretty orphan had discovered that her fifty-two-year-old stepfather intended for her to take her dead mother's place in his bed. She had already resisted him several times and tasted the strap in the woodshed for her pains. He had finally given her an ultimatum one stormy winter evening: "You come across, you teasing little bitch, because you know you're hot for it. There's no need to carry on like you're a high-price cherry-or else I'll tie you up in the barn and strap your ass and tits till you beg me to poke you good and plenty, you hear, Wilma?"
Wilma was a spirited girl and had decided to run away rather than submit to a life of sexual servitude. Unfortunately for her, she had been apprehended by one of Sheriff Mack Dawson's deputies and brought back to town. The Sheriff, one of Judge Black's cronies and as corrupt as his overlord, had interviewed the frightened, but defiant girl and promptly returned her to her stepfather.
He had tied her by her wrists to a beam in the barn, her gingham skirt dragged up over her head to blindfold her and muffle her cries. Her panties had then been dragged down to her calves and she was strapped ferociously on her naked bottom until she nearly fainted. Then, overcome by his insensate lust, her stepfather had fucked her, despite her valiant attempts to ward him off by kicking at him. He had cuffed her to unconsciousness and then had his way with her. After he was done, he left her there all night, bleeding and slumped in her bonds, her bottom livid from the crisscrossing weals that the heavy leather strap had laid upon it.
In the morning, when he came out to tend her wounds, she had feigned submission and agreed to be his bed-bitch. Overjoyed and tricked by her apparent docility-which he naturally attributed to his own domineering skill-he had allowed her to take a bath. Then, locking her in her room, he had gone to town to buy her a new dress, a bribe which he had promised in return for her "being nice to me like your mom used to be."
Wilma had managed to break a window with her shoe and crawl out, scratching herself rather badly in the process. She had gone into town on foot, and made her way to a small employment agency run by a motherly widow. Once she had told the widow her story of beatings and violation, the shocked woman had promised to find her a job and to hide her identity in case her stepfather made inquiries after her. At about this time, Claire Ralston had decided, jaded as she was by her lack of sexual adventures, to hire a maid, and so Wilma Deering had entered her household.
Claire found the pretty girl quite piquant and desirable, and amused herself the first few weeks by changing Wilma's hairdo, buying some new clothes that accentuated the young woman's physical charms, and teaching her certain amenities in service as well as in the intimate care of her mistress. She saw to it that Wilma was frequently summoned to undress and dress her, to help her with her bath, to apply perfume and powder and even makeup, and to do her hair. Gradually, Wilma, as Claire had slyly hoped, began to be attracted by the sensual allure of the svelte brunette. Wilma was of slightly more than medium height, with a round, sweet face, dimpled cheeks, expressive, large, hazel eyes with very thick brows, a straight nose, and a full mouth. Her skin was the adorable carnation tint often found in blondes, and she was nicely built--not that that excused her stepfather's rape! She had high-perched, round titties with strawberry-pink buds, a slim waist that flared into round, solidly resilient and compact buttocks, long but deliciously curvaceous thighs and saucily high-set calves, together with a nearly-inevitable mound over which only a crisp and not overly thick cluster of dark brown pussy curls shielded the adorable pink fig of her cunt.
Her voice was seductively low-pitched, even a trifle husky and tremulous, caused, no doubt, by the atrocious months of subjugation by her stepfather. Under Claire's aegis, however, she had regained much of her spirit and grace, though she was still quite ingenuous as to the ways of men and women. And she knew absolutely nothing about the ways of women with their own kind.
On this Friday afternoon, exactly a week after Edith Garvin had been apprehended and brought to the Judge's house for the long-awaited "reunion," Claire Ralston took another look at Sally Dalby, rose from her desk and marched into the office of Jack Harkins, wearing her sweetest smile and her jauntiest manner.
"Hi there, Claire," he greeted her, looking up from a proof of the front page of the next edition of the News-Gazette. "What can I do for you?"
"A lot more than you think, Jack," was Claire's blunt answer as she seated herself at the side of his desk, crossing her sleek legs which were elegantly sheathed in smoke-colored nylons. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing, so far as I know. Why?"
"Why don't we go out to dinner at the Palace? I know it's not like New York, Chicago, or Frisco, but we could make believe."
"Claire, I like you very much and I think you're a sweet girl," Jack Harkins said, laying down his blue pencil and looking directly at the provocative brunette. "I'm very flattered that you've taken a liking to me, and I could reciprocate if it weren't for the fact that I happen to be engaged." Claire's smile faded. "To Sally. I suppose?" she poutingly asked.
"That's right. There's no use kidding you, Claire. This is a small town and everybody knows what everybody else is doing, which sometimes isn't too good for all concerned. But Sally and I are engaged, and I hope to marry her. What I want, before anything else and even before that, though, is to get a real scoop and make the News-Gazette important so the big papers will pick it up. I'm working on an idea right now."
"May I know what it is?"
"I'd rather you didn't. Seriously, Claire, it's top drawer stuff."
"You're aiming high, aren't you? I wonder if it has anything to do with Judge Black."
He scowled. "Now what makes you say a thing like that, Claire? I didn't mention Judge Black, did I?"
She shrugged, uncrossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, then crossed her legs the other way, this time making sure that her skirt rucked up above her dimpled kneecap. "I just happen to know you don't especially like him," she drawled. "So I thought maybe you'd like to pin something on him."
"This is a newspaper, even if it is in a small town. Where I learned journalism, Claire, you report the facts, not what you want to happen. Sure, I'd like to see him impeached and run out of town, but until someone proves that he's a no-good politician who is making more money than his salary pays him for sitting on the bench and sending unfortunate women off to that hellhole of a prison, that's not going to happen. But I'm not going to report a thing that isn't a bona-fide fact."
"You're a noble crusader, is that it?" she said peevishly, staring angrily at him. "Why don't you relax, Jack? If you're going to stay around and wait for a smart guy like Black to make a mistake, you'll be wearing a gray beard and still running this crummy little paper. But if you're as smart as I'm sure you are, you'll take a job in New York, St. Louis, New Orleans, or maybe Chicago, get yourself a decent salary, and team up with a girl who knows the ropes. Sally's fine, but she's a small town hick, and don't you forget it."
"I think that's quite enough, Claire. Let's keep personalities out of this. I happen to be engaged to her and I'm going to marry her."
"Fine. I'm sorry you won't take me out tonight. I'd even pay for it."
"Thanks anyway, but no thanks."
"All right. I know when I'm licked. But one day, I'll lay a little bet that you'll be sorry you turned me down, Jack Harkins. I don't usually throw myself at a man the way I just did at you, and I don't particularly like being given the brush-off. Why, I could be nicer to you right now than Sally will ever know how to be, if you want to know something." She rose, smoothing her dress over her thighs and looking at him with languorous eyes. He flushed hotly, for there was no doubt that she was a stimulating piece of cunt. Indeed, Claire Ralston had figured in many of his nocturnal fantasies, but there had never been any love attached to it. He knew her for a scheming, cool, sophisticated bitch, a fine mistress or one nightstand, but not wife material.
"I'm not looking for that in a wife," he said rather stiffly, then cursed himself for being so candid.
Claire tilted back her head and laughed merrily. "My, aren't you a real Sir Galahad, though! I guess I overestimated you, Jack. I thought you were a real swinger, and that you wouldn't tie yourself down to a sweet little homebody who'll pop out a couple of brats and then get fat and stupid and-"
"I think that's quite enough, Claire. Don't make me say something we'll both regret. You know, if you don't like it here, you can always resign."
"I know that. You're not going to fire me because you know I'm doing a damn good job and I'm doing it for peanuts. I don't need the money. I'll tell you one last thing, since this is our moment of truth, Jack Harkins. I'm hot for you, and, as I've just told you, this is the first time I've ever come right out and told a man I felt that way about him. You can understand that I don't feel too kindly at being shown the door. But I'm going to fool you. I'm going to stick around this office and do my job and just wait for developments. Because one of these days, you're going to be sorry you turned me down."
She walked out, went over to her desk, tore the page out of the typewriter roller with a vicious grimace, crumpled it up into a wad and flung it into the wastebasket, then walked out of the office.
Later that evening, after Wilma had finished washing and drying the dinner plates and silver, Claire Ralston lounged in a black satin negligee on the wide couch in the spacious living room of her apartment. Her face was dark with anger and she puffed at a cigarette, impatiently flicking the ashes into a copper ashtray on the glass-covered coffee table before her. It was as she had thought. Jack Harkins wanted to be a little hero. And about the only person he could attack in this crummy little town was Judge Austin W. Black. There were no two ways about it: Jack Harkins was out to get the Judge, by fair means or foul. She hadn't fallen for his noble speech about not distorting facts, not one little bit. She also knew that Jack, as editor of the paper, had been dead set against locating a women's correctional facility so close to Catayunga, and that he had also been suspicious that somebody had made an enormous profit acquiring the property for a song and then selling it back to the state for the purpose of creating the institution.
Maybe it wouldn't do any harm to have a little chat with the Judge, just to sort of gauge which way the wind was blowing. Maybe there were certain favors the Judge could do for her in exchange for this little bit of information. She began to smile as she leaned back against the couch. She was naked under the negligee except for fluffy slippers, and her body tingled with the impatient desire that the memory of Jack Harkins' rebuff had aggravated.
"Wilma? Have you finished the dishes, dear?" she called.
A moment later, the charming young lady entered the room. She wore a glossy black satin skirt and sleeveless white satin bolero jacket that buttoned tightly over her swelling breasts and left her midriff bare. Gunmetal gray nylons sheathed her delectably curved legs, and her feet were shod in a pair of glistening black leather pumps with spike heels. A pretty little lace maid's cap was on her light brown hair, which had been cut in pert feathercurls that were sophisticated and chic. Claire's eyes narrowed with desire. "You look very pretty this evening, dear. But you know you broke a cup the other night, and I didn't say anything about it."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Miss Claire!" Wilma was instantly contrite.
"I'm afraid I shall have to punish you, darling. Go to my bedroom and prepare yourself. I'll be in shortly."
Wilma turned crimson to her throat and ears as she meekly lowered her eyes and stammered, "Why-yes, M-Miss Claire."
After she had disappeared, Claire Ralston lit another cigarette and crossed her elegantly lithe legs, pondering for a few minutes as she sent ring after ring of blue smoke wafting to the ceiling. Yes, it would be very smart to make a friend of Judge Austin W. Black. He could do a great deal for her. Maybe her fantasy of having Sally Dalby locked up and out of circulation wasn't so farfetched after all. She would give it some thought. And maybe someday....
She crushed out her cigarette and rose, her heart beating quickly as she went down the hallway to the bedroom. As she opened the door, her quince-firm breasts rose and fell with erotic excitement as she saw Wilma stretched out on the bed, naked except for her garter belt, hose and pumps, her head pillowed in her folded arms, her pale buttocks gleaming and palpitating under the diffused ceiling light.
On the bed beside her lay a wooden oval-shaped hairbrush and a leather strap.
Claire Ralston unbelted her negligee and let it slither to the floor. The thick black triangle of pussyfur marked the apex of her sleek legs. Her nipples had darkened and stiffened, and her lips were moist and quivering as she moved toward the bed.
"Get ready," she announced crisply, but her voice had the inflection of sensual anticipation. Wilma instantly put her hands behind her back, clasping her fingers as if in supplication, while Claire took the strap and made it tight around the girl's slim wrists. Then, kneeling on the bed, she took the hairbrush in her hand and commanded, "Count twenty-five, and after each one, say, 'I'm so sorry, Mistress Claire, that I broke the saucer!' Are you ready, my dear?"
"Yes, M-Mistress C-Claire," quavered the naked young beauty.
The hairbrush began to rise and fall slowly, with crisp sonorities, as gradually the carnation-smooth purity of those jutting and tempting round buttocks changed to angry scarlet, while the stockinged legs kicked up and down, and the naked, luscious hips of the young victim jerked and twisted. But Wilma counted out the spanks and added the ritualistic formula after each, though toward the end her voice was flurried with sobs and tears and whimpering little pleas for mercy.
When it was over, she lifted her head to kiss the hairbrush and then the hand that had wielded it. Her eyes were damp, and her breasts bounced with each panting breath as Claire bent and cupped the girl's chin and lifted her head to stare into those exquisite, dilated, tear-blurred hazel eyes.
"Do you want me to console you now, darling?" Claire breathed.
Once again Wilma could not suppress the violent blush that at once suffused her cheeks, and as she closed her eyes she whispered, "Oh yes, oh please yes!"
Claire shivered as she tossed the brush to the corner of the bed and then walked slowly toward her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she took out a black rubber dildo fixed to a webbing of sturdy nylon and leather, and affixed this phallic simulacrum about her loins. Then she turned back to the bed. Wilma had rolled over onto her back, her wrists still strapped and buckled behind her, and spread her thighs very wide, her eyes fixed on the bobbing, simulated male spear.
Claire Ralston clambered onto the bed, and her hands began to knead Wilma's panting tits. "Now I'm going to love you, darling, and make you forget that cruel spanking I had to give your beautiful bottom," she crooned.
As if she really were the man she was pretending to be, Claire held Wilma's full, pink-nippled breasts together and rubbed the imitation cock between them, groaning as if she could really feel stiff male flesh captured between firm breasts. Actually, the moan was due to the pressure of the fake male contraption against her all-too-real clitoris, the dildo being designed to make the most of every movement for its female devotees. In fact, the sight of Wilma's pert young breasts being buffeted by her wielding of the dildo enhanced Claire's own excitement. She grasped a round globe in one hand and used her other hand to keep the tip of the dildo in contact with the fast-reddening nipple as she thrust back and forth, fucking Wilma's breast until the girl was almost screaming from the pain. Claire delighted in the feeling of power the male role gave her, and she played the macho bit to the hilt.
Letting go of Wilma's ill-used breast, Claire roughly spread the poor girl's legs even wider, stretching her limbs until her pussyhole gaped open. Yet, despite the rough treatment, Wilma's fleshy folds were dripping with lovejuice, and she was moaning, pleading with Claire to fuck her.
Aiming the larger-than-life prick at the girl's awaiting cunt, Claire thrust herself as a man would into her lovely maid, lodging the device up to the equally fake balls. Slowly, sensuously, Claire ground her hips, rotating the thick spear deep within Wilma's pussy and, simultaneously, stimulating her own demanding lovebutton.
Without warning, she changed her tactics.
Grabbing Wilma's knees, she pushed them back against her sprawled body, giving her better access to the girl's uptilted pussyhole. Viciously, she began to thrust, ramming the long, prick-like weapon into her moaning servant. Wilma twisted her head to one side, not in pain but in a kind of sensual ecstasy, as her body arched to meet that brutal impalement.
Her knees up, twisting and moving from side to side, she wriggled her flaming buttocks as Claire Ralston dildo-fucked her. But at last Claire's own furious passions made her fall upon the groaning and sobbing naked girl and silence those cries with her own avid mouth and voracious tongue.
CHAPTER TEN
Ray Hickey had driven to the prison shortly after having lunch at home on Saturday afternoon with his wife. He was still very much down in the dumps over having to postpone their celebration, but Irene teasingly consoled him by nibbling at his earlobe and whispering, "Cheer up, darling, we can always do it next Saturday and it'll be just as nice. And if you don't come back home too late, I'll wait up for you and we can have a little party in bed. Would you like that, lover?" And then she had blushed, for until Ray had bedded her, she had been a virgin, and yet now she adored him and, despite her natural shyness, she had learned to give vent to all her passionate tendencies in his arms when the lights were out.
He had looked at her adoringly, and Irene Hickey had blushed and lowered her eyes. She was twenty-one, five feet five-and-a-half inches in height, and a perfect 36-22-36. But those dimensions, which a beauty contest judge would exclaim over, were only abstractions until one saw Irene in all her mouthwatering loveliness. Her hair was bluish black and extremely glossy, and she wore it in a thick ponytail with the curls combed away from the top of her forehead, and with a little silver barrette just at the back of her head from which it swung down to her shoulder blades.
Her face was heart-shaped, but there was a certain piquant sauciness to her features, exemplified in the coquettish dimples that came and went fascinatingly in her cheeks and her firm little rounded chin, and in the delicious uptilt of her small straight nose. Her eyes were an intense dark brown, set closely together, very large, with finely penciled brows and short, curly lashes. She had no need of powder to heighten the loveliness of her face, for her skin was a warm, creamy white that was extremely voluptuous.
Her figure was absolutely breathtaking, although she was still self-conscious enough to insist that Ray turn off the light when she was naked. She also invariably insisted upon wearing a nightie, though to be sure, his reverent fingers frequently lifted it above her hips to bare the thick, crisp, curly triangle of her exciting cunt. Her breasts were high-perched pears, set widely apart, with very wide coral areolas and delicate little nipples. Ray had discovered that they were extremely sensitive during intercourse and instantly firmed at the slightest touch of his fingers or his mouth, as if in imitation of the male erection.
Her waist was quite slim, her bellybutton wide and shallow like a jewel set in a magnificent goblet. Her thighs were perfection themselves, sleek and gradually rounding columns, lithe and muscled, with skin so flawless and smooth that one could see the delicate tracery of pale blue veins. Irene's calves were those of a showgirl, high-set and sinuous, and she had very dainty feet with beautifully tapering toes and slim, chiseled ankles. Her buttocks would have tempted a flagellant, for they had a sensual and challenging jut to them, with a sinuous cleft whose mysterious shadows would surely have lured the sodomite to venture within.
She had an adorable little birthmark, a tiny oval brown patch, high on her left inner thigh near the groin. Ray was fond of tickling it with his finger and once or twice had grown so bold as to put his lips to it, diverted for a moment from her delicious cunt whenever he dabbled in the sweet perversity of oral love.
She watched from the kitchen window as her brown-haired, sturdy young husband got into the car and drove away in the direction of Welfare Island. She poured herself another cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and blushingly smiled as she recalled the naughty promise she had made her husband about tonight.
She could not know that he would not come home that night, but would see her all the same, while enduring the most diabolical torture that any virile and adoring young husband could conceive of.
It was mid-afternoon and the heat of the sun beat down upon the little bungalow. Irene had decided to take a nap. She had two reasons for for such seeming slothfulness; first, because the heat was oppressive and sapped her energy, and because then she could stay up late tonight and wait for Ray in bed. She had fallen asleep dreaming of tonight, how she would sneak into bed before him in her nightie and lie there turned on her side, waiting for him to enter the bed. He would clear his throat, and then timidly kiss her neck and tickle her armpits, a little trick he had which invariably made her giggle and turn swiftly to kiss him hotly in welcome of his advances. Her nipples tingled at the thought of his fingers on her breasts, and her belly shivered as she anticipated the weight of his firm, lean stomach grinding against hers while his virile manhood plowed the tender furrow between her squirming thighs.
She moaned softly in her sleep, unconsciously moving her hands over her sensitive nipples as she imagined Ray performing that very action. She caught the erect nipples between her slender fingers and pulled on them, moaning again with the delicious sensation she caused. Slowly, she imagined Ray's hand abandoning one breast and descending to her girl-place (even in her dream she couldn't name that delightful part of herself) to caress the springy hairs there. If only her husband was there to see the spectacle, he would have seen Irene's hand creep down, dancing lightly over her belly and into her muff. The lips of her cunt parted as she spread her legs. Her questing fingers tantalized the wet flesh, twirling around the entrance of her slit, then inexorably drawing back to the little sentinel that stiffly cried out for attention, demanding its climactic reward. Imagining Ray's talented ministrations to her little soldier, as he called it, Irene's fingers caressed that aching flesh bud, faster ... faster, swirling around and around until her hand was just a blur hovering over her thrusting hips. Sobbing now in her restless sleep, Irene felt her orgasm coming on and instinctively thrust two fingers of her other hand into her drenched pussy, her frantic tantalizing of her clitoris never halting for a moment as she arched off the bed, straining up to meet her dream husband....
As she rose slowly back to consciousness, she dreamed she was standing on her favorite spot overlooking a nearby lake, kissing Ray as he held her tightly in his strong arms. What a lovely dream, she thought. She could even hear a bell ringing in the distance, just as she had always imagined she would in her innocent fantasies of her Prince Charming.
It rang and rang again, insistently, until she finally opened her eyes and realized that it was not a dream, but her front door.
She shook her head a few times because she was still drowsy and it was difficult to tear herself from that lovely dream. It had all seemed so real somehow. She had a kind of trembling enervation along the cords of her inner thighs, and she shivered, biting her lips at the awareness of how dependent she had become on her young husband. She, who had often slapped an overly impetuous suitor who had tried to be too free with her because of her stunning beauty. She hoped that one day they would have a child on whom she could lavish much of her love, for it was really sinful, she thought, to love Ray so much. He was all she had.
She went to the door and slowly opened it, nervously smoothing her wrinkled dress. A wiry, bespectacled Japanese gentleman stood before her. Not recognizing Judge Black's manservant, she was a little taken aback.
"You must not worry. It will be all right. I will drive you to the prison. Dr. Fenwick is looking after him. Please come now, Mrs. Hickey," the Japanese valet urged.
Irene paused only to lock the front door of the house and then hurried into the limousine waiting at the curb. Silently it rolled away toward the desolate creek in which the castle like building known as Welfare Island rose to dominate the lonely landscape.
When they arrived, the valet got out of the limousine and opened the door. "The motorboat will come for you. They know I am bringing you," he explained. Courteously he helped her down the bank and onto the boat. Two men were in it, neither of whom Irene Hickey recognized; one of them was Seamus Marmot.
At the island, the two guards led her up a set of stone stairs, and opened a heavy door, and guided her down the corridor. There a third guard was waiting.
"This way, please," he told her. He led the way down the huge hall to a metal door which, when opened, exposed a flight of narrow stone steps. It was well lighted, for the Judge had thoroughly modernized the building and had an excellent conduit and electrical system installed, along with his own ingenious accoutrements for the edification and entertainment of his influential guests. The three guards led Irene down a narrower corridor. On each side of which, at wide intervals, were heavy metal doors, each of them leading to an ingeniously furnished dungeon, or to an elegant salon equipped with every convenience for the enjoyment of carnal passion.
At the end of the long corridor and at the left, the third guard opened the door and gestured for Irene to enter. No sooner had she done so than the other two men seized her by her elbows and dragged her in, heedless of her struggles and screams.
Ray Hickey had been at work on his shift on the second floor of the building, where many of the more attractive, younger female prisoners of Welfare Island were incarcerated. At about five o'clock he was relieved by Seamus Marmot, and the brawny guard grinned and winked and jerked his thumb toward the stairway, saying, "Doc Sayers wants to see you, boy. Front and center. You lucky stiff, you!"
"What are you talking about, Seamus?"
"Huh! As if you didn't know, Ray. Why, everybody around here knows you're Doc Sayers' favorite errand boy for the nicest kinds of errands. Don't I wish I was called on for this little chore! My oh my!"
"Make sense, Seamus. What's it all about?"
"Okay, I'll tell you. Remember that snippy little tramp they picked up at the bar a couple of weeks ago and sent here for three months on a trumped up charge? Myrtle Pellis is her name if I remember right."
"Sure I remember her. She just about scratched my face off when I put her in her cell," Ray chuckled.
"That's the one! Well, Doc Fenwick just examined that little bitch, and he told Doc Sayers she could stand a good whaling. So now Doc Sayers wants you to come down and take care of it. That's why I say you're a lucky stiff. And you'd better be stiff, too, 'cause you're supposed to break her in. There's a rich customer paying a fat chunk of dough who's gonna be watching in the cell next to the one you're supposed to fuck Myrtle in. Get me?"
"One of those, huh? Well, some people get their kicks out of watching. Me, I'd rather perform," Ray Hickey chuckled and gave his sadistic colleague a broad wink.
Six months of marriage had given Ray Hickey a greater self-assurance, and to be sure, his work at the prison had forced him into taking part in many of the punishments administered to particularly attractive young women. Now that his sensuality had free rein with his beautiful bride Irene, he was, to quote his own private expression, "more pussy-conscious" than he had ever been before. And remembering the blond spitfire whose voluptuous young body he had felt struggling against his hands, and who had indeed scratched his face as he shoved her rather roughly into her cell, he began to experience a delicious anticipatory itching in his private parts.
"Don't stand there dreaming about Myrtle, boy. Hurry down to Doc Sayers and find out what she wants you to do to that little hellcat. If you need help, tell Doc Sayers I'm ready," Seamus Marmot lecherously intimated.
Ray Hickey clapped the guard on the back, affably countering, "Fat chance, Seamus! They sent for a man to do the job, not a boy," and went whistling down the stairs on his way to the superintendent of Welfare Island.
Dr. Marjorie Sayers was studying a sheaf of papers as Ray Hickey entered. She kept him waiting a moment, then put aside the papers and stared insolently at him as she remarked, "You took your time, Mr. Hickey. However, I have a task for you to perform which I hope you will execute more efficiently."
"Excuse me, Dr. Sayers. Seamus Marmot held me up a bit."
"Let me remind you that I am your superior, not Mr. Marmot. Now then, you will go to Cell D in the lower level, where you will find Myrtle. Yesterday, when Matron Matthews brought her lunch, she actually dared attack her. We can't have that, Mr. Hickey. Insubordination and mutinous conduct are immediately punishable, and as it happens, there is a buyer who has agreed to take Myrtle on parole from this institution and give her a job as servant in his household. He's an elderly man, you see, Mr. Hickey, and he wants the girl punished severely so the lesson will last once she starts to work for him. You understand?"
Ray flushed and lowered his eyes. "Yes, Dr. Sayers, I understand."
"I don't wish to hear the details. However, I am officially ordering you to give the girl a good whipping. Dr. Fenwick has just examined her and tells me that she's strong and quite able to stand a sound thrashing. However, don't mark the skin permanently. And as to the rest, you needn't report to me what you've done. You may go now, Mr. Hickey, and I trust you will carry out this order efficiently and quickly."
He gulped, nodded, and left the office of the lesbian superintendent. By now, having participated in several such scenes, Ray Hickey understood perfectly what was meant. This young prisoner was a troublemaker and had probably been purchased either for a brothel or for a private buyer who wished to have a lust-slave. Since her sentence had been a mild one for vagrancy or a similarly inconsequential charge, just enough to jail her, probation could be granted and release made at once to a responsible citizen. This was how the Syndicate operated and how Judge Austin W. Black was able to amass huge profits, which went into the coffers of the crime-linked net work. By her "order," Marjorie Sayers had given him an unqualified freedom with the beautiful but defiant prisoner: freedom to fuck!
He was remembering his beautiful wife and her whispered promise to him to be waiting tonight so they could have a "party." He only hoped that the business with Myrtle Pellis wouldn't tax his virility too much, so that he could give his lovely darling all she wanted. He'd heard that sometimes if a man got some extra pussy on the side, he wasn't quite up to snuff when it came to taking care of his home duties. Not that Irene was experienced enough to be able to tell if he was cheating, but, just the same, he didn't want to go limp on her, not with that sweet, tight little snatch of hers all ready to welcome him. The very thought of it made Ray Hickey's prick stiffen with anticipation.
He went down the stone stairway where Seamus Marmot clapped him on the back and enviously wished him luck. Descending to the lower level and going down the long corridor with its rows of steel doors, he arrived at Cell D. It was on the left side of the corridor, the next to last door. About his belt was fixed a key chain. He chose the master key to this tier of cells, inserted it in the lock, turned it and entered, letting the door clang shut behind him.
Myrtle Pellis uttered a piercing cry as she saw Ray Hickey enter the room. At eighteen, she was magnificently developed, with large breasts, a slim waist, and flaring hips. It was plain to see why she had interested prospective buyers. The buyer of Myrtle Pellis would enjoy her until he tired of her, and then the Syndicate would offer to buy her back-naturally, at a reduced price because of "depreciation"-and send her to one of the larger houses where the clientele was not so discriminating and the fees not so high as for fresh merchandise.
The cell was large, naturally soundproofed, and had only two articles of furniture in it-a whipping post and a low, wide couch, beautifully upholstered and comfortably inviting. The whipping post was in the center of the stone floor: a round wooden stake that rose about eight feet high with a metal ring set into the wood about a foot from its top. There, facing the post with her wrists corded to that ring and her body drawn up to tiptoe, Myrtle Pellis stood, her insolently pointed, enormous tits pressed hard against the unyielding wood. She was clad only in a white cotton slip and, beneath it, white nylon panties. Her legs were bare.
Her honey-colored hair was disheveled, and there were bruises on the soft pink flesh of her arms where the angry matron had gripped her after Myrtle's attack. She was about five feet seven, slim and agile, with a beautifully supple waist and deeply hollowed back. Her buttocks were broad ovals, very tightly set together, and her long thighs and sinuous calves made Ray Hickey think of the lovely litheness of his bride. Tractioned and on tiptoe as she was at the post, Myrtle's body was mouth-wateringly delineated by the clinging slip and tight diaphanous panties under it.
On the couch lay a broad black leather strap, a leather paddle, and a slim, murderously flexible rattan cane, with a curved grip for the wielder's hand.
Ray Hickey took off his guard's cap and tossed it onto the couch. Myrtle, her face turned over her shoulder, stared fearfully at him. Her nostrils dilated and shrank, and her lips were parted, but as yet she had spoken not a word. Her face was delightfully mutinous, with a turned-up nose, an insolent, small, ripe mouth, high-set cheekbones, and a high-arching forehead. She had run away from home a few months ago when her sluttish mother had remarried after having had a procession of casual lovers, all of whom had attempted to enjoy the daughter's charms on the sly. And she had seen the lust in her stepfather's eyes just before he had gone into the bedroom to claim his marital rights from her buxom, amoral mother. The next day, when her mother had gone into town to shop, her stepfather had cornered her in her room and wheedlingly tried to make love to her, squeezing her bottom and breasts, and trying to slip his hand under her dress to feel her pussy. Myrtle had kneed him in the groin and run away. She had been apprehended by one of Sheriff Dawson's deputies and brought before Judge Black as a vagrant.
The Judge's investigation had indicated the kind of home she had fled from, and he was certain that her parents would hardly press a claim to have her back. Consequently, the sheriff's deputy was dispatched to the stepfather and mother with an offer of a thousand dollars, in return for which Myrtle would be made a ward of the state ... a euphemistic term that meant she would be sold into carnal bondage. The greed of Myrtle's parents led them to haggle with the deputies, who had been authorized to raise the price to fifteen hundred dollars and not a penny more. Upon receiving that price, Myrtle's mother and her new husband cheerfully abandoned the lovely teenager.
He unbuttoned the silver buttons of his coat and laid it down on the couch while Myrtle continued to watch him with growing apprehension. He glanced back at her tethered body straining at the post, and picked up the rectangular leather paddle, considering this the best instrument for the firm, beautifully muscled, spacious ovals of that luscious bottom awaiting punishment.
"Oh no! You aren't going to whip me, are you? But it's not fair! Matron Matthews said something nasty to me and then she tried to slap me. I don't deserve to be whipped for that-she's the one who ought to be punished!" Myrtle passionately declared as she tugged uselessly at her bound wrists high above her head.
Ray Hickey did not think her comments worthy of an answer. Transferring the paddle to his left hand, he approached the shuddering teenager, set his right hand to the neck of the slip, and ripped it off her body. The sight of her almost naked loveliness, covered only by that diaphanous pair of clinging white nylon panties, made his prick harden with ferocity.
Then he put his hand to the waistband of the panties and ripped them off-and Myrtle Pellis was naked. His eyes fixed on the contracting globes of her behind as the girl ground herself against the whipping post and uttered a hoarse cry of shame and anguish: "Oh, no! Oh, please don't! I don't deserve it at all, truly I don't. I ran away because my stepfather wanted to fuck me! It's not fair, I tell you! I want to see the superintendent! You haven't any right to do this to me!"
At this point, after transferring the paddle back to his right hand, Ray decided to speak: "The superintendent is the one who had me come here to give your bottom a sound smacking, Myrtle. You've been sentenced to prison, and prisoners do not strike guards or matrons. I'm sorry, but I've got my orders."
So saying, he placed himself to the girl's left, and drawing back his right hand, swept the leather paddle across the fullest curves of both huddling pink buttocks. The sonorous crack of the polished leather implement against naked, firm young flesh made him shiver with mounting lust, which Myrtle's naked beauty had already so keenly incited.
The victim uttered a piercing cry of pain, twisted her face back toward him, and sobbingly implored, "Oh God, it hurts, it hurts! Please, please don't do it to me!"
The smooth pink flesh was instantly marked by the outline of the fustigatory implement, and Myrtle ground herself against the hard wooden post, her hazel eyes blurred with tears and opened wide in anguish.
Ray Hickey applied a second stroke, a little lower down, against both globes, and again a strident, agonized wail was wrested from the young sufferer. Seeing those marks, watching the magnificently contoured bottomcheeks of the prisoner convulsively jerk, and tighten, and then relax in the inevitable choreography of flagellation, tore away Ray Hickey's tenderness and idealistic nature, and became a kind of insidious aphrodisiac in his system that made him as unscrupulously lustful as Judge Black himself.
His arm swept down repeatedly, spacing the blows about ten seconds apart, laying a broad horizontal pattern of red splotches across both huddling bottomglobes. He then attacked each cheek in turn from right to left, starting from the tops of Myrtle's hips and descending to the bottoms of her long, supple thighs. Her shrieks and tears, her babbled and incoherent supplications for mercy, only added fuel to the flame of his inordinate and perverse lust, for by now his prick was straining viciously at the fly of his uniform trousers.
"There!" he panted, dripping with sweat, after he had given the shrieking, naked girl about thirty vigorous strokes and left her bottom furiously inflamed and a darkening red. "Maybe that will teach you not to go around hitting guards and matrons!"
He flung the paddle aside and then, taking out a jackknife from the pocket of his trousers, cut Myrtle's ropes.
Sobbing hysterically, the girl crumpled to her knees and began to rub her inflamed bottom feverishly. Ray Hickey stood above her, his face dark and twisted with desire as he drew down the zipper of his trousers and reached in to let his virile prick emerge, throbbing and swollen. It was elongated and narrow, the head a kind of singular spear point affixed to a darkly veined shaft by a narrow, circumcisional groove, and it was as turgid as it had ever been when the young guard made love to his beautiful wife.
He stood for a moment contemplating the weeping, half-fainting girl. She was crouched on her knees with her head pressed against the whipping post, her slim fingers still frantically rubbing the reddened, swollen, pain-seared bottomglobes. With a muttered oath, he lifted Myrtle Pellis up by the armpits and dragged her over to the couch, flinging her down upon her back.
"Oh no! Oh Lord no! What are you going to do-oh please-Mom, help me-Owwww-Oh don't-I don't want to-Eeeyeowwwww-Oh please!"
For Ray Hickey had yanked apart her struggling thighs, clamped her chafed wrists with his left hand, and pinned them behind her back, his right hand cupping one of her large, bouncing tits. His handsome face was contorted with a demoniac lust as he grasped his throbbing cock with his free hand, waggling it before her frightened eyes. "I'm going to teach you how to behave with a man, my little jailbird. You're going to get what you've been asking for, waving your pert little buttocks in my face." With that, he worked the blood-filled head of his prick between the soft pink lips of her vulva and savagely thrust forward, making no allowance for her virgin state as he had with his lovely wife Irene. That one thrust burst through the hymenal seal of her maidenhead, causing the poor girl to faint both with the pain of his penetration and the searing, agonizing pain of her welted bottomcheeks being crushed into the couch.
In the last cell at the end of that very corridor, next to the one in which Ray Hickey had carried out his perfidious orders, Irene Hickey stood transfixed with an incredulous horror and stupefaction. She was fully clothed, tied with her back against the wall of her cell, her wrists pulled high above her head and locked into metal gyves that were fixed into the wall. She couldn't imagine why she had been brought here and restrained in such a manner. If only Ray were nearby, she thought. This must be some sort of horrible mistake. Her shock became even more unimaginable when a large panel slid aside, revealing a one-way glass, five feet square, that enabled her to see all that was transpiring in the next cell. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was Ray who was whipping the naked blond and then fucking her. When she saw her husband's handsome face twisted into that infernal mask of sadistic lust, she nearly swooned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ray Hickey, after flogging and fucking Myrtle, had gone back to report to Dr. Marjorie Sayers that his assignment had been completed. She received him impassively and told him that he might have supper and then take a nap, from which he would be awakened at about ten o'clock, for she wished him to take over the shift on the lower level of the prison. His relief, she indicated, would come at midnight, and then, she added, her face expressionless, "You'll be able to be with your wife. I'm sure you'll like that, Mr. Hickey."
He ate in the kitchen, which was presided over by a fat woman named Kate Drummond. He had far better fare than most of the prisoners, though it must be said that the attractive captives on Welfare Island were given plenty of good food to keep them physically fit-for reasons that had nothing to do with their eventual rehabilitation back into society!
Seamus Marmot was there with him, and plied him with excited questions about his experiences with the blond rebel. Ray found himself blushingly relating his sexual conquest of the attractive prisoner, and relishing the plaudits of the older guard.
Supper over with, he went to a little room on the first floor toward the end of the hall at the right, in which there was a comfortable bed and couch, an armchair, and ample reading material for the off-duty guards. He stretched out and fell fast asleep. He was awakened by someone jerking at his shoulder and urging him to get up. Sleepily he sat up, blinking his eyes until he was accustomed to the light. He yawned and then followed the man-Seamus Marmot he realized through the haze of sleep-down the stairs to the lower level. "I've got some business in one of these cells, Ray," the guard chuckled, "but, shucks, I just don't have your luck, seems like. Dr. Sayers just told me to peel the girl down and get her ready for an examination. Guess Dr. Archie is gonna look her over and see if she's fit to fuck." He giggled and wiped a stream of spittle away from his lips.
"Can I see who you've got in there?" Ray asked, his sensual curiosity by now recovered after his bout with Myrtle.
But the big black man shook his head. "Sorry, Ray, can't let you. Doc Sayers' orders, not mine. I just do my job. You know how it is. Anyhow, no use your fretting, neither of us is gonna get this cute little piece of ass anyway. Besides, you already had your share. Don't be greedy, man. After you get done, you get to go on home and have yourself a time with that nifty little broad you got married to, so don't be feeling sorry for yourself just 'cause you can't look over a new piece of snatch." Clapping Ray on the back, Seamus strolled toward the cell door, opened it and went inside, clanging the door shut. Since the room was soundproof, there was no way for Ray to hear what was transpiring within.
A few minutes before midnight, as Ray concluded his monotonous pacing back and forth along the narrow corridor of this level just below the main floor of the building, Seamus Marmot and Jason Carpenter came down the stairs. Ray brightened, "Hi there, you guys! I'm sure ready to quit this shift, I can tell you. Little Reenie's waiting for me."
"That so?" Seamus Marmot said tersely. Glancing at Jason, he growled, "Let's get him in there!"
At this, both men seized the astounded Ray Hickey by the elbows and propelled him forward to the last cell on the left side of the corridor, opened the door, and pushed him inside.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" he stormed. But he got no answer. They seized him and dragged him to the middle of the room where a tall, round stake was set into the stone floor, very much like the one to which Myrtle had been pinioned when Ray had flogged and ravished her earlier that night. Cursing and struggling, Ray found himself helpless to overcome the combined strength of Seamus and the tall, heavily muscled Jason Carpenter. In a few moments he found himself with his arms drawn behind his back and tethered tightly to the stake, a rope lashed around his waist and one over his chest, and finally one just below his knees around the post.
With a lewd chuckle, Seamus bent and dragged down the zipper of Ray's trousers, completely opening his fly. "Just in case you get a real hard-on, Ray boy, won't do to go off in your new uniform. Doc Sayers'll make you pay to have it cleaned if you do." His laughter was a bellow of satisfaction at his own wittiness. "Come on, Jase, let's go get some poontang of our own in town, huh? I hear tell over at the bar on Main Street, Sheriff Dawson once in a while lets a new hooker try her tricks till he gets the word from the Judge to put her in the hoosegow and send her out here. Me, I like my pussy when it's fresh, and not used up like after it's in this place. Let's go!"
Ray heard the door clang behind him and strained frenziedly at his bonds, but in vain. He was aghast at what had been done to him, and he racked his brains to figure out a reason, but he just couldn't think of any.
He was facing the wall, on the other side of which was the victim Seamus Marmot had been ordered to prepare for a medical examination by Dr. Fenwick. What in hell was this all about anyhow? He was supposed to go off duty and go back home. Reenie would be waiting, and he was right in the mood for another piece, after knocking off that cute little hotheaded Myrtle.
Suddenly he heard a click as though a speaker had been turned on, and then he stiffened with horror. There was the sound of a girl sobbing as if her heart would break. It was so real it seemed to be right here in the cell with him, but it wasn't. She was really in anguish, he thought, whoever she was! Who was she and what had they done to her? Or what were they going to do? Again he tugged at his bonds, but all he managed to do was chafe his wrists and make his muscles ache in a useless cause. He finally surrendered and told himself that he was going to have it out with Dr. Sayers, having a stunt like this pulled without a word of explanation. He had done his job, he had come back here late on a Saturday night just to help out, and this was the thanks he had gotten.
"Oh please! Oh help me, someone!"
Ray Hickey froze. That voice ... that soft, sweet, tremulous quality to it ... there was something about it that made his blood run cold. No, it was fantastic, impossible. Of course it couldn't be "Oh, won't anyone help me? It hurts me like this. What have I done? Why are they doing this to me? I want to go home-oh, poor Ray, I won't be there when he gets home-and he won't know where to find me-oh help me, someone, help me!"
"Jesus Christ!" Ray shrieked aloud. For the voice he had heard could only belong to his beautiful Irene!
And then, as in a hideous nightmare that was all too real, he heard another click, and suddenly the wall in front of him slid away revealing a rectangular panel of glass. A glass panel through which he could see clearly ... and with terrible and paralyzing detail.
It was Irene. She was stark naked, and her body formed a kind of living hammock. She was on her back, at about waist-height to a standing man. There were cords at her ankles and at her wrists, drawn out to pegs set in the walls, so that she was suspended in the air entirely by her lour limbs, her body tractioned to the utmost. The creamy, ivory skin of her naked body, the thick black curls of her cunt, the magnificent pear-like turrets of her boobs, the yawning chasm her spread thighs made of that intimate nook gleamed dully with perspiration. He could almost smell her fear.
She was blindfolded, a black bandanna tied over her eyes and knotted tightly at the back of her head.
Ray did not know that, in her office, Dr. Marjorie Sayers had pressed two buttons in a panel inside her desk, turning on the camouflaged public address system that connected both cells, and sliding out the stone section of the wall in favor of the one-way glass. Thus, Ray Hickey would be able to see and hear everything that went on in the cell beyond him ... but conversely Irene could neither see nor hear her husband.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ray's eyes bulged as he heard the sound of a key opening the door of that chamber of horrors next to his. He saw the metal door swing open, and watched as Judge Austin W. Black and Dr. Archibald Fenwick entered and closed it behind them.
Dr. Fenwick wore sandals and a white intern's blouse and trousers, under which he was stark naked. Likewise the Judge, naked under his favorite silk robe and matching sandals. Dr. Fenwick, squinting behind his thick-lensed spectacles, carried a black bag, which he now placed on a metal footstool near the door. Then he rubbed his hands and glanced at the Judge, remarking in an oily voice, "Really, Austin, this is a charming specimen!"
"It is indeed," Judge Black chuckled. "She's to have special treatment, Archie. You see, she's not a regular convict like the others. She's the brand-new bride of one of our young guards, a very personable fellow, but unfortunately a little dense. Got himself into quite a mess, that young Mr. Hickey."
"Judge Black! In Christ's name, I'm here, I'm here!" Ray bellowed at the top of his voice, straining at his bonds. But the sound of his voice only reverberated back to him, mockingly echoing off the stone walls of the cell in which he was tied, forced to watch the degradation of his bride by two perverts.
It was as if he had not even spoken, for of course the sound was not conveyed into the next cell, thanks to the ingenious electronic engineering which the Judge himself had arranged for just such intimate little sessions as this.
"You see, we expect our guards to be models of propriety. After all, we ought really to have nothing but matrons here. But sometimes you need a strong young man to do work that a woman can't do," the Judge was explaining to the smirking physician. "But when we do have to hire a man, we screen him pretty well, Archie. And so it shocks me to think that one of our new guards, especially a man just married to such a gorgeous little piece of ass as this you see before you, would play around with some of the prisoners just because he has the unfair advantage of being alone with them."
"You don't say, Austin! Tsk, tsk! He certainly should have known better," the fat doctor lisped. His speech was unctuous and his voice mellow, but with an affectatious and almost childish mannerism of slurring and accenting. "I take it, then, Austin, that this is by way of punishment for the actions of the young man. It does seem such a pity, though, if she's not a prisoner."
"That's true. But in a way I'm doing them both a favor. Ray is going to learn a good lesson not to get himself involved with the pretty bitches he has to guard here. Do you know that after he whipped one of our eighteen-year-old vagrants, he actually went ahead and raped her?"
"No!" Dr. Fenwick breathed. "My, my, you just can't trust anyone nowadays, can you, Austin? Well now, what do you want me to do to Mrs. Hickey?"
"I want you to give her a complete gynecological examination. I want to have a look at her uterus and the cervix, just to make sure she can have babies. I want her thoroughly stretched and lighted up, and poked out so we know what makes her tick. Then maybe we can give Ray a few tips about her."
Again Ray shouted until he thought his vocal cords would shatter. His face was red and swollen as he lunged madly against the cords which bound him to the post. But the two perverts in the next room went on tauntingly discussing his wife without the slightest concern over his nearby presence.
Ray wanted to protest, to tell the Judge that Dr. Sayers had ordered him to flog and then ravish Myrtle, and that he had only carried out those orders. It wasn't fair! He ground his teeth savagely, and again lunged at the bonds, but they had been tied much too expertly to allow even the slightest freedom. Panting, sweating, his eyes bloodshot and dilated, he stared through the glass panel at the sight unfolding before him, powerless to avert it.
Hearing this ironically casual discussion of her helpless, naked body, and of her husband, Irene Hickey raised her head, her mouth gaping in a wild cry of terrified shame and anguish: "J-Judge Black--what are you going to do to me? What are you saying about Ray? Please let me down, my legs and arms hurt so terribly, and I'm naked-naked-oh please, it isn't right-I'm a decent girl-I haven't done a thing-please don't hurt me, please!"
"We haven't the least malice toward you, my dear," Judge Black purred, "but your impetuous young husband has to be taught a lesson. Just think, you've only been married six months and he's already cheating on you. Why, that young rogue has sneaked off into the corners of a couple of our cells and, would you believe it, screwed some of the prettiest girls we've ever had sentenced here. I should know, I sentenced them myself. Now I should think that with a girl like you in bed, Ray wouldn't be looking around for any other brand of pussy."
"I don't believe it! It's not true-he loves me-he certainly wouldn't go with any other woman-please, let me down, let me down, put some clothes on me, for God's sake!" Irene's voice broke into tearful sobs as she writhed and squirmed in midair.
The play of the muscles along her thighs and calves was fascinating to both men. Their eyes blazed with an unholy lust as they watched her magnificent creamy buttocks contract, exposing glimpses of the adorable pink cleft of her virgin asshole. For Irene Hickey, though wed six months to her virile husband, retained two of her maidenheads: her mouth and anus. Tonight they would be sacrificed to the sadistic lust of the ruler of Welfare Island, and his perverse medical advisor.
"Archie, I'd like you to examine Irene's quim. Tell me what you think about her clitoris and what degree of sensitivity she's likely to have," the Judge drawled, clapping the doctor on the back.
Dr. Fenwick walked calmly between Irene Hickey's widely spread thighs, while in the other cell Ray Hickey shrieked and foamed at the mouth in his delirium: "You dirty son of a bitch, don't you dare touch her! Let go of her, or I'll break your fat neck, you dirty queer! Judge, Judge, listen to me, this is a terrible mistake-whatever I did to those girls was done on orders, and you know it! You've got no right to treat my wife this way, you dirty bastard, you scum."
Dr. Archibald Fenwick placed his soft fingers on the insides of Irene's creamy thighs, and at once the blindfolded brunette uttered a choking cry. "Oh no, don't ... don't touch me. I'm so ashamed! My God, Judge, don't let him do this to me. I don't deserve this, and I don't believe that Ray did what you said. I can't believe it!"
"Now that's a loyal little wife for you," Austin W. Black purred sadistically. "But you see, dear, that's a very funny thing for you to say since we know you've only recently watched some of your husband's little extramarital fun and games. And now we're going to have to provide a little lesson on how to be a real sexy wife who'll keep her husband in bed with her where he belongs from now on. Proceed, Archie."
The doctor's fingers moved toward the furry cleft of Irene Hickey's cunt, and Ray shrieked aloud, his face red and twisted with agony, as he saw them graze the delicate pink petals of Irene's love cleft. Frantically, the naked girl twisted and arched her body in midair, trying desperately to evade the sullying and obscene touches of the fat doctor. And then she uttered a piercing cry; his right forefinger had just probed inside her cunthole, and was attacking the dainty little nodule of her clitoris, rubbing it slowly back and forth, pressing it back into the moist cowl of protective pussyflesh, drawing convulsive squirmings from the shamed, crimson-faced and weeping young woman.
"Quite a good amount of clitoral development, Austin," he pronounced. "Not abnormal in the least, but quite sensitive. You can see for yourself how she's jerking about. I'd say that intercourse with concentration on the clitoris would bring about a very satisfactory orgasm. But of course I'll need a speculum to make a thorough examination, as you suggest."
"By all means, Archie. Use whatever you need to make sure that Reenie's built for fucking," Judge Black gloated.
Mad with shame and powerless rage, Ray struggled at the post in the other room while he saw and heard what was taking place. He watched the bespectacled doctor withdraw his forefinger, only to tickle the tender perineum of the sobbing and squirming girl. Then he delicately prodded the puckering lips of Irene Hickey's virgin asshole, which produced a piercing shriek of indescribable humiliation and shame: "Eeeyarrrhhhh! Oh take your finger away from there. Please, Judge, don't let him shame me like this. I'm so ashamed, I want to die! Please take it away!"
"Before you try the speculum, Archie," Judge Black proposed, "let's see what a little feathering will do for this sweet piece of creamy-skinned cuke-meat. Did you remember to bring one along in your medical bag?"
"Oh my goodness yes, Austin," Dr. Archibald Fenwick said, giggling like a woman. He scurried back to the black bag, opened it and took out the long, curly, fleecy ostrich plume, then returned to his post between Irene Hickey's thighs. The plume began to glide along the insides of those ivory columns, which shook and flexed and shuddered violently while Irene whimpered, turning her face this way and that, lifting her head, trying to see through the bandanna, and constantly imploring, in the most tearful and stammeringly anguished words, a reprieve from this atrocious assault on her modesty.
As the ostrich feather began to glide over Irene's inner thighs, and then capriciously rasp over her bellybutton, the naked, blindfolded girl groaned and sobbed unceasingly, her fingers clawing the air and her body shaking like a veritable living hammock. In the other cell, his eyes glazed and bulging, her husband watched this nightmarish phantasmagoria that he was powerless to avert.
The public address system enabled him to hear Judge Black's taunting commentary to Dr. Archibald Fenwick, and with a kind of guilty anguish, Ray realized that he had been neatly and diabolically trapped. In the pursuit of his duties as a guard at Welfare Island, he knew perfectly well that he had been ordered to carry out not only the flogging of certain obstinate and rebellious young prisoners, but also to violate them ... yet now this had been turned against him.
"This young woman is quite sensitive, I'd say, Austin," the fat medico presently remarked as he halted the tickling of the ostrich feather over Irene's shivering body. "She's a very cooperative specimen and I should say that her husband is a very fortunate young man."
"Indeed he is," the Judge cynically retorted, "because he has her in bed every night. Yet that greedy young scoundrel isn't content with such a lovely piece of ass as Irene, but has to go sniffing around for all the pussy he can find on the side. That's why, Archie, I believe that he really wouldn't object if just once he shares the wealth with less fortunate mortals. Now, before you pursue your examination with those instruments you brought along in your black bag, I want to ask Reenie a few personal questions. I think the answers will be most edifying in advance of your thorough inspection of her many little love secrets, Archie my boy."
With this, the Judge turned to the footstool on which the black bag reposed and picked up a little birch switch, from which the bark had been peeled off. It was about twenty inches long, tapering into a very thin and flexible end. Grasping this in his right hand, he took his stance between Irene Hickey's straddled naked legs and, posing his left palm on her shuddering belly, purred: "Now then, my dear, in your own best interest, let me advise you to answer my questions as truthfully as you can, or I am afraid that we shall have to use more persuasive means."
"Oh God, oh Judge Black," the naked woman sobbed, "for God's sake, why are you doing this to me? Please let me down, these ropes are cutting into my limbs so horribly, I can't stand it much longer! Oh please, I've done nothing wrong. I'm just Ray's wife. He loves me, and I love him! It's shameful of you and that other man to keep me tied like this without any clothes on. It's so dreadfully shameful!"
"No more shameful, Reenie, than that fact that your husband has been playing around with these little tramps who were sent to prison to be reformed and not to be fucked the way Ray has done to them!"
"Ohhh! I don't believe that! I can't! He loves me. He's a decent man who wouldn't do a thing like that!"
"Oh no? Archie, didn't we bring along a certain canister of film and a movie projector?" The Judge turned to his cohort with an ingratiating smile.
"Fine. Why don't you set it up like a good fellow, Archie, and I'll take Reenie's blindfold off and let her watch for herself how her husband spends his time when he's being paid to guard the prisoners."
Ray felt beads of sweat begin to stand out on his forehead. His throat went suddenly dry at the mention of the film. If only he could get into the next cell and tell his darling Reenie that he had been ordered to do what he had done. None of what was on the film meant that he didn't love her; it had nothing to do with that. It was his job and the job was making money for them and giving them comforts in the little farmhouse. Oh God, what would she think of him? What film were they going to show?
Meanwhile Dr. Fenwick had set up the screen at the door of the cell and placed the projector on another footstool. There was a power generator into which the projector was plugged and Judge Black now carefully untied the black bandanna from Irene's eyes and whisked it off. Standing behind the pinioned brunette, he put both hands to the back of her lovely head and tilted it up saying, "Why, this is as good as a loge seat in our little arena, darling. You're going to get a private preview of a very tasty little stag movie that many more of my important guests are going to enjoy next weekend. Start it up, Archie!"
"Noooo! You dirty bastard! Stop it, Reenie! Don't pay any attention to it. I had to do it. They made me. It was my job!" Ray Hickey shrieked at the top of his voice as he lunged against the cords binding him to the wooden stake. But only the echo of his hoarse cries came back into his buzzing ears, as with beating heart and throbbing temples, he saw the doctor flick a switch, and then heard the whir of the projector. He suddenly saw on the screen a reprise of his activity with young Myrtle Pellis.
Irene Hickey uttered a startled cry as she saw the movie beginning with the scene in which Ray opened the door, closed it and then walked toward the young prisoner who had been tethered with her wrists dragged high above her head and fixed in the metal ring set in the whipping post. She saw her beloved Ray again draw back the leather paddle and direct it across Myrtle's naked, huddling bottomglobes. She saw the girl's body contract and jerk under the infernal kiss of an instrument which did not cut the skin, but which inflicted unspeakable burning torment upon tender flesh.
Irene was sobbing wildly: "Oh no-I don't want to see it again. Once was enough. Turn it off. Oh my God-please have mercy-it can't be Ray-I know it isn't-oh God, please have pity on us both-!"
"It's no trick, my dear," Judge Black hoarsely proclaimed. He wanted so badly to fuck this woman. From where he stood he could gaze down on her panting ivory tits and see the thick black triangle of her cunt. He could smell, too, with the nostrils of a connoisseur, the flavorful aroma of Irene Hickey's sweat. Under his bathrobe his prick was gigantic with lust.
"You'd better watch, you pretty little bitch, or I'll use a switch on your bare titties," he threatened. Supporting her head with his left hand now, he lifted up the little birch switch and flicked it first against her right nipple, then the left.
"Eeeowwuuu! Oh God! Oh don't hurt me like that! I haven't done anything!" Irene screamed as her body jerked in the air.
"Then keep your eyes open and watch until the movie is over," he panted.
Ray Hickey was bathed in sweat, and his muscles were aching as he watched the film unfold, missing not a single detail. The camera zoomed in as he flogged and then fucked her, driving his cock into her pussy as hard as he could despite her cries of anger and shame. The scene continued, the camera an unwavering eye that watched as he pulled his prick from her cunt and jammed it into her mouth until he'd come.
He closed his eyes when the last of the film was finally run off, and uttered a sobbing groan. What would he say to Reenie when he came face to face with her? How could he dare tell her that he had seen not only that film, but also what those bastards were doing to her?
"Well, you've seen it for yourself, Reenie, even though you refused to believe your eyes when you saw it actually happening," Judge Black chuckled. "Now, we're going to start our little question-and-answer game. I'll ask the questions, you give the answers, and if you don't you'll feel this switch over those nice tits of yours. And maybe between your legs, too. Archie, get the speculum ready and put it up against her pussy!"
"Nooooo! You goddamn bastards! Let my wife alone, you dirty cocksuckers!" Ray Hickey bellowed, mad with frustrated agony and shame. And once again, only the booming echo of his frenzied cries came back to him, while in the next cell the two men pursued their relentless dalliance with his helpless wife.
The ostrich feather lay abandoned on Irene Hickey's belly, ready to inflict its diabolical itch again as desired. Meanwhile, Doctor Archibald Fenwick had taken out of his black bag a gleaming metal instrument, which looked very much like an egg beater with a wooden handle. Stepping between Irene Hickey's distended legs, the medico applied his left thumb and forefinger to the twitching pink lips of her vulva and with his right hand pressed the oval end of the implement against the widened orifice.
The touch of the cold metal made Irene's body jerk convulsively, and she lifted her head and uttered a piercing scream. "Oh don't do that! What are you going to do to me? Please, don't hurt me. Please, Judge, don't let him, don't let him! Ray, Ray, come help me. I'm afraid. Where are you?"
"I'm here. Goddamn those bastards, Reenie!" Ray Hickey shrieked as again he flung himself against the ropes that pinned him to the stake.
"Just keep it poised right there where it's handy," Judge Black said hostilely, for by now he was at the point of losing all self-control. "All right, Reenie, here comes the first question. You've been married about six months, haven't you?"
"Why-yes-yes-oh God, don't let him hurt me, please, I haven't done anything! Don't let him touch me there!" Irene whimpered. Her entire body was contorted as she summoned all her strength to defend herself. Her neck ached from the strain of lifting her head, and her wrists and ankles were cruelly chafed from the cords that kept her aloft and on her back, placed strategically waist-high to both her perverted torturers.
"If you answer all my questions honestly, Reenie, Archie won't stick that thing into your cunt, I promise," Judge Black purred, while his left hand continued to press against Irene's soft neck to keep her head erect. In his right hand the devilish little switch flourished, ready to strike like an adder. "Now then, how often does Ray fuck you every week? Three or four times a week? More? I want the truth, you lovely little bitch!"
"Oh God! How can you be so unspeakably cruel?
I'm a decent g-g-girl, Judge Black. I-ohhhh nooo! Eeeee!! Oh take it out of me, it's tearing me to pieces! Have mercy! Make him take it out of me!"
"Take it out of you where, honey?" Judge Black mockingly queried.
"Ohhh please! Out of me! It's ripping me! It's tearing me! Make him take it out of me!" Irene Hickey screamed again as her hips lunged and twisted in the air.
For Doctor Fenwick had very adroitly pressed home the eggbeater end of his medical instrument until it had entered the vaginal sheath. There he left it. his thumb on the little lever that would open the steel wands and distend and stretch the tender cavern of her sensitive cunthole.
"You really will have to be more explicit," Judge Black drawled. "From where do you want him to remove it, Reenie? Answer me!" Lifting his right hand, he brought the switch down with a cruel whisk across both her heaving breasts.
Irene screamed. "Out of my spot, out of ... you know, down there!" she gasped, as again she jerked and squirmed violently.
"My, such a modest little darling! A married girl ought to have a better vocabulary than that. Do you mean out of your pussy, or your snatch, or your cunt, or your quim, or your hot little twat, Reenie?" the white-haired Judge greedily mouthed. "Answer me!" And once again the switch darted down to flick over the ivory turrets, biting over both tender nipples.
Irene Hickey's body described a living arc as, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping in a strident hysterical shriek, she assented: "Yes, yes, only have him take it out of me there. It hurts! Oh, Ray, save me!"
"All right ... now you're being a little more frank with us, honey, but you'd better try a little harder to do better than that. We know now where the speculum is. But you still haven't answered my original question. How many times a week does Ray fuck you? I'm going to count to five, and if you haven't answered by then Archie is going to open up the speculum and stretch your cunt a yard wide!"
In the other cell, Ray Hickey had bitten his lips until they bled; his eyes were bulging, and his face was crimson as he twisted and jerked himself uselessly against the unyielding cords. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he was panting hoarsely. Strangely, he thought, his prick was erect, and because Seamus Marmot had already dragged down his zipper, his cock had emerged in all its violent virility. This was the supreme twist Judge Austin W. Black had so fiendishly anticipated. That in watching his own wife put to sexual torture, the helpless young guard would be sexually aroused against every shred of moral decency and manner, and would thus be coated with the same brush of perverse and obscene lust that tainted the fat doctor and the Judge of Catayunga's Municipal Court!
"All right, Reenie," the Judge resumed, "one ... two ... three ... you'd better hurry ... four-"
"Oh no, wait, don't do it to me, don't have him do it to me," Irene Hickey screamed, as she tried to twist her face around to implore the Judge. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you! Just don't have him open that horrible thing inside of me!"
"Speak up, then, because Archie is getting impatient," Judge Black demanded.
Irene Hickey closed her eyes and her body shook with sobs as she forced herself to stammer: "He-he-makes-love to me almost every-n-n-night ... oh my God, now won't you let me go? Take that horrid metal thing out of me, please!"
"I don't blame Ray at all for wanting to fuck you every night, you lovely bitch," Judge Black crooned, as he began to flick the little switch here and there over Irene's naked tits, waist, tender sides, making her squeal and sob and wriggle in the most salacious way. "Archie, this Ray fellow must be quite a stud, what with fucking Reenie here practically every night and still having some juice left for our prisoners. The man must be a satyr!"
"He certainly must be, Austin. Shall I open the speculum now?"
"Oh nooooo!" Irene shrieked, as she lifted her head and stared at the grinning medico. "Please take it out of me. I'll tell you anything, only please don't torture me, don't hurt me, I'm so sensitive there! That cold metal's stretching me awfully!"
"Reenie, don't give in to those goddamn bastards!" Ray Hickey bellowed from the next cell.
"Don't worry, Reenie. When you tell the truth, you don't get punished. Now here's the next question, and pay careful attention," the Judge continued. He ran his left hand affectionately over her perspiring forehead, and then grabbed her thick ponytail and yanked it viciously, making her cry out with terror and pain. "Has he ever put his cock into you anyplace else besides where Archie has the speculum right now?"
"I-I don't know what you mean, Judge. Please let me down. I'm going to faint, it hurts me so. Please let me down and let me put some clothes on."
"Archie, open it up just a little," the Judge commanded.
Licking his drooling mouth, the doctor touched the spring. Instantly Irene naked body wrenched violently against the bonds, her head rose up again, her eyes became glassy, and her mouth opened in a hoarse, wordless, inhuman shriek.
The oval end of the implement had expanded about a quarter of its total diameter, and the steel wands had forced apart the tender pink vaginal cavern until Irene felt as if she were being stretched and ripped asunder. There was, to be sure, no such danger, but so sensitive was the area in which the speculum was being applied, and so aggravated was her nervous threshold because of the long cat-and-mouse game the two perverts had played with her, that it felt like all the tortures of the lowest region of the inferno. Besides, the thing was cold.
"I told you that you have to speak out frankly, honey," the Judge said solicitously, making a motion for the bald medico to restore the speculum to its original size. Irene shuddered and her head sank back. She burst into hysterical sobs at the easing of this unspeakable dilation of her vaginal cavity. "All right, I'll give you one more chance, Reenie. Has Ray ever put his cock anywhere except between your naked legs, right where that speculum is now? Answer me quickly, or you'll really get it good!"
"Oh no! Oh my God, no! Don't make me talk about such things, it's not decent. We're married. He hasn't-"
"He hasn't put it into your mouth or into that dainty little asshole between the cheeks of that delicious butt of yours, has he, Reenie?" the Judge persisted.
Ray Hickey was foaming at the mouth now, and his chest was heaving violently as he struggled with the ropes that would not yield. He was mouthing unintelligible curses; he was shouting prayers for salvation; he was imploring his beautiful wife to hold out against those fiends. But no one saw him and no one heard him.
"Well, well, well, Archie, what do you know? She still has two virginities. Now then, Reenie, the last question ... pay very close attention, darling, 'cause otherwise that speculum is going to open up as far as it will go and you'll think that sweet little snatch of yours has been torn into four!" the Judge warned. "If we let you go, will you let us put our cocks in your mouth and asshole to punish Ray for his being such a naughty boy and fucking other girls instead of you? Quickly now!"
"Oh God, no, no, how can you be so filthy, so horrible, so cruel! I won't-oh God! What are you going to do? Oh please-Eeeeeyeeeowwwwuuyyahhhww!" Her body jerked and twisted frenziedly in the air as the doctor pressed the lever home and the speculum expanded to its full diameter inside her tender cunthole.
Her mad, screeching clamor made both men shudder with overwhelming lust. At Judge Black's sign, Doctor Fenwick at last closed the speculum, and Irene shuddered and moaned and whimpered, bathed in sweat and tears, almost fainting with the extraordinarily savage martyrdom of her tender womb.
"Well?" Judge Black bent over her contorted sweat-bathed face, the switch uplifted over her breasts. "What's your answer?"
"Yes, anything-I swear, I can't stand any more-oh Ray-forgive me-I can't stand it-do anything you want but don't hurt me there. I'll do it, oh take it away, oh God, yes!" Irene babbled.
And then, mad with horror and disbelief in the next cell, Ray Hickey saw the two men strip naked and, each in turn standing next to her head, pose his turgid cock over the naked young woman's panting mouth, so that she had but to turn her head back and forth to take each prick in turn.
Judge Black twined his fingers in the lustrous black strands of Irene's hair and yanked her head around to face him. He clutched his rock-hard prick in his other hand and stroked his victim's clenched lips with the throbbing head. Furious at her disobedience, following so quickly on the heels of her sobbing acceptance of his magnanimous offer. Judge Black let go of his aching cock and plugged Irene's nostrils closed. As soon as she parted her lips to gasp for air, the Judge thrust his hips forward, forcing his rampant erection into her mouth. He cruelly tilted her head back so that he could push his tool down her throat, delighting as she gagged and struggled against his imprisoning hands.
"Now, my dear Reenie," Judge Black hissed, "I want you to lick and suck my cock as if your life depended on it, which it just might since you had the audacity to defy me after you so sweetly agreed to my terms for your release."
Choking back her sobs, Irene tentatively licked at the solid mass that filled her mouth. When the Judge pulled back so that only the head of his turgid prick was still encased in her trembling mouth, Irene sucked and licked at it, mimicking the actions her beloved husband used on her when he worked his mouth between her thighs. Never, though, had she thought to be performing a similar act on a male organ, especially one not belonging to Ray. Even he, the one man who could lay claim to her unexplored oral cavity, had not pressured her to perform this intensely personal act.
Grimly, though, she set about working her mouth over the Judge's hot flesh, knowing that he would not free her until she had followed through on her promise, coerced though it had been. She slowly explored the length of his prick as it shuttled back and forth in her mouth, his hips controlling the movement since her head was held in place by his gnarled hands. When just the tip lay poised between her lips, Irene explored it with her tongue, probing the slit she found there as if she wanted to penetrate him as he was penetrating her. She swirled her tongue around the tip again, encircling the velvety flesh of the mushroom head, sucking in a mouthful and then opening her mouth as he thrust his length back in again. Faster and faster he thrust, pushing his hardness down her throat, and then dragging it along her tongue only to thrust back in again. On each exiting trip, she swirled her tongue around the head, trying with all her newfound skill to urge him toward his orgasm, afraid to think about what he'd do to her if she failed in this heinous task. Without warning, Judge Black growled deep in his throat and furiously thrust forward, his sperm jetting out in hot spurts as he pushed deeper, deeper....
Irene, horrified at finding her mouth full of his thick eruption, tried desperately to swallow it, knowing she had no other choice. Before she could choke down the last of it, Dr. Fenwick grabbed her head and turned it to face his own shorter, but thicker erection. Her mouth once again full of aging male meat, Irene barely noticed the difference in thickness and length of this tool compared to the other. She gagged as her nose was pressed against the sweat-damp cockhairs of the obese doctor. His sour scent filled her nostrils, as she was once again forced to breathe only through her nose. Desperately she struggled to lick and suck this disgusting man to orgasm quickly, longing to be free from his bloated body. She forced her aching lips to form a tight seal around his girth as she sucked him, moving her tongue up and down his length when she could. Luckily, the added stimulation of watching the Judge being sucked off by this formerly innocent young bride was too much for this less refined sadist, and he spurted into Irene's determined mouth before many minutes had passed.
When the last shudder of his orgasm had passed, Doctor Fenwick cradled Irene's panting, snaking, shuddering body in his arms while Judge Black deftly cut the cords that had supported her wrists and ankles. Irene was then made to kneel on all fours on a low bench on the other side of the cell. While Judge Black stood before her and grasped her ponytail with his left hand, tilting up her trembling chin with his right, she was obliged to again suck his cock while behind her, panting, his face florid with his ignoble lust, Doctor Fenwick opened up the cheeks of that ivory bottom to expose the dainty puckering fissure of Irene's virgin asshole and took her only remaining maidenhead, which her own husband had not even dared to think of profaning. Next, Irene was compelled to repeat the same degrading services as Judge Black thrust himself deeply into her rectal sheath while Doctor Fenwick made her perform her newfound oral talents on his limp and well-greased organ.
Seeing this, Ray Hickey ashamedly felt his own passion rise blindingly, obliterating all thought of the romantic love he had for his beautiful young wife. And watching as a corrupted voyeur, he felt his own seed spurt forth, drained from him by the sight of the depraved tableau that took place beyond that one-way glass.
This was the devious method of Judge Austin W. Black. By his pernicious means of blackmail, he had now taken Ray Hickey's beautiful wife, and at the same time had a stranglehold on the young guard to force him to be the tool of his own lecherous and criminal pursuits. Ray and Irene Hickey had indeed become slaves of Welfare Island!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was Sunday afternoon, the day after Ray Hickey had been compelled to watch his wife undergoing sexual torment and violation by Judge Black and Dr. Fenwick. The young couple had been sent home after the Judge had ordered them brought to Dr. Marjorie Sayers' private office, had the door locked behind him, and then interviewed them both for nearly half an hour. Shamefaced, eyes downcast, Irene Hickey hadn't even dared look at her husband, while he had acted in almost the same guilty manner. Each of them would now resume their lives together, but it could never be the same as it had been during that sweet six months of honeymoon rapture. Each of them had discovered the meaning of lust, and their physical desire for each other would be warped by that knowledge. At the end of the interview, each knew with a kind of sickening realization that Judge Austin W. Black would have the power to summon either or both of them back to Welfare Island for a "command performance."
The "stag movies" the Judge had ordered taken of Ray's "escapades" with condemned female prisoners would remain in his own safekeeping, he had told them. Ray would have his job, and a handsome salary boost in addition, provided he kept his mouth shut and Irene did the same. If either should so much as dare to talk to anyone at the News-Gazette, there would be immediate reprisal; Ray would be discharged and blackballed so that he could never find another job in the state, and Irene would be branded as a common prostitute and brought before the Municipal Court for a taste of Welfare Island's discipline.
When the young couple left to go back to their little farmhouse, the Judge went into the next room where the lesbian superintendent was writing out a report on some of the new arrivals.
"I don't think we will have any more trouble with the Hickeys, my dear," he genially remarked. "You can count on Ray as one of the guards in the special program we've scheduled in the arena in two weeks. I've got quite a lineup of important guests coming. Tony Rocco from the New Orleans Syndicate, Jim Hunter from Memphis, Ed Parker from St. Louis, and Bob Delancy from Atlanta. And there'll be some important couples, including Mr. and Mrs. Whatcott from Dallas. I understand they're looking for some new slaves. Old Crawford has his usual eye out for a new filly, and Sheila is getting itchy for another personal maid. Crawford just made half a million in a nice little stock deal through one of his holding companies, so he's loaded, and we're going to take away as much as we can. This is to be an all-out affair, Marjorie. The works. The finest food and liquor, plenty of champagne, the private suites all beautifully furnished, and a few of your properly disciplined little bitches assigned to those rooms for twenty-four-hour-a-day service."
"It will be taken care of, Judge."
"I'm very pleased with you, Marjorie. Ever since I put you in here, you've done wonders with Welfare Island. The big boys of the Syndicate are grateful, too. You'll have a reward when the shindig is over. Rocco and Delancy are contributing a big chunk of money-putting it into a retirement fund for you."
"That's very kind, Judge. We've been very lucky so far. The last visit we had from the director of penal institutions from Little Rock was over a month ago, and he gave us a very good report."
"No reason why he shouldn't have, Marjorie. I get wind of everything that's going on in this state, and don't you forget it. Nobody is going to pull any raids on Welfare Island while I'm on the bench, not while the big boys have a private wire to my house and can tip me off. There are plenty of payoffs all over the organization, so I don't expect any hitches. You just keep training those girls, because I think the orders are going to increase in the next few months. How's Edith Garvin doing?"
"Reasonably well. I've kept her in isolation, just as you suggested, with bread and water for a week. She's quite humble now. Two of my best matrons have been talking to her every so often, and I think you'll find her quite docile by the time you're ready to take her back into your house."
"I'd like to watch your trainees at work with her, if I might, Marjorie."
"It can be arranged. They've really been restless, those girls of mine," the red-haired lesbian laughed, "and they're hoping you'll let them exhibit their talents two weeks from now."
"I intend to. Well, why don't you have Edith taken to the same cell that charming little Reenie occupied last night, and I'll just let myself into the one next door so I can watch."
"Fine, Judge. I'll tell them to be ready."
Half an hour later, two stout matrons entered Edith Garvin's cell and led her down the stone steps to the dungeon where Irene Hickey had endured her nightmarish coercion by the Judge and his accomplice. The lovely prisoner was no longer the defiant rebel she had been when Judge Black had confronted her just a week earlier. Her face was pale, her eyes big and round with terror, and she poignantly begged the matrons to tell her what was to be done with her, spontaneously promising to be very good and obedient if they would only not punish her. They simply led her into the cell, and then Mrs. Durham, the older matron, authoritatively commanded, "You're to strip naked, Garvin. Right this minute. And then you're to kneel down and face the door and clasp your hands and get ready to acknowledge your young trainers. When they come in, Garvin, kiss their boots and thank them for spending so much time with you. You'd better not forget!"
"Oh, I won't, I won't," Edith fearfully gasped as, blushing furiously, she began to draw off the gray cotton dress all prisoners were obliged to wear, and then the cheap cotton slip beneath it. Next came the bra and panties, whose filmy white nylon contrasted with the drab and inexpensive outer garments. Now she stood in only black cotton stockings held up on her sleek thighs by elastic garters, and work shoes.
"You may keep those on, Garvin," Matron Durham decided.
"Thank you, Matron." As the two women left the cell, Edith Garvin hastily knelt down and pressed her soft fingers together in an attitude of prayer.
It seemed an interminable length of time-so interminable that her knees ached from their pressure against the cold stone of the dungeon floor-until at last the door opened and Dr. Marjorie Sayers' two sadistic dominatrixes entered the cell. The first, Jackie, was insolently provocative in a sleeveless white silk blouse, jodhpurs, black leather boots, and black leather gloves to her elbows. She brandished a silver-handled black leather riding crop, a present from the Judge for services rendered. Her black hair was cut in helmet style, and her face was an insolent oval, with a small, supercilious mouth and ripe upper lip. She had a straight nose with very sensuous wings, high-set cheekbones, and sparkling black eyes which gleamed with exultant cruelty as they fixed on the naked figure of the girl. Her firm, quince-shaped tits thrust arrogantly against the thin silk for she was naked under the blouse and jodhpurs.
Betty, the elder of the two disciplinarians, wore precisely the same costume, but instead of a riding crop she brandished a short rubber dog whip in her right hand. Her face was round, almost heart-shaped, with large, innocent-looking blue eyes, a dainty snub nose, sensually ripe full mouth, rounded cheeks, and deliciously dimpled chin. Her golden hair was formed into a thick braid down to her shoulder blades, with a sky blue silk ribbon daintily tied to its middle. Against her blouse, high-perched, splendidly rounded breasts surged, while from her slim waist there flared wonderfully rounded buttocks, delightfully curved thighs, and elegant calves. Jackie's skin was tawny; Betty's was baby pink. Between these two girls there was an affinity which their boss had artfully taught them: a pitiless contempt for any women put into their power. It delighted the prison superintendent to turn over some helpless female prisoner-like Edith Garvin-and see how her precocious disciples would expertly strip away the pride, rage, stoicism, and heroism from the victim and reduce her to a groveling naked slave-bitch, ready to execute the most degrading orders. She had begun their training with the martyrdom of Laura Williams, her husband's doxy, and since then, she had given them many opportunities to acquire a fiendish artistry with whips and fetters and other implements of torture and bondage. She had even allowed them to perform in the arena before the important guests.
While Jackie was a decided lesbian like her mentor, Betty, though also enjoying Sapphic delights, much preferred the male. Their employer, to be sure, had been the first to take their virginity. But Betty had an almost juvenile "crush" on handsome Jack Harkins, the brown-haired editor of the Catayunga News-Gazette. Three months ago he had visited the prison in the company of the state director of prisons, and had written a feature story. Dr. Sayers had taken the two men on a guided tour of the laundry, the kitchen, and the sewing room, and the executive from Little Rock had been impressed and had given Dr. Sayers a very favorable recommendation for her work. Jack Harkins had obvious misgivings. He had sensed that more went on here than met the eye. He had felt there was graft and corruption behind Welfare Island's inception, and he was certain that Judge Austin W. Black was very deeply involved.
Without waiting to be told, Edith Garvin promptly prostrated herself and kissed the booted feet of both her tyrannical young trainers. Then, straightening up, her hands still clasped in an attitude of prayer, she faintly stammered an expression of thanks for the trouble they had taken with her.
"Oh, that's all right, Edie." Jackie grinned maliciously. "We've got lots of time to work on you, haven't we, Betty? Now, let's see. Yesterday we taught you how to be a pony girl, didn't we?
"Come to think of it, Jackie, we did," Betty said, giggling.
"So as a starter, suppose you show us how good you are today," Jackie concluded.
With this, she mounted Edith's back, as the latter docilely went down on all fours and bowed her head. Then, reaching back with her silver handled riding crop, the black-haired little sadist called out, "Giddyup, horsey! Trot me all around the cell, and you'd better not tip me over, or I'll thrash your ass to shreds, so help me!"
Edith Garvin obeyed at once. As quickly as she could, she crawled forward on the bare stone floor, with Jackie astride her. Jackie's left hand had plunged into the unbound dark brown tresses of the captive, using them as her reins. Reaching behind her, she flicked Edith's olive-sheened bottom repeatedly with the stinging, narrowed flap of the riding crop.
After a tour of the cell had been made, she brought Edith to a halt by yanking viciously on her hair, then dismounted.
"Not too bad," she pronounced. "Betty, you try it."
Meanwhile, in the adjacent cell, Judge Austin W. Black sat in an armchair before the one-way glass panel, his fly open and his penis throbbingly liberated. He fondled it delicately as his eyes devoured the exquisite scene.
"Now, Edie, just to show how nice and obedient you are so the Judge will like you from now on," the black-haired little despot commanded, seating herself on the straight-backed chair in the center of the cell, "crawl over on all fours and ask me to give your luscious ass a good tanning!"
Edith Garvin burst into tears, but helplessly moved forward on the cold stone floor, her voluptuously ripe body all the more obscenely tempting in the black cotton stockings that hugged the curves of her legs and thighs. Halting before the chair, she quavered desolately, "Pl-pleased, M-Mistress J-Jackie, II beg you to g-give my b-big b-bare a-ass a g-good h-hard-hard sp-sp-spanking to teach me how-how to be a g-g-good little sl-slave."
"I'll be glad to, Edie!" Dr. Sayers' younger disciple gleefully retorted. "Get yourself in position."
With a groan, poor Edith Garvin, her face scarlet with humiliation, draped herself across the cruel girl's lap, bowing her head and resting her palms on the floor.
"What did I spank you with yesterday, do you remember?" Jackie guilefully demanded.
Edith's naked body shuddered violently at this mortifying question, but she understood that a truthful answer was imperative. "W-with the-the leather p-paddle, M-Mistress Jackie," she groaned.
"That's what I thought. Betty, lend me that cane of yours. I don't think Edie's ass has been caned all week. Thanks, Bets. Now then, Edie, I'm going to give you a baker's dozen right on the bare ass, do you understand? You're to say thank you for each one, and count them all out. Any ones you don't count are extra, get me?"
In the other cell, Judge Black's fingers were stroking his throbbing prick, and he licked his lips as he leaned forward in his chair to follow the exquisite scene.
Putting her gloved left hand on the back of the victim's neck and forcing Edith's head still lower, the black-haired tormentress lifted the cane in her right hand and applied a short stroke vertically, exactly bisecting the Monroe-unprotected left hemisphere of Edith Garvin's bare bottom. The victim stiffened, and one leg kicked up as she sobbed: "Oww! Ohh! One, Mistress Jackie. Th-thanks, M-M-Mistress!"
"You're quite welcome, Edie. Keep counting now, so I can hear it, get me?" Jackie grinned. A vivid pink welt had sprung up on Edith's olive-sheened flesh, and her opulent bottomglobes were contracting in an instinctive attempt to diminish the burning slashes of the cane.
Twelve more times it descended at varying intervals, prolonging the victim's torment to the utmost. Each drew a sobbing cry and, toward the last half dozen, imploring cries for mercy. But so well-trained was Edith Garvin by this time that she did not forget to count or to recite the demeaning formula of thanks.
Released, she went down to her knees, forbidden to rub her blazing bottom. Clasping her hands in prayer as she looked up at the young matron, tears streaming down her face, she stammered a formula of thanks for the thrashing. Then she kissed the cane and the gloved hand which had so ably administered it over her smarting bottom.
"Now we're going to give you another lesson in sex education," Jackie pursued. "I think you know by now how to fuck a guy, but the Judge might want you to get him all excited by girl-loving some cute bitch he's invited to his house, see? Now you go over to my colleague, open up her jodhpurs and lick her cunt. I'm going to give you three minutes by my wristwatch to make her come, and if you don't, I'm going to put you in a pillory with your bare feet standing on pebbles and thorns for a whole hour, and at the end of that hour I'm going to give you fifty swats with the leather paddle on your bare ass."
With a despairing sob, the weeping woman crawled over to Betty, and kissed the latter's boots. She tremblingly drew down the zipper of the jodhpurs, and with her soft little fingers, gaped apart the fly to expose the golden-tufted mount of that delectable cunt. Then, applying her mouth and tongue to the girl's slit, Edith Garvin, once so chaste and prudish, proceeded noisily and hastily to suck Betty. Behind her, Jackie counted out the precious seconds as they ticked away.
"You've got one minute and five seconds left. You'd better get with it, Edie ... fifty seconds now ... how's she coming, Betty ... or rather, how are you coming?"
Burrowing her head between her tormentress's thighs, Edith worked her tongue more deeply into Betty's drenched cunt. She shook her head from side to side as she lapped at the gaping hole, hoping to stimulate the girl's clitoris with her nose since she couldn't use her tongue on both places at once. "Thirty seconds now ... twenty-nine," Jackie counted down relentlessly. Edith, struggling to ignore the ominous words, knowing they would only distract her, used a feather-light flicking motion on Betty's lovebud now, hoping that the almost nonexistent touch would stimulate the sadistic girl, who was probably immune to more forceful ministrations.
A surprised gasp from Betty told Edith that her guess was right on target. She quickly grasped the girl's clitoris between her lips and sucked for all she was worth, bringing on a shattering climax with fifteen whole seconds to spare. Betty uttered a sobbing groan and plunged her gloved fingers into Edith's disheveled hair, crushing the woman's panting mouth against her quaking cunt as she experienced the release of her love dew.
At that same moment, with a cry of lust, Judge Austin W. Black felt himself burst, and his geyser of sperm spattered the glass panel through which he had been greedily devouring the scene before him.
The day they would afterward remember as the beginning of the end of Judge Black's regime was in fact a quiet Sunday evening, and Jack Harkins had just taken Sally Dalby to dinner. He was more silent than usual, because just as they entered the restaurant he'd seen a black police cruiser pull up in front of Sheriff Dawson's office, whereupon the Sheriff emerged with two deputies and unloaded the car's cargo of three attractive young women. One of them had resisted, and the Sheriff had slapped her across the mouth and then had one of his deputies handcuff her and shoved her into the office. It was all very strange, Jack thought. What could such innocuous-looking women have done to merit such brutality?
"You know, honey," he told Sally as they were sipping their coffee, "I just don't like what's going on in this town. I'm convinced that if I could prove Judge Black is running some sort of racket around Welfare Island, I could clean him out of here once and for all. But how the devil am I going to do it? That old goat is rich and powerful, and he's got Syndicate money behind him, I'm sure of it."
"Maybe," said Sally brightly, "if someone could get sentenced to Welfare Island and keep her eyes open and find out what was happening, she could report back to the authorities on what's really going on."
Jack set down his coffee cup with a clatter and stared at his beautiful fiancee with delight. "Of course! That's it! But it would have to be somebody who isn't known to the Judge and to that stupid Sheriff Dawson."
"Why couldn't I try it for you, Jack?"
"You? Good God, I'd just as soon send you into a dry creek bed full of rattlers as I would let you get into that so-called correctional institution." Jack shook his head. "There's got to be another way."
"Might be." At the sound of the woman's voice they both looked up sharply.. They hadn't heard her approach the table.
Jack appraised the new arrival. She was attractive-shapely, black-haired, well-dressed-and he'd seen her before, though he didn't know her name. She glanced nervously from side to side before finally facing them. "Uh ... can I help you?" Jack said genially.
"The answering service at your office said you might be here. You are Jack Harkins, the editor of the News-Gazette?" When Jack nodded she took a deep breath, then went on resolutely. "I think you might want to talk to me, Mr. Harkins," she said. "I hear you're an honest man. My name is Irene Hickey...."
