In an age of mass communications, radical social change and space flights there remains in many parts of the world a way of living that still borders on savagery and barbarism. Author, Jean-Jacques Tibor, has brilliantly illustrated this barbarism in his latest book.
A world traveler for more than half of his forty years, Mr. Tibor has seen examples of retarded cultures in every corner of the world, but what he has called "the most shocking" he discovered in Turkey during the middle 1960's.
While writing a series of cultural essays in Istanbul, Tibor scoured libraries, museums and hundreds of back alley establishments researching his essays. Through his countless personal contacts he established many lasting friendships that continued to cultivate his understanding of the Turks. It was from one of these friendships that he learned the story that set this book in motion. Though at first he was skeptical, careful checking soon showed the author that there could be little doubt of its authenticity.
It is almost common knowledge that Turkey is a military nation, but what is not widely known is the swiftness and severity of Turkish justice. Much of the country's law is established in custom and not the law books. Its execution is often carried out by local "Kangaroo" type trials when other tribunals are not available, and because of the country's militant nature, a low ranking Turkish officer may sometimes possess the power of life and death over the citizens in his area.
These circumstances form the matrix for Tibor's story.
The militant male-oriented culture of Turkey makes the penalty for crimes by women the most severe. A man may commit murder or rape and often be justified, but a woman committing only fornication may be put to a tortuous death or imprisoned in a compound where her only means of release is forced prostitution. Operated by the military, these prisons provide free brothels for young soldiers who would otherwise have no means of sexual release, excepting homosexuality. As a result a woman could spend ninety-five per cent of her time servicing soldiers for nothing while she is trying to work off her fine.
Tibor's story begins in a small cubicle of one of these compounds, but he is not so much concerned with the Compound as he is with the men of power. In the smaller more isolated areas of Turkey they are the complete law, and anyone who displeases them is subject to their personal, and sometimes perverted whims. Their destructive power must be exposed in this country as well as others in order to draw parallels in our own society.
The author has expertly demonstrated the cruelty of these men in an effort to show that any of us could be subjected to a dubious fate by only the slightest quirk of circumstance. The reader can be thankful that he lives in the greatest free nation in history and not in the rugged back hills of Turkey where his life might be snuffed out for the slightest infraction of what could be called the world's most backward laws.
Some might be skeptical, but after reading through the entire manuscript, we will leave it to the reader to decide for himself whether or not the story serves its true purpose. We desire only to present a story of suspense and intrigue that will make the reader realize that his own life style is unique among human beings, free from the fear of injustice and terror.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER 1
THE COMPOUND
She lay there in the semi-darkness and fought to control the nausea that rose from the trembling pit of her stomach. The sweet cloying smell of heavy Turkish tobacco hung in the damp heat of the small room, actually more of a cell than a room, and intermingled with the feral odors of the hundreds of bodies that had lain in that bed before her.
The smells of sweat and tobacco, and the aftereffects of the drugs they had given her to calm her hysterics made her violently ill and it was several minutes before she stumbled weakly back to the cot and fell limply onto the rough blankets.
In the dim light her tortured mind struggled desperately to blank out the realization of the awful shame and degradation that awaited her. She tried not to think, not to remember the night before, tried to forget what Mustafa Cekuz and his men had done to her, but it was no use. Each time she closed her mind to unthinking numbness, she was thrown back to reality by the rustling and grunting sounds from other rooms like hers. The furtive murmurings of couples in frantic copulation and the lewd and hideous laughter of foreign voice awaiting their turn in one of the numbered cubicles.
Suddenly, it seemed very important to her that she know what the number was on the outside of her door. She knew there would be a large black number on a white ceramic tile-she'd seen the numbers on the other doors when they had led her down the dark hall, but hers had been obscured by one of the men's bodies who'd thrown her roughly into the tiny prison cell.
It's all I nave, she thought. Only a number... . I have no name in here! A whore with a number! I have to know what it is, her mind screamed, I have to know what my number is so that I'll know who I am!
She clawed at the heavy wooden door, trying frantically to open it and find the only clue to her identity-and her agonized cries brought smiles of anticipation to the swarthy faces of the small group of men who waited hungrily in the outer room.
They knew...they knew the new young innocents always screamed at first...and soon...soon she would be theirs...
* * *
Several rooms from the cell where the young girl screamed and pounded on her door, another man waited in his office. He puffed hurriedly at his cigarette and thought of different ways he could welcome the young American beauty to the Compound. The fat, ugly man was Hebran, the commandant of the Compound, and to some his might have been a very enviable job.
In many of the older and less civilized towns of Turkey the penal custom of the Compound still existed-and Trabzon was no exception.
The Compound is in several senses no more than a prison for women but it does have one very distinguishable characteristic. Its inmates, unfortunate beings who have been sentenced for many various types of crimes, can obtain their freedom only through prostitution within the Compound...working as whores for the Civil State until they have accumulated enough money in payment to pay the fine levied on the crime for which they were sentenced. The fines for these various crimes differ greatly, and in some cases these women will work nearly throughout their entire life...never earning enough to pay their fine, and even coming to dread the day when they become too old for their services to be wanted anymore by the men of the town-because when that occurs they have lost their only hope of ever obtaining their freedom.
The custom of the Compound in Turkey serves a two-fold purpose: Turkish moral and sexual codes make it very nearly impossible for any single man to find the legal companionship of a free woman. It is a crime for both the man and woman to be found in any intimate circumstances unless they are legally married, and the penalty is severe-though more so for the woman than for the man. And, also, in lieu of an increase in pay, every member of the Turkish Armed Forces is issued a free pass to the Compound and is able to avail himself of the women's services without charge.
In these two ways the Compound in these small ancient towns is a valued and necessary custom...but for the inmates, it can be a nightmare of hell and degradation...a hopeless and inhuman form of penal torture.
Hebran, the man mentioned earlier, is the commandant of the Trabzon Compound and within the confines of the prison his power is absolute. Though other commandants in other towns may act otherwise, it is Hebran's custom to personally 'interview' each new inmate, and for the past several hours since the internment of Rome Williams, the American girl in cell number twenty-seven, his anxiety has risen with each passing minute of the clock. He quickly snubbed out his cigarette and hurried from his office.
* * *
Rome cringed in horror in the dark corner of the small cell. A very ugly heavy man stood in her doorway, silhouetted by the faint hallway light behind him.
"Get up, you slut. I'm your superior here!" In the dark stone wetness of the tiny room, his high-pitched voice echoed tinnily and cruelly, and she felt the cold chills of terror race down her back. She couldn't move, so paralyzed by fear that her arms and legs were unable to obey him.
"Get up! I said," he screamed at her, and very quickly for a fat man, he raced across the room and hit her brutally on the face and shoulders.
"No...no, please...please...don't hit me any more!" she cried out. "Please don't hit me anymore!" Her back and buttocks were covered by weals and welts from the beating she'd received the night before and her whole body burned with searing pain.
"Get up, and get on the bed!" Hebran shouted again as he jerked her to her feet, and shoved her roughly across the room. She fell heavily to the floor again at the edge of the bed, but didn't have the strength to rise any further.
Hebran looked at her in satisfaction. Even in the dim light he could see that the reports of her beauty that had reached him had not been exaggerated.
He waddled over and looked down at her gloatingly. She was completely at his mercy, and he'd just thought of a way to humiliate her completely and show the proud little bitch that he was in command here.
Rome leaned back against the cold metal bars of the bed and watched with horror as he began to remove his clothing.
Hebran saw her watching him. The light through the barred door of the cell let in just enough light to make out her features. He bent and squatted on the edge of the bed next to her and removed his heavy shoes, stuffing the smelly socks into them and shoving them beneath the bed. I don't want to trip over anything at a crucial moment, he grinned lewdly to himself.
He pulled his pants down over his thick hips and stepped out of them. His limp penis was scarcely more than a lump at his groin. He took it between two fingers and shook it out. It was little now, but it sure wouldn't be nothing to be ashamed of when he was ready to use it, he thought. He watched the trembling girl at his feet as he silently peeled off his shirt and dropped it onto the heap of his trousers. He ran his short stubby fingers through the mat of hair on his chest and wondered if she liked hairy men...some of the other women in the Compound did.
He stroked his hand across the still sleeping nubbin between his legs, thinking about how he was going to teach this beautiful American girl a little something about pleasing her master.
"Come up here, baby," he crooked a finger and spoke English at the girl who cringed beneath him, "I wanna see them pretty little tits of yours hanging out."
Rome couldn't move. She knew that it was inevitable...if she didn't do what he ordered, he'd beat her until she was unable to move, but somehow she was still unable to obey him.
Hebran's mouth curled up on one side. He was glad that she wasn't going to be easy. Made it more interesting. He didn't mind slapping a woman around, in face it kinda made him hot. He rubbed his limp penis again. Still no sign of life, but he'd get it up...he'd let her get it up for him!
"I said, come here, woman!" His voice was harsh and the wild look was beginning to return to his eyes.
Rome knew that she had to. It took all her willpower, but she made her legs move and she stood slowly until she was facing the fat naked man.
"Closer, baby, come closer," he said softly as he sat down heavily onto the bed.
Rome moved in closer...two feet away...he crooked his finger at her again, the hideous hungry grin still on his round face...and then she stood not more than a foot from his naked body. She waited hopelessly for him to rip the clothes from her body, or at least to pull her into his arms. But he only grinned...a horrible leering grin...and he kept staring at her mouth...
Rome felt the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. She hoped he didn't mean...but he did. He pointed to the floor.
"On your knees, bitch. Let's see you wake up our little friend."
Rome began to slowly unbutton her dress. Anything to avoid the terrible thing he wanted her to do. His hand reached out and held hers.
"That can wait." And then he began to hope that she'd refuse, he wanted to hit her. "Down on your knees!"
She sank to her knees on the cold stone floor and sat back on her heels. His small dangling organ hung on a level with her mouth, not more than a foot away.
Oh my God! Oh my God, her mind cried...please don't let this happen to me!
Hebran stepped forward to straddle her knees slightly, gauging the distance so that her mouth would just meet the purplish head of his soft, limp weapon. He bent forward and looked down over his fat, paunchy stomach. It was just two inches too high. He let his feet splay out to the side and gauged the distance again. Just right. He grinned as she moved her head to the side to avoid touching the wrinkled, placid penis.
"Okay, my little American pigeon, he's all yours. Let's see if you can't do as good a job as my other girls."
Rome turned her face even farther away from his tiny organ and closed her eyes.
Hebran hit her sharply on the side of the head.
"You want to disobey me? I know many ways to make you change your mind...like this."
He grabbed her ears in each stubby hand and twisted upward. The pain was excruciating, Hebran knew that because it was a hold that he'd found to be very effective with the other girls in the Compound. He turned her face up to his loins easily, then shoved his heavy hips forward, mashing the small flaccid organ against her tightly closed lips. And again, Rome refused to open her mouth. Once more the strong hands twisted at her small ears and she cried out with the pain.
"Open, bitch, open up, I said!"
Her mouth parted slightly. Another twist and it yawned open. He looked hungrily at the open lips in front of him, then very carefully he raised up on his toes and dangled his limp cock over the center of her mouth and lowered himself down off his toes. His two-inch prick settled softly into the soft, warm confines of her and lay there twitching slightly.
Rome didn't move, trying desperately not to brush that horrible thing with her tongue.
"We can do this two ways," he said harshly," either you suck me right, or I'll whip you until you're unable to move and then you can do the same thing the hard way."
He stood towering above Rome's kneeling form, arms at his side, and his hands on either side of her head-forcing her to look up helplessly into his eyes while his limp penis hung loosely between her lips.
"Which way are you going to do it?"
Rome felt the fight go out of her suddenly. There was no way to disobey him, and the drugs she had been given had left her so weak that she had no strength. Oh my God, please keep me from losing my mind! Please...please...over and over her mind cried out silently.
She closed her lips over the small soft organ, and probed at it listlessly with her tongue. She felt his hands loosen their painful grip on her ears, and they throbbed horribly as the blood and feeling came back into them. His big hands held her head firmly, but not painfully.
There isn't much fight in her, Hebran thought regretfully. He usually liked them with a little more spirit...maybe if he hit her again she'd liven up a little-he always thought that it felt better after he'd slapped them around a little. Suddenly it seemed as if she must have sensed what he was thinking because she began to work her mouth and tongue a little faster...
Hebran watched the top of the moving blonde head bob up and down on his prick.
He let his hands slip from her head and slide over the smooth golden skin of her shoulders. Soft, like flesh-colored velvet.
She wasn't working hard enough, he thought, and brought his hands back up to the sides of her head and began to pump his hips rhythmically back and forth while he held her head still. The limp nub of his penis rubbed rapidly across her lips and he could feel the enamel hardness of her small teeth brush tantalizingly across the bottom side of his cock...could feel the rough, surface and the teasing wetness of her tongue...
His anticipation had been so great that his penis was supersensitive and the slight sandpaper roughness of her licking tongue sent electric chills deep into his groin.
"Mmmmmmmmmm...good, that's it, my little whore, that's it... "
He pumped his loins faster, pressing hard against her soft lips each time, burying the stubby length of his prick all the way to the coarse hair at its base. His prick was awake now, that was for damn sure, he thought, and growing bigger with each driving thrust of his hips. Her lips slid over the full length of his rising cock with each forward plunge of his body. He knew that soon, as it grew larger and longer that it would touch the back of her throat. The length of his penis was the subject of much conversation in the Compound. It wasn't so big around, but several of the more outspoken prison matrons had told him that even they had heard from the inmates how long it was.
Hebran smiled to himself. He knew that it was reaching an admirable size already, for the girl was having difficulty taking its hardening length in her mouth, gagging and choking sometimes when he really threw it at her.
He closed his eyes and pumped ceaselessly in and out of her mouth...
* * *
Rome was trying frantically not to choke on the throbbing creature that invaded her throat. It was so long! Each time his hairy body slapped against her lips, that terrible thing pushed against the back of her throat and almost slid down the sensitive passage at her tonsils. At first she had gasped and choked with each plunge, thinking that she would surely suffocate beneath its thrust. Gradually she had been able to relax her throat muscles and now it wasn't so bad. He would pull it almost out of her mouth, out until the raised head at its tip brushed her lips, then he would begin that awful journey back into her throat. It was hard, but flexible, and when the head bumped against the back of her throat it would bend just enough to go down. Each time it did, she would have to swallow...or choke...and she knew that the flexing of her own throat muscles would be her downfall. He moaned each time she swallowed and she knew that the contractions of her throat were milking him to a quick climax. But each time she tried not to swallow, she choked and her throat automatically contracted around it.
He pulled it almost out, rubbing its gorged head over the smooth softness of her lips. She could taste the beginning of the end. It was pungent and slippery and oozed in tiny drops from the opening at the end of his penis. He took the head between his fingers to steady its aim and rubbed it lewdly against the outside of her lips as if he were applying lipstick, the lubrication leaving her lips wet and shiny. She knew better than to shrink from his obscene touch and let him paint her lips with his vile hot discharge.
Fuck!...that was sexy!...Hebran moved his cock back and forth across her mouth. He saw its fat tip painting her mouth...and it looked hungry that way...she looked hungry, hungry...hungry
... and then, when he could wait no longer, he probed his heavy swollen shaft back in...letting it slide between those wet hungry lips and into her warm, waiting mouth. He began the long, slow gyrations again, holding her head tight and still burying his aching cock deep down into her mouth until the courseness of his pubic hairs pressed tightly into her nose.
Rome couldn't say anything...couldn't think of anything. She almost gagged again as he drove deeply into her mouth over and over again. She had to relax her throat muscles again or she'd choke too death. He jammed his cock through her tightly clamped lips, down over the rough little tongue and down the throat, again and again and again, until she felt his loins twitch beneath the hair as he banged against her. It was beginning. Oh God! He was going to empty that hot, swollen beast down her open throat! What could she do!...
Hebran felt the beginning twitch of his loins. He felt the hot semen behind the flood gate in his balls. He slowed his thrusts. He wanted to feel every screaming inch as his boiling semen burst from his balls to his prick's end and into her throat. His hands squeezed in on her head, holding her absolutely motionless in his grip, while he pushed down...far down into the velvet throat of the helplessly kneeling girl. Here it comes, he thought, here it comes!! He could feel the hot semen rushing out of his balls and up the bottom of his long, throbbing penis. He stopped all motion, his prick hard down her throat, her head held still, and waited for the final cataclysmic burst. And then it came...torrent after torrent...
"AAAAAHHHHHhhaaaa..." he yelled out loud. "Suck it, baby, suck it hard!"
Rome sucked. Hard! She hated herself...but she wanted it. Now that it was here, SHE WANTED IT! She sucked at the long, obscenely jerking cock and desperately swallowed its gushing waves of hot, cream-like liquid. Her arms swung around his heavy hips and she held him as tightly as possible against her working mouth.
"Go, baby...SUCK!" came the high shrill voice above her head. "Suck you little whore, suck it dry!"
* * *
Moments later, the young girl lay crying quietly in the dark empty room, the pungent taste of the commandants lewd, thick sperm still on her aching lips. Just one small part of her horrible nightmare had ended, and she lay still except for the wracking sobs that shook her shoulders, crying and quietly trembling as she tried painfully to remember how it had all begun...
CHAPTER 2
ISTANBUL
The clerk at the desk noticed the sudden hush in the conversations around him and raised his eyes to find the reason. He saw that almost every man in the lobby was staring towards the front door and he turned to watch the girl who held their attention.
She stood in the doorway in a white leather coat and waited for the bellman to bring in her luggage. Ishmael, the desk clerk, admired the strong graceful curves of her long legs and knew even though she had her back to him that when she turned, her face would match the beauty of her figure. He wasn't mistaken. The tall, blonde girl followed the bellman to the registration desk, and as she approached Ishmael her features became more distinct and he caught his breath at her startling loveliness. He wouldn't have described her as pretty, it was so much more than that. She didn't have a cute face like some of the American girls he'd seen, and for some reason he was sure she was American. Her face was too striking, too sculptured to be pretty. Her cheekbones were prominent, almost Slavic, and her eyes were very large and a strange light gray-blue. But, it was her mouth that gave her such an aura of sensuality, almost too wide and full to be attractive it somehow made her face differently beautiful.
Ishmael probably shared a feeling with all the other men in the lobby as he felt a sudden, strong surge of hunger race through his loins and he waited to be disappointed by her voice as she set down her purse and turned to speak to him. Surely, there had to be some flaw in a creature so lovely.
"Good morning, I'm Rome Williams. I have no reservation, but I'm with Reuters and I hoped you might have something suitable for me." Her huge strangely-colored eyes seemed to have swallowed him as she spoke and momentarily he was unable to answer. He knew that Reuters was one of the world's largest and most respected news services, but it was her voice that disconcerted him so. Throaty and husky, it bored into him like the soft rumbling purr of a honess who'd learned to mouth human words, and though it was almost as deep as some men's there was no taint of masculinity.
Rome Williams watched the strange mustachioed little man gape at her and felt a twinge of familiar pleasure. She'd sensed the same reaction in so many men in the past month and she basked for a moment in her satisfaction before she repeated her question, this time in French.
"Yes, Miss Williams, I would be most delighted to accommodate you," he answered in French, very pleased with himself, and then continued in English, "we are great admirers of the esteemed Reuters Press Services here at the Hilton and will endeavor in every way to meet with your approval." Ishmael was very proud of his English and French and didn't realize how stilted it sounded to an American, and he felt his chest swell a little as he sensed that the beautiful blonde girl was attracted to him. He could tell by the way that she smiled, with eyes for him only. What he didn't realize was that Rome Williams had something that very few girls ever learned-the ability to make every man feel as if he were the only one left in the world.
Rome giggled inside as she watched the funny little man strut before her. If every man in Turkey is as easy to handle as this, she thought, I'm not going to have any trouble at all.
"Miss Williams," the clerk interrupted her thoughts, "would I be correct in assuming that you are here to do an article on our beautiful city of Istanbul?"
As she started to answer him she realized that a small He might pave the way even more. "Well, actually," and she paused in question until he introduced himself. "Actually, Ishmael, I'm on vacation and had thought that during my spare time I would be able to write a story that would be of considerable interest to our readers. It would be a story of Istanbul, of course, but more than that I wanted to do a series on Hilton Hotels...their effect in foreign...ah...European cities like yours and on important people like yourself, and how it felt to you to be working for such a large corporation." She waited, watching him swell up like a pouter pigeon, and knew that she had just captured a hotel for herself.
Rome let him ramble on for several minutes about the assistance he would be so very happy to offer and then interrupted him with a remark about being tired and a promise of returning to interview him.
Moments later she had been ushered into one of the hotels finest suites with the assurance that everything during her stay would be taken care of with the compliments of the hotel.
Rome Williams walked around the three rooms of the suite opening all the curtains to let in the bright sunlight and reveal a panoramic view of the Bosphorous and the Dardanelles. Below her the bridge that crossed two worlds. The East and the Western civilizations, teemed with both foot and motor traffic and in the distance on a high hill she could just barely see the towering spires of the famed Blue Mosque.
Istanbul was all she'd ever dreamed it would be, and even more. Her experience downstairs had convinced her that the whole world awaited her, waited to lead her into a way of life that she had always known would be hers.
It seemed like years since she had deserted the group of girls she had been traveling with and secretly taken that flight to Istanbul. When the small Fairchild F-27 of Turk Hava Yollari, the Turkish national airlines, had finally touched down at the Yesilkoy Airport she had finally felt free. Free to live the glamourous life that she had dreamed of during those long dismal years at Radcliffe.
She laughed contentedly aloud as she sipped some of the raki, a Turkish liquor, the management had sent up to her. Her excitement already had her slightly intoxicated and the Turkish raki, similar to the Greek ouzo or French pernod, only heightened the rising flush of joy she felt.
The tall, exquisitely figured blonde walked over to the full length mirror in the huge bedroom and surveyed her reflection critically.
She set down her drink and slowly removed her midi-length white leather coat. Underneath she was wearing a light cream-colored crocheted wool dress that clung to her curved figure as if magnetized. It ended about six inches above her knees and caressed the rounded softness of her buttocks so closely that it almost revealed the shadowed cleft between them. She turned slowly to examine the way it molded to her body before she undid the long zipper and stepped out of it.
She reached for her drink, watching the golden tautness of her legs as she moved. She wore only a tiny bikini set of white bra and panties and they accentuated rather than concealed the splendid shapeliness of her body.
Rome Williams stood before the mirror, facing it squarely, inhaling to make her high, thrusting breasts even more prominent and examined the image of her face, even trying different expressions of innocence and sensuality. The mobility and expressiveness of her face was amazing and she knew that she would have made a wonderful actress...oh well, even that might come later.
But, as she watched her reflection she was unable to hide the flicker-light of happiness that kept crossing her face.
R's so beautiful, she thought, so very beautiful! Just a few short hours ago I was Laura Williams, a naive schoolgirl on vacation, and now I'm ROME...Rome Williams, worldly and sophisticated reporter for an internationally renowned news service.
The tall girl walked into the bathroom to draw her bath and then came back to pour herself another raid. Her thoughts kept spinning with the daring of the decisions she had made during the past twenty-four hours and moments later as she settled into the warm, velvet heat of her bubble bath she tried to bring everything back into focus.
It had been in Paris that she had finally decided to make her break in Athens. And, even more, it was there that she had begun laying a false trail for herself. Over and over she had raved to the girls and the chaperones she was traveling with that it was France and Paris that she was so crazy about. She had remarked secretly to several of the girls that she almost wished she could abandon the tour and remain in Paris instead of going on to Athens, Greece. Their tour would be ending in Greece and then flying back to the United States, and she had made it very plain that she didn't really want to return to Wilke Barre, Pennsylvania, so soon.
She laughed as she lazily soaped herself in the large, sunken tub. She could just imagine their faces when they realized that she had "jumped ship." Boy, what she would have given to see those chaperones' faces when they had to inform her father that they lost her! Her father, the dignified and blustering banker...he'd go completely through the roof and have the school, the tour company, and every gendarme in France looking for her!
She felt almost positive that they would never think to try Turkey, the place she'd always wanted to go more than any other in the world. The Meeting of The East and The West. She had been afraid at home and at school that they'd laugh at her so-called romantic notions and no one knew of her desire to come to Istanbul.
It's taken me a long time, and a lot of planning, she thought. All that waiting and wondering if I'd be caught, but when that second passport arrived in the name of Rome Williams, I knew I'd passed my biggest hurdle.
She ran the washcloth lightly across the tips of her nipples and noticed absently that they were beginning to harden and stiffen into thrusting fullness.
All those years, and those stuffy private girls' schools. Christ! I might as well have been preparing myself for a nunnery! If it wasn't the hawk-like supervision of the matrons and chaperones, it was the Victorian strictness of James Weatherton Williams III, the man who called himself my father but was really no more than a rich old man who didn't want to be bothered with the problems of raising a daughter. Ever since Mother died the only home I've ever had is one school after another and a large empty house in Wilkes Barre with maids and butlers, and an old man who was gruff and uneasy whenever I was around.
I don't guess that's really fair, she thought a little guiltily. I always had anything I wanted, as long as it was something that money could buy. Checking accounts, charge accounts, clothes...anything that didn't require any affection or love, or the touch of a father's hand around the shoulder of his daughter.
She had often wondered what had made him act that way toward her. Why he'd never allowed her to have a date until she was eighteen. Oh, she'd been to hundreds of dances, but only escorted and chaperoned. And, even now, when she was a woman twenty years old...whenever she'd been home from school he'd make her come in before midnight.
Goddamn! she thought. It's a wonder I was even able to convince him to let me go on a trip with fourteen other girls, and SIX CHAPERONES! If it hadn't been sponsored by the chaste faculty of Radcliffe College I still would never have made it.
She slid lower in the multi-colored sparkling cubbies and her hands still on her breasts brought another thought to her mind. Suppose I told him that this was the SECOND time that I've tricked him? She laughed aloud and wondered what her prudish father would do if he ever found out that she wasn't the virginal, innocent little creature he thought she was.
Even that took a lot of effort, she thought, smiling in the heart of her mind. Even with this body of mine, I had trouble finding a boy who would touch me after spending a half hour being interviewed by James Weatherton Williams III down in the den.
She caressed the wet silkiness of her breasts, running her fingernails lightly down prickling awareness of her belly, as she remembered the boy she had picked up.
She'd been driving back to school after another sheltered, boring holiday at home and she had seen the man standing in the rain trying to hitch a ride.
It was only after he'd climbed in that she had seen that he was only a boy about sixteen or seventeen. He'd been wet and disheveled, but still immensely attractive and awed by her beauty. It was still almost two months until her twentieth birthday but she had known she looked older and she laughed as she remembered the way the boy had reacted when she had asked him if he'd mind spending the night with her in a motel because she hated driving in the rain at night.
He'd pawed his way across the seat and tried to reach for her, but by his clumsiness she had known how inexperienced he was. It had given her the courage and what she had considered worldliness to take control of the whole situation.
It had been so easy, she remembered, and she had taken so much delight in deceiving her father, but it had also been awkward and even a little painful. And there had been none of the wonderful ecstasy she always heard of and expected.
She lay there in the soft liquid heat of the bath, lost at first in the memory of that rainy night, and then she began to realize that it was more than just the remembrance of the boy's fumbling touches that was arousing her, it was the deliberate caressing of her own fingers now beneath the concealing surface of the bubbling water.
The bathroom and the mirrors had clouded over through the rising steam, and the heat seemed to have wrapped itself completely around her body like a protective shield, a warm shield that hid her from prying eyes and increased the tantalizing sensitivity of her senses.
It was as though someone was in there with her, hidden beneath the foaming surface of the water and holding her and tenderly touching her until it became almost unbearable.
She slowly moved her hands up her body, across the golden glistening skin until she reached her high and wide-spread breasts. They were taut and firm, and she lightly caressed the sensitive, erected nipples with the tips of her fingers. They tingled sweetly, stiffening deliciously into an even more strained hardness.
Dreamily, she lowered her hands beneath the soft, resilient mounds and raised them slightly, keeping the pointed sharpness of her fingernails pressed tight into the swollen nipples.
She seemed to be in two worlds, one a memory of a boy's desire for her and the other the touch of teasing fingers that were edging her into erotic delirium. Closing her eyes, and with one hand slowly tracing its sensuous way across each soft breast, she cautiously moved her other hand down her body past the curve of her hip toward the loosely tangled mound of soft, silken hair...curiously so much softer than the other light, sun-streaked hair that had somehow become unpinned and lay tousled and curled about her shoulders.
She lowered herself further into the bath until her body was covered completely, sinking down until the caressing warmth lapped around her neck.
She opened her legs, feeling the gently swirling currents ripple along their long curves, along the soft insides until she imagined she could feel them sweeping through the slightly parted lips of her vagina.
With her chin resting on the surface of the water, Rome returned her hands to her breasts. They felt even softer and smoother beneath the warm, caressing water, delicate and gentle. She stroked them lightly and slowly so that it seemed to take an eternity to move her fingertips from one aroused nipple to the other, she could feel time slowing to a standstill. Her touches, so tender and maddening, slowly lulled her into stillness and soon her eyes closed in sweet rolling waves of ecstasy-chilling and trembling waves coursing the entire length of her awakened body.
She could feel her hands, the trembling softness between her thighs, begin to quiver as she gradually increased the pressure of her touch. Exploring her breasts as if they were strangers to her own fingers. Tentatively...then almost fiercely, her hands nipped at the tiny, pink rosebuds. Squeezing, just touching...and finally pinching, until a wave of painful pleasure began to wash deliciously across her breast, enveloping her in her own world of private and urgent delight.
The memory of the boy whose name she had never known vanished, and was replaced with relentless desire to feel her hands everywhere, to feel the tender, torturing touch of her fingers.
Her eyes grew hot and misty, clouded with aching wanting. Her mouth felt hot and dry, and her breath came in long, heaving gasps. She was beyond thinking consciously as one hand slid caressingly down her flat, smooth stomach until her fingers touched the soft, tingling curl of pubic hair down between her open legs. Soft and silken, it floated gently upwards as the hot water swirled around it.
She stroked the firm rise of her sweetly aching pubic mound, reaching her probing middle finger down the warm, velvet-like lips until it slipped easily into the hungry, throbbing opening of her vagina.
Scarcely aware of what she was doing, she delved deeper and deeper into the hot moistness between her thighs...until finally her finger was buried completely inside her.
The warm caressing waters of her bath now mingled indistinguishably with the flowing secretions that now churned deep in her belly and had lubricated the smooth fleshed passage to a point that she could almost effortlessly slide one more...and then...two more fingers into the burning hunger of her quivering body.
Almost blinded by the ecstatic sensation of her moving fingers she forced her eyes open...to watch the quickening movements of her hand beneath the rippling surface of the water.
Her hips writhed in revolving, sensuous circles, grinding slowly beneath the steaming surface and her thrusting hand moved more rapidly now as her desire mounted and the frenzied, growing pulsations in her loins made her wince deliciously in pleasure.
Her other hand, that all the while had been teasing and tormenting tne rigid tips of her warm heaving breasts, suddenly came into play-reaching down and searching desperately for the hardened and aching button of her clitoris. Now, with both hands driving her into feverish, helpless passion she nearly fainted from pleasure...
Then, in a rolling wave of suddenness, she felt it coming...felt the burning tickling at first, and the fiery eruption of her self-induced orgasm. Arching and thrusting her hips in jerking, uncontrollable desire she sobbed and groaned as she fought to sustain her climax for as long as possible. Her hot, erupting juices merged with the rippling waters of her bath, boiling out from deep in her belly past her straining fingers and out into the steaming tub around her...
CHAPTER 3
THE CABANA
Rome Williams was awakened by the strange buzzing of the European telephone at her bedside. It was the switchboard with her wakeup call. As she thanked them she glanced at her travel clock and remembered that she had requested they awake her then. It was just a few minutes past nine.
She lay in bed for a few moments, shaking the cobwebs of sleep from her mind, and stretching luxuriously in the huge bed. She felt completely refreshed even though she'd only slept about four hours. But then, it had been such an exhausting day that when she'd returned to the hotel she'd fallen immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep that had totally revitalized her.
It had been a busy day, she thought. First, there Had been the flight from Athens and then, she remembered guiltily, there had been that bath!
She'd taken a shower afterwards and tried to erase the unclean sensation she had felt. It had been a long time since she'd played with herself like that, and each time it happened she felt so dirty and guilty afterward.
But, the shower had helped and by the time she'd gotten downstairs and out into the exotic, winding streets of downtown Istanbul she had completely forgotten her bath and what she'd done. It had been a wildly exciting day; there had been the strange little shops, and the little stands that sold shish kabob cooked in open fire braziers right there on the street. But, the part she had liked most was the exploring tour down by the great wharves of the harbor.
She'd been fascinated by the hundreds of ships and sailors from literally all parts of the world, all the small scurrying Turkish men with the huge loads on their shoulders and the tiny tea shops that looked as if they had been there for hundreds of years-as most of them had. She stopped in one of them for a piece of tremendously sweet pastry and a little glass of sugared tea, had known that she was the center of attraction wherever she went, and had even stood on the great bridge that crossed the Bosphorous and watched huge Russian and American cruisers pass within feet of each other beneath the raised drawbridge.
She had never seen or known anything like Istanbul. In one moment it was all new and modern, with the limousines and ships, and the Hilton and the next, it was an ancient city that had never known civilization, like the wharves and tiny shops, and the people who looked the same as they had for thousands and thousands of years.
She had seen the flashing neon signs advertising everything from belly dancers to Cola Coka, as the Turks called their plagiarized version of Coca Cola, but it was just that that she was trying to avoid. She wanted to know the ancient city-not the one that looked like New York-and she had decided to check out of the Hilton on the following day and find a small quaint and local hotel.
Rome glanced again at her clock and realized that she'd better hurry, even though Istanbul, like most European cities, began its night life so much later than she'd been accustomed to in America.
She quickly took another shower and zipped herself into a black dress that clung to her even more tightly than the one she'd worn earlier. It was very low cut, but part of a suit, and when worn with the jacket it didn't look quite so revealing. Before leaving her suite she checked her hair and make-up one final time and then turned her attention to the folders of travelers' checks she still had.
Almost six thousand dollars, she thought hurriedly, that should certainly be enough to last for a while. It had taken her quite a while to save that much without her father noticing, but she had taken care to charge enough clothes in her various accounts so that she shouldn't have to worry about having to buy any in Europe. The money should last her several months and by that time she knew she would have no problem finding a job...perhaps, she thought anxiously, even with Reuters.
Moments later she stood in the restaurant in the fawning presence of the maitre d' while he assured her that there was no need for her to have a reservation and then followed as he led the way to one of the better tables by the window.
Then it seemed as if she was surrounded by waiters, captains, and wine stewards. There were flowers from the management and soon the commotion at her table had everyone in the dining room watching and wondering who she was. She listened to the buzzing of all the curious conversations and basked in all the attention she was getting.
Not only because she knew nothing of Turkish food, but also because she knew that it would have the desired effect on the maitre d', she asked him to order for her and to suggest an appropriate bottle of wine.
It was obvious that the man at the desk had relayed his information about her to all of the service personnel and she was being treated like a queen. Not a queen, she thought laughingly, that sounds too old, I think I look more like a princess.
Finally it became a little ridiculous and she had to wave them all away and tell the maitre d' that she'd prefer not to be disturbed by so much service so that she could eat in solitude. He nodded knowingly and she was able to dine in silence and watch the twinkling of boat lights out across the Bay.
It wasn't until she was having a liqueur after dinner that she noticed a man in the corner staring at her. She tried to pretend as if she hadn't seen him, but she watched his reflection in the mirrored darkness of the window. He was the most attractive man she had ever seen, and even more so by the adoring way that his eyes watched her every move.
She could tell that he was tall, well over six feet, and he appeared to be about thirty years old. His black hair was long in the European style, just curling over the back of his jacket, and skin was darkly tanned though possibly seeming more so because of the glistening white suit he was wearing. The suit surprised her at first but then she remembered seeing several men wearing them, particularly in Italy. Italian, she thought to herself, that's what he looks like.
She watched him give the maitre d' something, and then a little disappointedly saw him get up and leave. Standing, he had looked even better-very slim and well built.
Well, so much for that, she thought and turned back to her after dinner cognac sorrowfully. Why didn't he come over, or at least wait until I left so that he could speak to me in the lobby?
Several seconds later she felt someone at her elbow and turned expectantly, only to find the maitre d' standing there. She tried to mask her disappointment and wondered what it was that he was giving her as he extended his hand.
"Pardon me, Miss Rome, I bet your forgiveness.
But I have been asked by a gentleman to give you this note." He waited until she took it and nodded forgivingly and then withdrew, backing away from her table.
The paper seemed to burn her hand as she tried casually to unfold it and hold it before the light of the candle.
PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR STARING BUT YOU ARE THE LOVELIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD AND I WAS ABLE TO LOOK NOWHERE ELSE. IT WAS NOT LACK OF COURAGE, BUT TIME THAT FORBADE ME TO APOLOGIZE IN PERSON. I MUST SING IN THE CABARET UPSTAIRS NOW.
It was signed: ADORINGLY, MARIO.
What a strange man, she thought. No request for me to join him or for me to meet him later. I wonder if he sings as well as he looks, I think I'll find out.
A moment later she stood before his picture in the lobby. The Voice Of Mario Cavaceppi. And then she was standing in the silent whooshing of the elevator and wondering whether the wine and cognac had given her the courage to go up to see him or whether she really and truly had adopted the identity of Rome Williams, Woman of the World...By the time Rome walked into the Cabaret it was almost midnight and the showroom was completely filled. She stood in the entrance for a moment trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light and listening to the sound of Mario's band just beyond the beaded curtain.
"Ah, Miss Williams," a man suddenly appeared at her side. "I have your table waiting-if you'll follow me, please."
She walked behind him, wondering where there could be an empty table in a room that crowded and wondering where he'd gotten a reservation for her-she hadn't called ahead.
He led her all the way up front to a table just below Mario's microphone. "Here we are, Miss Williams, I hope this is satisfactory."
"Yes, this is fine...but who...? " But the man had already turned and disappeared into the darkness behind her. Then she saw the card RESERVED FOR ROME WILLIAMS, the ice bucket of champagne, and the long-stemmed red rose. There was a note attached to the rose but as she looked up and saw Mario smiling down at her she realized that she didn't need to read the note...she already knew who had made all these preparations.
She started to return his smile but a waiter suddenly appeared to open the champagne and blocked her view. In the few moments that it took for the man to open the bottle and pour the wine, she realized that she was annoyed.
The nerve of that man! He was so sure of me that he laid his trap in advance, she thought angrily. How could he possibly know that I'd come running up here as soon as I got his note in the dining room? He's probably never been disappointed before and decided I was just like any other girl he's picked up!
The waiter had turned and was starting to leave her table, but she reached out and took his arm. "Just a moment, please," she told him softly, "I don't care for champagne. Would you please take the wine and the flower back, and bring me a cognac, Martell Cordon Bleu." The waiter nodded uncomprehendingly, and then placed the rose and the wine on his tray and left.
Rome lit a cigarette and waited a second before she looked up at Mario. He had stopped in the middle of a song and was staring angrily down at her. His sudden halt had confused the band, and finally they too stopped in twos and threes. There was a moment of awkwardness as everyone in the room looked around to see what had happened and then the audience realized what had caused the commotion. There were grins on the faces of several members of the band, and a buzzing murmur behind her but Rome just put out her cigarette and tried to wait casually for the waiter to bring her cognac.
Outwardly, she seemed very calm and composed but her stomach churned inside as she realized that she had insulted the singer in front of more than a hundred people.
The room was quiet for several seconds longer, and then Mario turned to the band, said something, and the room was suddenly filled with a loud rock song. Rome's ears echoed with the pounding rhythm and with Mario's almost screaming voice as he sang the wild, throbbing song-she couldn't look up because her eyes had begun to brim over with tears.
I didn't mean to do that, she thought, I didn't mean to make him so angry. It was so stupid, and now he'll never speak to me again. And I want him, I want him more than any man I've ever known!
The waiter came with her cognac and she had to turn away so that he wouldn't see the tears, and as she did, Mario looked down and saw the glistening wetness on her eyelashes.
He smiled now as he sang and knew that tables had turned. When he'd finished, he moved the mike over a couple of inches until he was directly above her and then raised his hands to ask for silence.
Rome felt the sudden stillness and looked up just as he began to speak over the microphone.
"Miss Rome Williams, I apologize for the second time this evening." His eyes looked directly into hers as he spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have been very foolish this evening. Twice I have tried to force my attentions on this lady" he paused for effect, and then continued, "But, then I had no choice, because, as you must agree, she is the loveliest person in the world." There was quiet for a moment, and then the room was filled with applause, both for the singei and for the beautiful girl who sat crying beneath him.
"Miss Wilhams, may I sing you a song?"
She looked up at him through tear-stained lashes and nodded softly.
It was that way for the next half hour, each song seemed to be dedicated to her and she couldn't take her eyes from him as he sang to her as if she were the only girl in the world. Then, as the band filed from the stage until their next set in an hour, he looked down at her.
She couldn't hear him but she saw his lips ask if he could join her and she could do no more than nod happily.
"Miss Williams, I'm very sorry that I... " but she interrupted him and took his hand. "Mario, my name is Rome, and I'm the one to be apologizing. It was a very rude thing for me to do and I'm deeply sorry."
They sat and talked for the whole hour, sipping cognac and holding hands. Rome had never been happier in her life, had never felt her pulse racing so frantically as it did each time he looked at her or touched her.
Finally, as he rose to sing again, he asked her to wait for him at a cocktail lounge across from the Hilton. He explained that the management wouldn't like it if they were seen leaving together.
She stayed for a few minutes listening to him sing another two songs and then asked for her check, but was told that it had been taken care of by Mario. Then she went across the street and waited for him.
The bartender watched her sitting there alone. He had seen several men try to pick her up and be coldly sent away. It was obvious that she was waiting for someone, and then he smiled to himself as he watched Mario walk in. Well, Mario's done it again, he thought admiringly as he walked over to take them a round of brandy.
Rome had always known that she was unusually attractive to men and was used to their constant attention but none had ever so openly adored her as the dark man who sat across from her. At first it had been a little disconcerting but now she reveled in the way that he stared at her with his eyes so full of love and desire.
His hands and his thighs kept brushing against her as if he was unable to touch her or feel her nearness enough, and she responded by running her fingers lightly across his leg beneath the table. She felt a flush of desire filling her entire being and knew that before the night had ended she would be in his arms and making love. Not like that rainy night with a fumbling boy, but in the arms of a man who loved her and would be able to teach her all she had always yearned for.
"Darling," he said as if he had been reading her thoughts, "I have to be with you tonight." He took her hand in both of his. "I know I have no right to say that to you but I want you so much that I can think of nothing else."
"I want you, too, Mario...more than anything I've ever wanted in my fife...oh, darling...please, let's go now." She started to rise, her knees feeling a little weak with the realization of what she'd promised.
"Rome, wait." His voice was husky and he spoke very softly. "I don't know any place we can go.
Turkey is much different from your country, the laws are very strict and it's highly illegal to...to, uh, be caught in a compromising position when you are not married. It could mean jail for us. I don't know what we can do, we can't go to my place because we might be watched, and we can't go to your room at the hotel-we'd have to pass too many people and the maid or someone...unless... "
"What, Mario...please, have you thought of some place?"
"There would be one way; the cabanas they rent down by the pool are like small apartments, and at this time of night we wouldn't have to worry about anyone disturbing us...they're completely private and have outside entrances..." he paused, looking at her..."I could come in after you'd rented one and no one would know."
"Are you sure it'll be all right, Mario, I don't want to get you into any trouble." It didn't seem possible that any harm could ever come to her, but if it worried Mario...
"Darling, it will be all right, don't worry. She heard him say that he would give his life just to spend a few hours with her, but she was already thinking of an excuse to give the desk for renting a cabana.
"Mario, darling, listen...I'll go back to the hotel now and tell them I'll want a cabana tonight because I may want to go swimming early in the morning. I'm sure there won't be any trouble, and besides, I doubt if they would question me." She stood and whispered to him, "Come in about forty-five minutes, I'll leave a light on." And then she was gone.
CHAPTER 4
THE CABANA
Rome looked anxiously again at the clock. It had only been a little more than a half hour but it seemed like years. She pulled the covers higher and waited.
There had been no trouble at the desk. Apparently, everyone had been told that she was to get anything she wanted without any questions, and the clerk had been very polite and subservient as he handed her the key. Then, she'd gone up to her suite and gotten some toiletries and a swimming suit and negligee, and a bottle of champagne someone had placed in her room while she had been out. She'd seen no one coming down and was sure that nobody knew sne was already in the cabana.
Mario had been right. The cabana was completely furnished with a bath and shower and a large king-sized bed. There was a row of brightlycolored cabanas lining the pool but none of the others appeared to be occupied.
She looked again at the clock and only two minutes had passed. What would she do if he didn't come, or if something happened to him? She couldn't bear to think about it, and felt the cold fingers of ice run down her back.
I don't know what to do, her mind whirled fearfully, hell think I'm such a child. Oh God, suppose I disappoint him! She had to fight the urge to lock the door and turn out the light, she could tell him tomorrow that she had been unable to get the cabana...
No, no, I want him too much...I'll be good for him, I know I will...
Rome could already feel the want and desire racing through her body with just the thought of his hands touching her. She felt the heat rising low between her legs and felt the moistness in her loins.
I wonder if I should have gotten undressed, maybe it would have been better if I had left my clothes on...will he Like this negligee, maybe I should take it off...
She was getting up to look in the mirror again, to check for the hundredth time the way she looked, but then she heard the doorknob turning.
Then he was inside.
"Darling...oh, my darling" She was in his arms and he was saying things to her but she couldn't hear them, only the thunderous pounding of her heart.
"Oh, my love," she moaned softly, "I was afraid you would never come, and I wanted you so much." His face was buried against her neck and she felt his lips and his tongue, but she pulled him away, her eyes pleading.
"Mario, please you have to listen to me." The cry in her voice made him look at her and he saw her eyes filling with tears.
"Mario, it's so new to me...I don't know what to do...I've never made love before, I mean...not really...I'm so afraid I won't be any good for you."
He lifted her head, wondering what she meant by not really, but said nothing and just cupped her face in his hands. "Darling, don't be afraid, you'll be right for me, just to hold you makes my whole life worth living." He held her gently against him, as the words that came so easy poured from his mouth.
"Rome, I'll teach you...darling, I would never hurt you in any way. I promise." He took her arms and released them from his neck and whispered softly, "One moment, let me get undressed."
Rome watched him as he moved away from her. He was so big, so strong, and gentle. She stared at him in amazement when he stood before her nude, she had never known men were so big. That one night with the boy in the motel, they'd undressed in the dark and she had never seen him, only felt him penetrate her.
He frightened her a little as he came toward her, but she knew that he wouldn't hurt her, and she knew that all she wanted in the world was to be able to please him.
"Rome, do you want me to turn out the light," he said as he moved to the table beside the bed.
"No, please, my darling, I want to be able to see you...you're so beautiful."
He knelt beside the bed and kissed her tenderly on her neck. "No, my darling, you are the one who is beautiful," and he pulled the covers slowly away from her body.
She lay half on her side and as the sheet slid down across her golden skin, she heard him gasp softly as warm curves of her body were revealed inch by inch. Her skin was flawless, and her breasts were so proud and firm that, even as she lay on her side, they still thrust their fullness out at him, as if pleading to be held.
Rome closed her eyes, her mouth slightly open in wanton desire, as Mario began to lightly caress her breasts and the sensitive skin beneath them. He knelt closer to her and his lips traced a path behind his fingers, his fingers setting an uncontrollable trembling on her flesh and then his lips would follow to touch her softly until the quivering subsided.
He began to move further and further down her body, and his caressing touches across the goose-bumped flesh of her belly almost drove her wild. She felt him going even lower until his hands and his mouth touched the fringe of her mound of soft, silken pubic hair. She couldn't control the trembling moans that escaped through her parted lips...
"OHhhh...yes, my darling...ohhh, my God..." she cried out over and over again as she felt his lips tracing the triangular borders of her pubic mound...just the tip of his tongue edging its way around until it touched the hot, moistened lips of her vagina...
"Ahhh, Mario...what are you doing to me...your lips are burning me...yes, there, there...KISS ME THERE...!"
But, he moved away from the portal that beckoned and hungered so wildly for him, and she felt the tips of his fingers parting her thighs until he was able to bury his face between them and run the searing tip of his tongue teasingly along the ultra-sensitive flesh on the inner sides of her thighs...going further and further down her quivering legs...
She couldn't believe what was happening to her, had never felt such boiling, burning desire in her life. He was driving her out of her mind and she could think of nothing but to have him bury the full erected hardness of his penis deep inside her waiting body.
"PLEASE...Mario, please make love to me...I want you so much...PLEASE...I want to feel you so deep inside me... "
But he paid no attention to her cries or pleas and continued to kiss the full length of her legs until he reached her feet-her hips ground wildly against the bed as he ran his tongue around the sides of her feet and began to inch his way with his lips back up the trembling softness of her legs.
She struggled uncontrollably, thrusting her hips convulsively into the air as he moved further up her legs until his lips once again touched her softly curled hair, and then she felt his tongue probing into the waiting eagerness of her vagina.
"Oh yes...yes, yes, yes...THERE...Oh my God, it feels so good...so wonderful.... She cried out again and again as he buried his tongue into the hot, glistening opening, and felt his fingers parting the throbbing lips until his tongue went deeper and deeper...and his teeth encircled the pulsating protrusion of her clitoris...biting and nibbling at it until she thought she would pass out.
"Mario, please, now...now...I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME! I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME!" Words that she had never spoken before broke from somewhere deep inside her as she urged and begged him to make love to her.
Then, she felt a rush of cool air, where so much burning heat had been before, felt the coolness as he pulled his head away and climbed onto the bed and lay pressed against her. She grabbed at him, trying frantically to pull him over on top of her, then she felt him above her, between her widespread thighs and felt the swollen hardness of his penis as it bobbed against the surface of her belly.
"Oh my God! Yes...put it in me, I want you inside me!"
She jerked her legs back and high into the air until they encircled his back and raised her hips higher and higher until the eager, heated lips of her vagina felt the searing touch of his prick. She put her hands down to hold his hot, throbbing shaft and guide him into her, positioning him until she was able to thrust upwards again in one last effort and feel her whole body draw him in, feeling the burning liquid depths of her vagina surround and swallow him...
"Sooo big...oh, you're so hot and big...I can feel you everywhere, burning me, filling me...filling me completely..."
Mario remained still for a moment, feeling and watching her squirm beneath him, listening to her words of lust and desire, and then he began to move slowly in and out of her...increasing the depth and pressure of each stroke gradually. He'd had so many women, some almost too experienced, but had never laid one as beautiful and wild as this one.
"Slowly, Rome...slowly, my darling..." he whispered softly into her ear as he reached back and grasped her ankles and brought her legs up even further until he was able to put them across his shoulders...he had rolled her backwards until she was almost jackknifed into a ball, raising her buttocks until her cunt lay directly beneath him and he was able to penetrate her so deeply that he felt the end of his huge, throbbing penis bruise against the hardness of her cervix...again and again he drove into her... "Oh, Mario...what are you doing to me...it's so good...I've never known anything like this before...fuck me, fuck me harder and harder...harder...harder..." her voice trailed away into nothingness as he plunged his hard throbbing cock deeper and faster into her.
She threw herself against him, bucking violently as she tried to absorb more and more of the great burning instrument that brought her such blinding pleasure...over and over she rose to meet his downward thrusts, slamming against him with loud, wet and lustful smacking sounds.
"Oh my God, yes...hurry, darling...hurry...I...I'm going to cum!...soon...oh, yes, it's so near...please, please hurry!"
Her pleas drove him into even wilder frenzy, her words starting a maddening tickling sensation somewhere deep inside his driving body. He could feel the flood inside him threatening to break the dam of his control and he knew that he was only seconds away...just a short blinding eternity from exploding all his strength deep inside the writhing body of the girl who screamed and moaned beneath him...
"Now, Rome! NOW! NOW!..." he cried out just as the dam burst as he felt the hot, burning rivers of sperm erupting...in great, jerking spasms he poured himself into her, just barely hearing her cry out beneath him...
"YES! YES, yes...now, my darling...I'm cumming...I'm cuuummminnng!...oh, it's so hot......I can feel you...yes, now...now!..." She arched and bucked beneath him in great rolling circles, spreading her legs wide out into the air, and he rode her like a tiny chip of wood on a raging sea until at last the waters calmed and he collapsed on her, empty and so terribly weak.
She lay beneath him, trembling and moaning softly. He looked down at her and saw the wetness of tears, and then her smile, and knew then that she was crying from happiness and fulfillment. He kissed away the saltiness and held her gently until at last her quivering stopped and she lay still, almost unconscious.
Moments later, as he tenderly withdrew his deflated cock from her sperm-filled vagina and started to move away from her, he realized that she had either passed out or fallen asleep. He got off the bed as carefully as he could and stood beside her, a little weak-kneed, and stared at her breath-taking loveliness.
She lay there motionless, an erotic golden statue, her legs wide-spread and her soft, open pussy still glistening from the wetness that had flowed simultaneously from both their bodies. He never seen a more beautiful body in his life, he thought a little sadly in the aftermath of love, her breasts were large and full and she had such a small waist...
It was almost five in the morning when he shook her awake and told her that he had to leave in the darkness before someone saw him, but she held him against her telling him over and over again how much she loved him...and then she slid slowly down his body until her soft lips touched his still, limp penis.
Tenderly and caressingly, she took him into her mouth and ran her tongue back and forth until the flesh began to throb again and respond to her touch. She'd never opened her eyes and no words had been spoken, but she kept kissing him and tonguing the full roundness of his testicles, sliding her head slowly back and forth, and then a moment later with more urgency...
When he unexpectedly came into her mouth, it was different than it had been earlier and she swallowed it without regret. He had done it gentler and without the blinding lust that had filled him the first time, but in a way, even better and she loved him for it.
When she had licked away the last vestiges of his pungent cream-like orgasm, she hugged him tightly against the soft warmness of her body, and once again fell asleep.
* * *
It was a little after ten when Rome was awakened by the sound of people playing in the pool. She could see through a crack in the blinds that it was going to be a beautiful day, and she'd never felt happier in her life.
She lay curled in the comforting warmness of the bed and went over and over in her mind everything that had happened the night before. It had been so perfect, so much the way that she had always dreamed it would happen.
She tried to remember every single world Mario had spoken to her, tried in her mind to re-create the image of his eyes as he looked at her with such adoration and desire. She remembered the way he had talked of taking her on a cruise down the Black Sea, the Black Sea that joined Turkey to Russia and was bordered by so many small and romantic towns. He had talked of the cruise almost as if were to be their honeymoon, with the two of them the only people in the world, on a trip back into time-when Istanbul was still Constantinople, and Turkey the center of Eastern civilization.
She remembered how he had touched her, the unbelievable joy he had given her, and the words of love that he had whispered so tenderly in her ears as he made love to her...
It's so wonderful, she thought, to have the only man in the world that you could ever love, and to have him love you in return the same way.
Mrs. Cavaceppi, she laughed, I wonder how Father is going to like that!
Mario will probably want to wait, she thought, he'll say that it'll be better to wait until he's a more famous singer or when he has more money. I wonder what he'll say when he finds out I'm really Laura Williams, and that I'll have enough money to support us for the rest of our life when I reach twenty-one...six more months, and with my trust fund I'll almost be a millionairess.
Rome Williams, she thought sardonically, I'm Laura Williams-and I've found the only thing in the world I'll ever want! Sure, it was fun pretending to be a famous reporter, it might have even been fun to continue if I hadn't met Mario...but it's so much better to be who I really am, and to know that soon I'll be married to the most wonderful man in the world.
They could live anywhere in the world, she thought as she dressed, Capri or Majorca, and if he still wants to sing I'll have enough money to get him the breaks that he needs.
She wondered about going for a swim, but everything that had happened had made her so hungry that she thought she'd die if she didn't have breakfast first, and besides, she'd be able to see Mario that much sooner and tell him how wonderfully everything would work out...maybe I'll propose to him, she thought, that way he'll always know how much I love him...
She stopped at the registration desk first and cheerfully told Ishmael how much she appreciated the special service she had been getting, and then went into the dining room to look for Mario.
"Good morning, Miss Williams, I must say you look radiant this morning." She smiled at the maitre d' and wondered happily what he would say if he knew why.
"Good morning, Mustafa, thank you. Have you seen Mr. Cavaceppi yet this morning?"
He seemed to smile knowingly before he answered: "Yes, Miss Williams, he's having breakfast on the terrace with another gentleman."
She thanked him and as she walked outside she wondered if it really showed on her face as everyone said it did. I don't care, she thought, at least it shows that I'm a woman and not some innocent little child.
She felt her heart skip its rhythm when she saw Mario seated in the corner by the balcony railing. He's so damn attractive, and I wish that other man would go away so that we could be alone. She debated whether to go over and join them, but then thought that it would be better if she left him alone for a while in case they were talking business.
She took a table that gave her a clear view of his and waited for the waiter to take her order. Though every other man on the terrace seemed to have seen her from the way they stared, she could tell that Mario didn't know yet that she was there. It's better, she thought, now I can watch him through another person's eyes and see the way he acts with other people when I'm not around.
She watched him over her thick, black turkish coffee, and smiled with him as she saw him laughing. He seemed to be telling some sort of joke the way he was laughing and waving his arms around. It must be a joke with a woman in it, she thought as she saw him make that familiar gesture with his hands, describing a girl's shape.
Why the hell doesn't that other man go away so that I can have him here with me, and tell of the plans that I've made. We'll have a whole life together, but I still can't bear to share him with anyone.
Just then, ne looked around and she saw him recognize her. He paused for a moment and then waved and smiled-then he turned back to the other man for a moment and said something before he stood up. But, the other man got up also, and then the both of them headed for her table.
Oh, damn, she thought, well, he probably just wants to introduce me to him.
"Good morning, Rome, you look absolutely wonderful this morning," he said as he looked down at her. "Have a seat, Rico...Rome, this is Rico Doro, he's in our band." The other man pulled out a chair, and nodded with a smile as he sat down.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doro," she said briefly, and then turned to look wonderingly at Mario. "Aren't you sitting down, Mario?"
"I'd like to, Rome, but I have to go out to the desk for a moment. Rico will entertain you, won't you, Rico? He smiled, and then he was gone.
She tried to call him back, but it was too late-so she turned a little disappointedly to the other man. She tried to think of something to discourage the other man into leaving her alone, and then she realized that he had been talking to her.
"... should be back in a little while. I must say that Mario certainly has good taste," he said as he leered at her, like some villain in a low-budget movie, and stroked his pencil-thin mustache...and then mumbled something.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't understand, Mr. Doro."
"It's Rico to you, honey..." and brushed his little finger across his moustache again, "I said, he certainly has good taste, it's too bad he's married?"
"Married!" She couldn't believe she'd heard him clearly.
"He didn't tell?" he laughed. "Why that sly old devil?...and him with four little bambinos." He chuckled again, ignoring the tears that had begun to rim her eyes. "Well, he certainly told me about you...as a matter-of-fact, he suggested that you and me should get together."
He reached cross the table and took her hand, and then, as she tried to pull away from him, he added: "Hey, honey, don't get sore...I know old Mario's got quite a reputation with the broads, but confidentially, I'll betcha he ain't as good in the sack as I am..."
But his words had lost their audience as Rome ran blindly from the table, stumbling as she tried to hide the flood of tears.
Oh well, he thought as she disappeared inside, she probably wasn't as good as Mario said anyway.
CHAPTER 5
THE BLACK SEA
Two hours later Rome Williams stood on the deck of the Black Sea and felt the throbbing pulsations of the engines beneath her feet, and watched as the small tugboat prepared to pull the ship out of it's berth and guide it into the middle of the channel.
The harbor was teeming with activity and the excitement helped a little to erase the burning pain she felt. She had long since run out of tears, crying convulsively in her room, but the ache of losing something she felt so sure she would always have would remain for a long time.
She gripped the rail and watched the water churning beneath the stern. She knew that if she were to fall from the ship here that she'd be sucked into the huge twin screws before anyone could even sound an alarm. But, just as quickly as the thought had crossed her mind, she waved it away like a strand of fallen hair. No man will ever make me do that, she thought angrily, not a cheap, greasy Italian gigilo like Mario or anyone else! She felt tears start to fill her eyes at the thought of his name and turned angrily to concentrate on the small tug until she felt her emotions under control.
She listened to the sounds of the bullhorns and the whooping sound of a distant foghorn, and then felt the deck shift beneath her feet as the Black Sea began to back out of its mooring with a deep rumbling.
The wind tossed her hair about her shoulders and across her face and the salty air began to clear away the despair and self-pity she felt. I'm doing it, she thought, the Black Sea and the romantic towns, and there will be lot more men whose hearts I'll break. That conceited bastard!
She left the rail as they pulled out into the harbor and walked around the promenade deck watching the people wave from the shore as friends and relatives left with her on the huge white ship.
The Black Sea was one of two large cruise ships that traveled the Black Sea. The other, the Kemal Ataturk, was identical and they were both known commonly as The White Boat because no one bothered to try to tell them apart. She supposed there was room for about seven hundred passengers, many of them tourists like herself who made the complete round trip from Istanbul to the Russian border station at Batumi and back, and many of them travelers to one of the small stops along the way.
It would be about a six-day trip, hitting about eight towns and stopping at each twice, once in either direction.
The great drawbridge as it lifted to allow the ship through sent a wave of excitement through her. On the other side of that bridge, she thought, is a completely new world. A world I've only read about, and without any men like Mario. They'll be real people!
She wandered up to the bow, trying to avoid the throngs of people that brushed rudely past her, and watched the sailors at work as they loaded the last of the cargo into the lower holds.
She glanced with interest at some of her fellow passengers, looking unconsciously for some man who could fill the bottomless void she felt. She saw no one. Perhaps later, she thought, at dinner. She didn't like the Turkish men, they all looked alike to her. They all seemed to be short with the same type of straight little brush moustache, and they all smelled of heavy, sweet tobacco. She had seen a couple of Americans, blonde with short hair, and looking a little too neat and collegiate for her taste, and quite a few Rumanians or Russians.
Now, that would be quite an experience, she thought, to get mixed up with a Russian! That would really blow Father's mind, or maybe it would just wake him up enough so that he acted like a human being instead of an emotionless robot.
Suddenly, she felt very tired and decided to take a nap-their first stop wouldn't be for several hours and there didn't seem to be anything exciting to do in the meanwhile. This certainly doesn't seem like the wild life of a worldly and sophisticated roving reporter, she thought wryly.
She went down to the second deck to her private outside cabin and lay down, expecting to sleep only a couple of hours, but when she awoke they'd already made one stop in some little town she'd never heard of and were back out on the Black Sea again sailing in the darkness.
She lay there for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to get up. She still felt a little tired but she realized that if she went back to sleep all it would mean is that she'd wake up again in the middle of the night and never get back to sleep again. She couldn't face the thought of lying awake alone in her cabin in the dark early hours of the morning...there were too many things she didn't want to think about.
She forced herself to get up and get dressed. The dining room was still open and maybe after dinner she'd have enough cocktails to put her into a soundless sleep until morning.
Moments later, as she surveyed herself in the mirror she felt her confidence rise again. She'd washed the sleep from her eyes, and a little makeup and one of her more flattering dresses convinced her that if there was any eligible man aboard she probably wouldn't have very much trouble catching his attention, in fact, from the 80 women she'd seen earlier above deck, she might have a little trouble fighting him off.
She glanced once again at the mirror and was reaching to turn out the light when someone knocked on her cabin door.
"Yes, who is it?" she answered hesitantly.
"Your steward, Miss Williams."
"Alright, just a moment, please." She opened the door and found a man in gold-braided uniform standing there with an armful of roses.
"Miss Williams," he said, extending the flowers "with the Captain's compliments." He peered into the cabin. "May I put them in water for you, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you, and thank the Captain for me, will you?" she reached for her purse for a tip, but he stopped her.
"Please, no, Miss Williams, it is my pleasure. The Captain, he also asked me to inquire if everything is satisfactory, and if you are enjoying our ship. He didn't see you above deck when we docked at Razun and he was worried that you weren't feeling well."
"Please tell your Captain that I am grateful for his concern, but that I was only taking a nap. As a matter-of-fact, I was just preparing to go to din-her.
"Ah, that is wonderful, because he had also requested that you join him for dinner at the Captain's Table this evening." He smiled, and held out his arm, "May I escort you?"
He seemed to be so anxious for her to agree, and the idea not only of being seated at the Captain's Table, but also of not having to enter the dining room alone appealed to her. He held the door for her, turning out the light, and then she took his arm as they walked down the narrow passageway. They rolled with the slight movement of the ship and he seemed to be holding her more tightly than necessary, but she let it pass because she knew that there'd be no problem if he got out of hand and she decided to find other company.
"Actually, Miss Williams, I'm not your steward, I'm the 1st Officer but when I heard the Captain's request I volunteered to deliver the flowers." He paused, and looked at her expectantly. "I hope you don't mind my deception."
"Not at all, in fact I am very flattered. Thank you."
"Ah, here we are," he said as he opened the heavy wooden door to the dining room. "It's the large table to the left." Closing the door, he whispered softly: "I am very proud to have the envy of every man on board." Then, he added wistfully: "Perhaps, some other time I will have the honor of having you dine with me, rather than with our illustrious captain."
She noticed the sudden change in his tone, the anger at the mention of the captain, and wondered what he could have meant, but there was no time to dwell on it because the Captain and the other male guests at the table had risen to greet her.
The officer at her side led her to the Captain, came to attention and saluted. "Sir, may I present
Miss Williams. Miss Williams, our captain, Captain Chalem." As the older man bowed to her, the officer added softly: "If you'll excuse me, Miss Williams, I must get back to my duties," and with a begrudging half smile, turned and left.
As the captain continued the formality of introducing her to the others present at the table she thought to herself that even without the uniform she would have known Captain Chalem by his authoritative bearing. He was a very imposing man, much larger than the other Turks she had seen, and rather than the same type of moustache, he wore a full beard similar to those worn by the Indian Sikhs.
She sat in the chair that had been reserved for her at his left elbow, and after exchanging pleasantries with the other guests whose names she couldn't remember, she tried to follow the conversation. It had something to do with Turks and Russians and how much they despised each other but it held no interest for her and she thought a little disappointedly that there was no one at the table that seemed at all interesting. There was a German consul from Ankara and several textile manufacturers, but no one who appeared to be less than fifty. And the three other women at the table, rather drab in comparison to her, glared disapprovingly at the low neckline of the dress she was wearing.
Whenever she was able to without seeming rude, she glanced around the dining room in search of some interesting face but everyone seemed to be in about the same category as her dining companions.
It wasn't until after the rather long and boring dinner that she realized the insistent pressure of the Captain's knee against hers was no accident.
Why that old buzzard, she thought, and turned to study him more carefully.
It was simple for her to examine him because he kept his head turned from hers as if pretending not to notice her, or to at least give the impression to the other guests that he certainly wasn't making a play for her.
His age could have been anything with that beard, but she guessed him to be about fifty or fifty-five, and he seemed to be in very good physical condition. Dark hair and blue eyes, she thought, he could actually have been a very attractive man if there hadn't been something so very sinister about him.
She'd almost decided she'd been mistaken, when there it was again...his knee pushed against hers and he began to brush it against her thigh as he moved just slightly closer.
She tried to stifle the laugh but it came out before she could control it. He spun around to glare at her and she tried to change the laugh into a coughing sound as if something had caught in her throat. He stared at her for a second and seemed satisfied that it had in fact been no more than a cough, and once again pushed his leg against hers.
Rome was frightened by the cruel mask that had briefly crossed his face and felt a shiver run down her back. She could sense the brutality in the man if he were angered and wished that she could be sitting somewhere else away from him.
My God, she thought, the man's like a huge wild animal. How can he possibly think that I would feel anything for him when all he's done is turn away and rub that heavy leg against mine!
She tried to think of some way to excuse herself from the table when the Captain suddenly rose and addressed everyone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, shall we retire to the bar?" His question seemed to be more a command than a request, and the entire table rose in obedience.
"Miss Williams, will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you?" He didn't wait for her answer, though there would have been nothing she could have said, and took her arm. Then, like a game of follow-the-leader, they all filed into the cocktail lounge.
"Mustafa," he bellowed, "provide whatever our guests desire." The bartender ran hurriedly to each person and in seconds the bar was lined with drinks. Except for Rome's.
"Mustafa," the Captain said quietly, "the special cognac for Miss Williams."
"But, Captain...I really don't feel-like...."
"Please," he said and put a heavy hand possessively on her arm. "A really fine cognac, over two-hundred years old," and added almost coyly: "it is my only failing."
Only failing, my ass! she thought. And then she sat there with him while he went through some ridiculous ritual with his glass, lighting matches to heat it, and gargling funny noises, and peering over the glass at her like some lovesick walrus.
She made some appreciative remark about the brandy and tried to keep some distance between them, but each time she moved away he edged closer to press against her.
"Miss Williams, do you mind if I call you Rome...I've... . "
Uh oh, here it comes, she thought, but interrupted him aloud: "Of course not, Captain, Miss Williams sounds so formal."
"Rome it's not very often that the Black Sea has the honor of a guest as lovely as yourself, in fact, never have I seen a woman as beautiful...what I'm trying to say in my humble way," he interrupted himself with a self-indulging chuckle," is that I'm offering my services to you." Seeing the sudden question in her eyes, he added quickly, "I mean, traveling by yourself you must get lonely at times and I would be honored to offer my companionship."
I'll bet you would, she thought. There must be some way I can get out of this gracefully. "Captain Chamel, that's extremely kind of you and I promise I'll keep your generous offer in mind." She smiled coquettishly up at him. "But, this evening more than anything, I'm exhausted. Could I ask you to forgive me, and perhaps you could have someone escort me back to my cabin?"
"Nonsense, I'll take you there myself," he said cheerfully and rose clumsily to his feet.
Christ, now I've really done it! "Please, Captain, you've already been so kind, and I couldn't bear to impose on you any further...I mean, your guests... . "
"Those old buzzards! It would do us both good to get away from them. Please, I insist."
Minutes later, as he led her down the narrow gangway to her corridor, she was still trying frantically to think of some way to discourage him. Too soon they stood at her cabin door and as she fumbled for her key he put his arms around her and nuzzled his bristly beard against the back of her neck.
"Rome, I'm so glad you wanted to get away from the others." His hot brandied breath almost nauseated her and as she turned the key she slipped out of his grasp.
"Captain, please, you have to believe me," she said as she stepped inside the door, "I want you, but this is too fast for me, and I'm so exhausted that I feel faint... "
"But, I thought... "
"Captain, tomorrow, after I've had some rest, and after I've gotten to know you a little better." She moved forward quickly and kissed him on the cheek and then backed away. He reached for her just as she closed the door and all he heard was "tomorrow" with the sound of promise in her voice.
She stood behind the door listening for what seemed like hours, and then she heard him turn abruptly and walk back down the passageway.
Well, I suppose this is a little more like the life of a glamorous roving reporter, she thought a moment later as she climbed into bed. Now all I have to do is figure out some way to get out of tomorrow night! Then she recalled something she'd read in the ship schedules and jumped out of bed to get the folder that had her travel itinerary in it. Yes, there it was. The two ships, the Black Sea and the Kernal Ataturk covered exactly the same ports, the only difference being that they ran three days apart-as a matter-of-fact, the brochures even suggested that if you desired to lay over in a particular town you could use the same ticket and just take the second ship.
That's what she'd do! She'd get off in one of the towns tomorrow and catch the Kemal Ataturk three days later. God, it would solve all her problems. The captain, the fact that there was no one on this ship that interested her, and it would probably be more fun to spend a little while in one of the towns and get to know it better.
She stayed awake another half hour going through the travel brochure trying to decide where to disembark. She finally decided on Trabzon, the last Turkish town before the Russian border. From the information in the brochure it appeared to be the most interesting, being the oldest town in Turkey and described as having changed only slightly since die times of the Crusades.
When she finally turned out the fight she lay for a moment in the darkness smiling triumphantly at the clever way she had been able to work things out in her mind. Yes, she was learning to cope with things on her own. Perhaps she really was becoming that woman of the world, Rome Williams!
CHAPTER 6
MUSTAFA CEKUZ
Rome waved cheerfully up to the Captain while he glowered down at her from the ship's rail. With the noise of the ship's horns and the crowds and taxicabs it was impossible to hear anything else.
"Take that, you stupid old bastard!" she shouted. From her friendly smile and expression anyone would have thought she was yelling no more than a fond farewell because the wind and the noise carried away the sound of her words.
I hope he doesn't read lips, she thought gleefully as she turned away and hailed a nearby taxi.
She told the driver to just drive around for a while so that she could see the town. It took several minutes for him to understand what she meant, and it took even longer for her to understand that when he nodded his head, saying yes, that it meant that he had no idea at all what she was talking about. Apparently, he didn't want her to know that he didn't speak English so he just nodded at anything she said.
As they drove around Rome began to realize that Trabzon was completely different than Istanbul, or any part of Turkey that she had seen, and she began to wonder if she was right in staying there for three days. If there hadn't been a few cars and trucks scattered about the town would have looked just as it had several hundred years earlier. She could see almost no signs of modernization and almost everyone on the streets wore native clothing instead of Western-style suits and dresses. The men wore black baggy trousers and dirty beaded vest-like garments and the few women that she saw wore full-length dark robes that were hooded, and they all held the lower part of the hood across their faces so that only their eyes showed.
The only signs of activity seemed to be down by the water where some fishermen stood around mending nets, and at the several little tea houses she saw lining the narrow little streets. None of the men that she saw really seemed to be doing anything, but she passed women carrying unbelievable loads strapped to their backs. Perhaps spending their whole life carrying loads like that is what gave all the women that bent over, hunchbacked appearance, but their posture combined with the long black robes made them all look like evil witches in a child's book of fairy tales.
Rome shuddered as she thought of the life that these people must lead. She could tell by the way the whole town turned out for the arrival of the Black Sea that life offered very little excitement in Trabzon, and she wondered what she would find to do that would occupy three days.
Finally, as they circled the town for about the fourth time she saw a hotel she'd passed earlier and tapped the driver on the shoulder, pointing to it.
As she got out of the taxi she noticed that everyone had turned to stare at her. At first she didn't understand, but as she followed their glances she realized that it was her short mini-skirt that attracted all the attention. If she had known that perhaps only two or three times a year did women in Western dress visit Trabzon, and then almost never alone, never beautiful, and never dressed in anything such as she was wearing...she might have correctly interpreted their stares. As it was, she mistakenly accepted their looks as a compliment.
To the men of Trabzon, her dress and the way she looked was as shocking to them as it would be for a New Yorker to walk down Madison Avenue and see a girl completely nude coming toward him. It was true, naturally that because of her looks, Rome was very appealing to them but at the same time they were angered by what they considered her immoral lack of modesty. To them, no part of a woman's body should ever be seen by anyone except her husband, and this privacy was considered sacred. It was a tribal custom of the Moslems that had endured through thousands of years, and it had, in fact, one great redeeming feature...how could one man covet another's wife when he had never seen her...and how could he ever know that his wife was not the most beautiful because he had none but the whores in the compound to compare her with?
But, Rome Williams knew nothing of this as she strode gracefully into the hotel to register. Inside the gloomy and musty lobby she fought the urge to turn back, but realized that she probably wouldn't be able to find another hotel that was any better. It took a moment for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkened room. She saw no one behind the desk and waited a little bewildered until the cab driver ran in and shook a long string of bells that hung by the door.
In a moment, a tiny wizened little Turk in a turban and looking about a hundred years old appeared behind the desk. He nodded toothlessly at the driver, but when he saw Rome his eyes flashed and he made little clicking sounds of disapproval deep in his throat.
He stared at her intently for a moment.
"Your passport," and he held out a claw-like hand.
He snatched it from her and studied it very carefully and then walked over to a telephone on the wall. As he cranked the handle he watched her as if he expected her to run away, then he spoke rapidly in Turkish to someone on the other end.
Rome became very frightened. She didn't know what he was doing, or who he was calling, and she began to feel almost like a prisoner...
Then, abruptly he hung up the receiver and handed her her passport and a register for her to sign. When she returned the book to him he read it very carefully and then handed a dusty key to the cab driver. They spoke together for a second, and then the driver beckoned to her.
"You to follow me, yes."
She followed him, carrying her own luggage, and trailed by the strange disapproving clicks from the old man. They climbed a narrow rickety stairway and then she found herself in a horrible little room, dirty and musty, but with one of the most beautiful carpets she had ever seen gracing the floor.
After the taxi driver had opened the windows he took a short stub of pencil and a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and wrote something before he handed it to her. She looked at it curiously until she realized that, because he spoke no English, it was the only way he could tell her how much she owed him.
She paid him, not knowing whether it covered the cost of the room, and as she computed the exchange rate, she found that it came to something near seventy cents.
An hour later she went out to explore some of the small shops she had passed in the taxi, and again she made the mistake of changing into a light summer outfit that was at least as short as the other had been.
It was still early in the afternoon and another beautiful day. Rome walked cheerfully through the winding little streets, never noticing that the wind blew her short skirt around until at times the white lace of her panties was almost revealed...and as she peered curiously into the little shops, the rug stalls, and wandered through the bazaars, she never realized that she had almost become a parade. A group of men and children crept surreptitiously along behind her watching every move she made and watching the flesh of golden skin as her long legs moved gracefully beneath the short skirt. Only the women avoided her, crossing the cobbled streets when they saw her coming and averting their eyes as she passed by.
Rome was amazed by the startling beauty of the Persian-type rugs she saw lying in great heaps n the rug stalls, and by the beautiful cashmere clothing and pure gold jewelry.
She explored each shop she passed, and followed each curving, narrow cobbled street and it was after six and with considerable difficulty in finding her way back, when she returned to the hotel.
A slight breeze off the Black Sea had cooled and aired out her room. It had been a glorious and exciting day, she thought as she relaxed on the bed. She had begun to feel like an explorer in a strange untouched land, and the uneasiness that she'd felt earlier disappeared as she realized she had nothing to fear from those people...just curiosity she thought...and closed her eyes and slept.
* * *
Rome sipped her brandy and gazoz, a Turkish soft drink, and watched the unbelievable contortions of the belly dancer on the rug in the center of the floor. She couldn't believe that a person could move that many muscles! It's too bad, she thought, that the girl wasn't more attractive-too heavy and missing two of her front teeth but she sure knows how to dance. The dancer was accompanied by three musicians and their music which had been unpleasant to her at first had become very soothing. Two of them played weirdly shaped stringed instruments and the other held a toilet-shaped drum beneath his arm and played it by flicking backwards with his fingers.
She ordered another brandy and laughed to herself as she recalled again what had happened to her only minutes earlier. She'd felt the need of a bathroom and after seeing the dancer and a couple of men go through a door at the end of the room she had realized that the restrooms were back there.
But, she'd been a little confused when she'd gone through the door and found only one room. It was obviously the bathroom from the odor and she'd wondered if they ever cleaned it. A strangely shaped device in the corner caught her attention and it took a moment for her to realize what it was. There was a shallow concave depression in the concrete floor with a hole in the center, and to each side of the hole were two raised cement footprints. Then she saw the urinal on the other side of the room and realized that she'd come into the men's room by mistake.
She turned hurriedly to leave and almost bumped into the belly dancer who nodded briefly to her before she went over to that concrete thing. She pulled off the tiny pair of sequined pants she was wearing and then half-squatted above the hole, carefully putting one foot on each of the raised footsteps. Embarrassed, Rome turned to leave when her way was blocked by a man who'd just entered. She tried to stammer an apology but he brushed past her to the urinal and became engaged in a live conversation with the dancer while he too relieved himself.
Rome felt the heat bringing a flush to her face as she backed awkwardly from the room. She couldn't believe what she'd seen. She was still blushing when she walked into the cabaret and could only smile weakly as several of the Turkish men realized what had happened and laughed at her discomfort.
Suddenly, her thoughts were brought back to the present by the abrupt silence that filled the room. Rome turned, and saw everyone's attention focused on the dancer, who stood motionless, and then as she nodded to the musicians she began to play with the hooks that fastened her costume. The men began to whistle and applaud, and then quieted in anticipation as the dancer moved until she stood directly in front of Rome.
Rome knew that the girl's impromptu striptease was solely for her benefit, and wasn't sure why-except that the girl probably intended to embarrass her. Rome was determined that wouldn't happen, or at least if she was embarrassed she wasn't going to let anyone know.
She smiled and raised her glass in salute and the girl threw her tiny sequined bra to the floor and danced before her with her breasts completely bare. When the dancer realized that she wasn't getting the desired response from the beautiful American girl she turned disgustedly away and danced for the men. Her hips revolved in slow circles as she cupped her breasts in her hands and then she began to move her abdomen with fantastic flexibility until it looked as if she had no spine or bones. Then, she stopped suddenly and ripped her panties away...dropping to her knees and going into a back bend before the men...with her legs widespread she ground her hips around and around, relishing the hunger in their eyes.
Rome noticed with a shock that she was completely clean-shaven. It looks so strange she thought to herself, I wonder why she's done it?
Someone, apparently the manager or owner, burst into the room suddenly and began shouting at the girl. Waving his arms like a madman, and to the merriment of the customers, he tried to grab the girl and the pieces of the costume and get her out of the room. He kept shouting something about "politsiya" which Rome guessed to mean police, and then he disappeared, dragging the girl with him.
Well, apparently, Rome thought to herself, there's a limit even in Turkey as to how far you can go in a nightclub. Shaved? Hmmmm, I wonder why.
The short-lived show had done something to stimulate the crowd because everyone seemed to be ordering louder and faster. Rome knew that because she was the only girl in the room she should leave but she didn't relish the idea of returning to that dingy, empty room so soon. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep because of her nap, and she was beginning to wish that she had stayed on the ship and taken her chances with Captain Cha-len.
The room got louder and one of the men got up to do an impromptu dance for Rome, and as he tired he was replaced by another, and another. She began to really enjoy herself...the dancing was really quite exciting, somewhat like the Greek "Hopa" and it was very flattering to have every man in the room showing off just for her...
As she emptied her brandy and turned to order another, the waiter appeared to ask her if she would accept a drink from one of the men. She nodded without thinking, and no sooner had he set the first one down than every man in the room was clamoring to buy her a drink. Before she could protest, her table was lined with glasses.
"Miss, the brandy is good, but not so much of it," a slender pock-marked Turk stood at her side and breathed licorice anise fumes down at her. "Can I offer you our national drink," and he thrust a glass into her hand. She knew from the smell that it was raid, but then he poured a little water into it and it turned milky white. She sipped it tentatively and found that it was very good, especially after the harsh Turkish brandy.
"Thank you very much," she said and raised her glass in salute. Then before she could refuse him he had seated himself beside her at the table.
"My name ees Mustafa, an' yours is Beautifool, eh?" He laughed and nudged her with his elbow. She could see now how drunk he was, his eyes were completely glassed over and his words were thick and slurred.
"No...no, please, I prefer to be alone..." but he only looked at her as if she'd never said a word.
"Hey, Beautifool, you like me, no?" He looked lewdly at the front of her dress... "hey, an' your tits, they nicer than the belly dancer, no?" He reached clumsily for her and missed as she jerked away. "You no like me to touch, eh...but dey are big, for a man to hold, eh?". .
Rome looked frantically around the room for help, but as she saw the men's faces she could see that they would do nothing to interrupt what was a show to them. She saw someone come into the room, someone tall and blonde, but before she could get his attention, Mustafa reached across and this time caught her breast and squeezed it painfully with his fingers.
"Owwwwl Please, please, no...no!..." she tried to pull his hand away but he was too strong for her.
"You got nice tits...big, I like that," and then he shouted something to the rest of the room in Turkish that caused everyone to laugh loudly.
He turned back to her, still holding her breast in one hand, and then he shouted: "Yass, tits are good, but how about dis!" and he rammed his other hand unexpectedly between her legs, brushing her panties aside until his fingers probed at the suddenly vulnerable opening of her vagina.
Without even knowing what she was doing, she slapped him with all her might. The force of the blow knocked him off balance and he fell sideways from the chair onto the floor.
The loud crack of her hand across his face quieted the room, and then suddenly all the men began to laugh at the drunken man as he struggled to get up.
Rome felt the sting still in the palm of her hand, and she tried to wipe away the tears in her eyes...she couldn't believe the way he'd grabbed her in front of all those people...
"You bitch! I will kill you!" Mustafa screamed-and got slowly to his feet. The glaze across his eyes had turned to hatred and Rome cringed in terror.
It happened so fast that she didn't know where it came from, but in a sudden glint of light a long switchblade knife appeared in his hand.
The room was absolutely silent, and then Rome screamed.
She didn't know what happened next, she saw him lunge at her...the knife...and then he was lying on the floor.
"Come on, Miss, get up...hurry, goddamit!"
The tall blonde man she'd seen earlier grabbed her and half pulled, half dragged her across the floor. He shouldered his way through the confused throng of smaller Turkish men and pushed her through the door.
"Hurry! they'll all be out here in a minute!" He pulled her, stumbhng down the stairs and into a car he had outside. They'd just barely pulled away from the curb when about ten men poured out of the doorway and jumped for the car...but they were too late, and in seconds they were only shadows in the distance.
Rome broke into convulsive sobs, and tears streamed down her face.
"Go ahead, Miss, cry all you want...you've had an awfully rough time."
"I don't understand!...what happened?...He tried to kill me!" She buried her head against the strange man's shoulder and tried to recall the scene in the cabaret, but she could remember nothing after that horrible Turk had come after her with a knife...
"Miss, there's nothing for you to worry about, the man was drunk and tried to hurt you but I was able to stop him."
"But...I-I don't understand...who are you?"
"My name is Scott Bernard. I came in when that man was bothering you. What in the hell were you doing in there alone anyway! Do you realize you almost got killed..." His voice became harsh... "and that goddam dress, don't you know anything about these Turks! Christ! You're just begging for trouble dressing like that." He saw her start to cry again, and added softly: "Miss, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you...it's just that...well, you may have gotten us into a lot of trouble. Oh hell, I'll go into that later. What's your name?"
"Laura...I mean, Rome...Rome Williams ....I didn't know I was doing anything wrong...I always dress like this...I still don't understand...what did I do?"
It was another ten minutes before Scott stopped the car in front of a darkened house outside of Trabzon, and during those few minutes he tried to explain to her how primitive Trabzon was, and how easy it was for a girl in modern clothes to excite the Turkish men. The only girls the men ever really had a chance to see were dancers, like the one that night, from Istanbul, or the girls in the state-controlled whorehouse, The Compound.
It was no wonder that they had almost gone into a frenzy when they saw her come into the bar alone.
"Hell, I almost did myself," he said and laughed as they got out of the car, "I'm stationed here with the American Air Force, and I don't know how long it's been since I've seen a pretty girl from home."
He took her hand to keep her from stumbling on the steep stairway. "I can't wait to take you out to the base in the morning...wait'll those guys see you. I may get promoted to General!"
"Tomorrow," she said quizzically, "Why can't we go out to the base tonight?"
"Let's get inside, Rome, before anyone sees us, and I'll explain." He locked the door carefully behind him and spent a couple of minutes turning on lights and mixing them both a drink. He noticed as he came back into the room that she seemed to have regained her composure. She sat on the couch, the fear had gone from her eyes, and waited for him to explain what had happened.
"Here, girl, drink this," he said handing her a glass of brandy. "Look, we can't go out to the base tonight because they're probably looking for us."
"Looking...who? What have we done...I don't understand."
"Rome, goddammit, let me finish," he answered angrily. "I know you don't know anydiing about Turks, or at any rate, about Trabzon...and that's not your fault, but we could be in a hell of a lot of trouble."
She sat stiffly against the couch, her fingers gripping her glass, and he saw the terror in her eyes.
"Listen, I know you've never come up against anything like this before, but don't worry too much-I'll get you out of it. I just want to explain this to you so that you'll understand how serious it is." He paused and put his arm around her, trying to console her, and felt her come against him like a frightened child.
"This Trabzon, its not like Istanbul...these people have their own laws down here and they can change them any way that they want to. None of us can do anything about it...hell, we're not even American soldiers here, we're NATO, and under the jurisdiction of the Turkish Government..." he added a little bitterly... "which in this case if Mustafa Cekuz, the guy who tried to knife you."
She suddenly broke against him, and the wracking sounds of her crying filled the small room. He held her for a moment trying to calm her down.
"Rome, please don't worry...all we have to do is stay away from him until I can get you out to the base and get you on a plane. Cekuz is the head of the Turkish police here and you humiliated him in front of half the men in town. He'll do everything in his power to find you...he'd probably pin some phony charge on you and throw you in the compound, and me in jail, for that matter.
"Rome...listen to me...listen, everything's going to be alright. Hell never find us here! This place belongs to a German friend of mine out at the base and he's on vacation. No one has any idea that I'd bring you here...and then, in the morning I'll get somebody to pick us up and take you to the base. They can fly you out of here in the Colonel's plane and you'll be in Greece in a matter of hours."
The gentleness in his voice, and his assurance that everything would be alright slowly began to calm her down. She lay there with her head against his shoulder and her mind whirled with the memory of everything that had happened to her in only three days. She began to feel a little better. It's certainly been exciting enough, she thought. God! they're never going to believe this when I get home.
She burrowed her head against Scott's shoulder, snuggling against him and wanting to feel the warmth and strength of his body.
"Scott, you've done so much for me," she whispered, "I've gotten you into so much trouble...w-what about you?...where will you go?"
"Don't worry about me, Rome, I think that once Cekuz finds out that you're out of the country, he'll probably drop the whole thing rather than stir up trouble with the base. We may not be able to do anything legal, but if we decided to stop hiring Turks on the base it would make him pretty unpopular." He held her tightly, rocking her against him like a small child and thinking to himself that he'd never seen a more beautiful girl in his life. He was wishing that she either wasn't so desirable or that it hadn't been almost a year since he'd had a girl in his arms, when she suddenly reached up and kissed him.
"Scott, you're so wonderful," she said softly as she pulled away from him. "You've actually saved my life, and there's nothing I can offer in return."
"Well," he said huskily, "there is something." He tried to laugh as he added: "Please don't kiss me like that... you're so beautiful, and I haven't held a girl for so long...I don't know if I can control myself...Rome, why don't you go into the bedroom and try to get some sleep."
She could feel the slight trembling in his arms as she leaned back and looked into his eyes.
"And you, Scott, where will you sleep?"
"Well, I-I'll stay here on the couch. There's plenty of room." He tried to avoid her glance as he stood up.
"Scott, give me a hand, will you?" He reached down and as he pulled her up, she came into his arms. "Scott, I'd be afraid to sleep alone-please come with me..." and she meant it. She couldn't stand another minute by herself.
Neither of the spoke a word as they went into the darkened bedroom. She stood motionless while he undressed her and then waited in a turmoil of fright and desire as he removed his clothes.
Scott led her to the bed and lay down beside her...she felt a hot wave of delicious electricity jolt through her as his naked skin touched hers...
CHAPTER 7
MUSTAFA CEKUZ
Rome lay on her back, just barely hearing the sounds of the thunderstorm outside, her hands clenching and unclenching as Scott's lips traced a maddening, tormenting trail across her breasts...
His hands kindled a relentless fire in her body and she felt the burning heat between her thighs each time his fingers brushed the soft, silken mound of now passion-moistened hair between her straining legs.
"Oh, my God! Yes...Scott...please, now...I want you to . .
But her words were shattered by a thunderous crash outside the bedroom-much too loud to be a part of the storm! Scott jerked away from her and tried to get up and then she felt him go suddenly still as the room was filled with a blinding light...
"Ahh...our American Hero and his little friend! Did you really think that I could not find you?"
Rome felt her throat catch in horror as the menacing form of Mustafa Cekuz filled the door, surrounded by the silhouettes of several uniformed Turkish policemen.
"Scott!" she cried out in terror, and tried to pull the covers up around her.
Cekuz and two of the men moved into the bedroom, and when Scott tried to get up, one of them swung the butt of his rifle at his head. The blow knocked the American into the corner where he lay moaning softly.
"Get him out of here, and wait outside!" Cekuz ordered angrily.
Rome buried her head in the pillow and tried not to listen to the sound of Scott being dragged from the room. Then, it was quiet for a moment except for Cekuz' soft chuckling.
"So, you American whore, you think you can slap Cekuz and get away with it, eh?" He reached down and grabbed the covers and threw them to the floor. He hit her so hard on her bared buttocks that she screamed in pain and rolled away from him.
"You pig! I'll teach you to hit Cekuz!"
He began to beat her with the palm of his hand, laughing as she tried helplessly to avoid the blows. Each time she turned frantically away from him she only exposed another part of her naked body and felt the stinging pain of his hand.
It seemed to last for hours.
And then finally he stopped, and she lay there in agony as her quivering body tried to recover from the tortuous punishment. Her whole body hurt and stung as if the barbs of millions of hornets had pierced her skin simultaneously.
Cekuz laughed as he looked down at her trembling, naked body and listened to the soft, mewling sounds of her cries, and then he began to remove his clothes. He took his time, removing each piece of clothing slowly, and watching her trembling body hungrily as he carefully folded his trousers...then he muttered something angrily to himself as the young girl stopped quivering and he realized that she had fainted-from the horrible fear of what was to come at the hands of this uncivilized beast of a man.
* * *
Rome thought that she must be dreaming. She floated in that semi-conscious level that existed somewhere between dreams and reality, not opening her eyes, not trying to. Her arms felt numb and her ankles hurt, and her mind whirled as she drifted back and forth in this strange, unreal dream. She felt like she was being tossed about by roaring gusts of wind, like an autumn leaf in a September storm. Her arms strained in their sockets and hurt each time she moved. She made a conscious effort to awaken, to stop the pain, to force her eyes open.
What! here? And then she remembered the door bursting open...the man slapping her...
She had to get out of there! She tried to jump up, but she couldn't move. Then Rome realized that her feet and hands were securely bound.
She was tied spread-eagle to the bed! She tried to wrench free of the cords that held her stretched tight on the mattress. They cut into the soft skin of her wrists and she cried out with the pain.
She jerked at the sudden sound of the door opening and she turned terror-stricken to face two strange men. She watched from the strained position of her corded neck as they pushed silently into the room, and then stood aside for Mustafa Cekuz.
He came to the edge of the bed and stared down at her wide-spread legs, a leering, sardonic smile on his swarthy face, and then motioned the men forward. "Very pretty, isn't she?" He turned laughing to them. "It's a shame she decided to be so unkind to us." The liquor had gone from his speech and Rome thought fleetingly that his English wasn't actually broken at all, in fact he spoke very fluently.
"You, my young friend, have done a very terrible thing," he said softly. "You have flaunted your whorish body before men and have made love publicly with a man that was not your husband."
He stood there, laughing at the pleading in her eyes, and talking as much for his men's benefit as for hers.
"As for that man, the stupid American, I'm afraid you won't be seeing him again. He thinks you are to be pardoned and put on the next White Boat for Istanbul...and the threat of his imprisonment was enough to guarantee that he'd say nothing about what has happened." He leaned forward abruptly and slashed across the face with the back of his hand...then, as she recoiled in pain, he added: "You stupid Americans! You come to run our country with your money and young citizen soldiers-and think you can understand the minds of men who controlled the whole world long before your self-satisfied existence ever came into being."
He stood angrily above her. "Trabzon is mine! I rule this City, and I make the laws! We are strong and soon you will feel the strength of a Turkish man!"
She tried frantically to turn away from him, to hide her eyes and blank out the horrible vision of the man who stood taunting her, but he turned imperiously to one of the men who waited behind him and ordered them to hold her still.
"You cannot turn away, you slut! I want you to see me as I take your body and use it like a cheap, inferior toy! And..." He paused, "I want you to think all the while that it is only the beginning."
Cekuz slowly untied the belt of the robe he had taken from the closet. "Rome Williams, first you'll have me, and then my men...and then youll feel the seed of thousands of Turkish men pumped into your soft, young belly!" He dropped his robe to the floor, and spat the last three words at her:
"IN THE COMPOUND!"
She screamed in terror as he approached her. He was completely naked, his body wiry and strung with ropes of pulsing muscle, and jutting from a curled bush of coiled hair, his penis bobbed jerkily at her-massive and swollen with lust and lined with throbbing veins. He came closer and closer until he stood only inches from her face.
"There! That is what we Turks have for you American bitches! A weapon that has tasted the lips of conquered women since time began." He turned to the men at his side. "Hold her, I want her to savor the taste of defeat," and he bent forward until the tip of his penis brushed against her clenched lips. A thin stream of fluid rimmed the edge of the swollen head as he ran it across her mouth, and she felt the acrid bitterness moisten her lips.
"NNoooooo...please, PLEASE!" Her cries filled the room as he continued to run the heavy hardness of his prick across her face.
"Shut up! You'll need your mouth for other things, you teasing slut!"
Rome struggled violently in the hands of the man that held her, but it was no use...then, when Cekuz bent lower and she felt the heat and the unpleasant smell of his breath, she spat into his face.
Her breath was knocked out of her as his fist sank into her stomach and then the flat of his hand struck her face with such force that for a moment she felt nothing. She rocked back as a blow lashed her other cheek, and then his hands were slashing her breasts and she was rolling frantically from side to side, trying to escape while fists lashed across her shoulders, her buttocks, everywhere with stinging power, and she was held so tightly by other hands so that her punishment could be effected without resistance.
Mustafa Cekuz stood back after a few minutes and motioned to the two others to let her go. She lay before them, slim and voluptuously rounded, and trembling from the force of his blows. She seemed for a moment to be dazed, and there were angry red marks on her heaving, ivory-skinned body. He was excited by the beating he'd just administered, the soft yielding of the flesh beneath his hands, its warmth and resilience-and his huge penis stood throbbing and bulging between his legs.
"Now, I'm going to fuck you until you wish you were dead, and then, maybe my men will have other things they'd like to do to you."
The other two laughed softly, menacingly, and then their hands were forcing her down onto the bed and spreading her thighs. She tried to struggle, trying to fight or kick, but her wrists and ankles were still bound so tightly that she was barely able to move.
"Cut her loose," he ordered the two men," and turn her over...hold her tight!"
They cut the ropes that held her, and she felt the sting of circulation returning to her aching limbs, and then she was thrown roughly onto her stomach.
"Kneel up!" he commanded. She tried to force herself flatly onto the bed, crying as much with rage as with fear. The hands moved off her shoulders and one of them grabbed her arm and twisted it up behind her shoulder blades-and others reached beneath her hips and wrenched her up bodily. She tried helplessly to combat the strength used against her but it was useless, even though she continued to struggle and swing her buttocks frantically back in the air in a useless effort to escape.
The twisting of her arm forced her face down hard against the bedcover and her hips were lifted high in the air while she swayed and struggled punily against their greater strength.
She gasped with pain as, suddenly, there was a thick intrusion which felt as if a log was being pushed into her dry, unwanting vagina. She screamed out for them to stop, tears streaking her cheeks, but the intrusion grew, and she felt her thighs being swept wide apart. The heavy weight of his loins crashed against her, pushing her face hard into the bed with every hot pain that seared the stretched and tortured lips of her vagina. Her vaginal passage felt on fire. The great penis penetrating it felt Like sandpaper, scraping and rubbing her raw from the inside.
She moaned and screamed in pain, her numbed fingers clawing at the bed, and her back aching horribly from her crouched position.
She felt hands-many hands, the other men's hands-running over her buttocks. She felt them probing-and then she felt someone trying to force a finger into the tiny puckered opening of her anus.
Soft whimpering screams of breath broke from her lips, and the burning passage of her vagina felt as if its walls were being chafed and rasped into the rawness of broken skin. Then she began to lubricate a little and the pain was a little less, but the penetration greater, until she felt as if her whole belly were being split open, as if someone was levering apart her thighs until her body would split all the way up from her pelvis right through a line between her naked breasts.
Kneeling behind her prostrate body, Mustafa Cekuz gritted his teeth and fucked in and out with great lunges which began from his toes and quivered up through his strong, wiry thighs to reach a zenith of sensation in his tough, iron-hard prick.
He burst into her, pushing her flesh in all directions, making a path for his entry as if his phallus was a bulldozer tunneling through the earth.
His hands gripped her body, squeezing with sadistic force, hurting her, making her cry out struggle helplessly with pain.
His balls itched with trembling desire and his prick tingled with the shock of knowing that she was completely at his mercy. He ran his hands over the tormented flesh that, though unwilling and weakly resisting, was completely under his control.
He tore the buttocks apart, spreading them obscenely, revealing the hard, little anus-red and raw-looking, and into which his fingers slipped without too much difficulty. He buried his prick into her up to the hilt, encountering only slight resistance over the last inch. Her channel was pulverizingly tight around his rigid shaft, and its squeezing clasp brought forth oaths and gasps of pleasure from his thin compressed lips.
Rome, shamed and in terrible pain, her face sideways against the covers, felt only the great heat and splitting hurt at her loins. Her lips opened and closed in torment, and hopelessly she tried to flatten her hips or draw her buttocks in to contain the flaming pain of her anus. But then she was made more aware of the tightening of her vagina and the extra pain caused by the clenching of those muscles.
Suddenly, there were fingers at her lips, opening her mouth, and then a spongy, stiff substance rubbing at her lips. Terrified, she opened her eyes and saw, close under them, a prick almost eight inches long-thick and swollen in proportion.
One of the other men was lying alongside her, forcing his penis into her mouth. She resisted violently, sickened, but then he held her nose between his finger and thumb and, as she finally gasped for breath, the thick sword of flesh rammed in, crushing through her soft moist lips, between her even teeth, and into the heated saliva of her mouth.
She felt it on her tongue, his great blunt, hot thing, tearing her attention in brief spasms from the continuous piercing of her vagina and the huge pounding shaft that crashed against her cervix and made her jerk forward in pain.
The trouser-covered hips behind the thrusting prick began to undulate in toward her, and the fat, swollen shaft began to slide in and out of her mouth, never quite withdrawing, always leaving an inch or two past her lips in the warm shelter of her mouth.
She closed her eyes in disgust and pain-all of her mouth that was left after the great expanding rod rammed down her throat toward her tonsils began to fill with saliva.
Once or twice she coughed or spluttered, but then she became accustomed to probing, choking entry, and let it move in and out with increasing force, ramming into her at a faster pace than the driving prick that so ruthlessly filled her throbbing cunt.
Mustafa Cekuz felt himself beginning to cream. He squeezed her flesh in his hands so that it grew up in great ridges, and then when he released her the ridges settled slowly back into her flesh, leaving only red marks fringed with white bloodlessness on her skin.
Each time he thrust now he felt the imminence of his orgasm grow greater, the tickling deep inside his body growing until he felt as if he'd explode in lust and ecstasy.
And, each time he thrust he saw the tender lips of her mouth clasping the pulsing, throbbing prick of the man who lay beside her...and Mustafa timed his rhythm with the writhing hips of the man who forced her to suck him...
Rome obeyed the command of the fingers that forced her mouth to follow the movements of the man's prick, sucking and licking the great tree-like shaft in her mouth. Her torture had gone on and on, and now all she could do was pray for it to end, and so she sucked to end it quickly.
She felt the man's loins crush into her face, the wooly harshness of his trousers as they banged against her lips, and then she felt his penis tensing in great, trembling movements. His hands gripped her cheeks and then her hair, and he seemed to be trying to force his cock down her throat to meet the other coming in from her cunt...
Then...the man lying beside her gasped once, twice and then again, crushing his hips into her face until she was suffocating and fighting for breath. And, as she struggled for air, her mouth was flooded with a flowing torrent of hot, thick liquid that choked her and slithered down her throat...and at the same time, the prick in her mouth began to jerk spasmodically and lose its size and weight. It seemed like an eternity before he began to move away and she was able to breath again, to open her mouth and spit out the remaining vestiges of sticky fluid that stuck to her tongue and palate.
Finally, she was able to catch her breath and it only brought back to her the burning pain of the tireless bludgeon that pounded into her cunt, and seemed as broad and deep and hot as her whole body itself. No other feeling came to her except the painful chafing where Cekuz' prick scraped against her vaginal wall, but she knew that his orgasm too, was coming...
She heard him panting, faster and faster, and he forced her thighs so wide that she was almost flat on the bed, with her hips and her pelvis hurting horribly from the unbelievable stretching. His fingers gripped the tops of her thighs with unrelenting and increasing pressure as he drove deeper and harder into the surrounding heat of her body.
She heard him gasp out some words in Turkish that she couldn't understand, and then through her pain-blinded senses felt him thrust into her so hard and seemingly so deep that it seemed as if his penis had been transformed into a spear that had reached the very center of her being.
She felt his convulsive jerking against her buttocks, a hot, thick flooding of her belly, and then, he too, fell away from her...and there was suddenly cool air washing across the tortured lips of her cunt...cooling and comforting the terrible pain. She fell forward onto the bed, crying bitterly and aching all over as if her body had been clamped into a huge vise and then probed with fiery rods of molten metal.
While she lay sobbing, the two men began to recover.
She lay there in semi-consciousness, trying to blind her mind and senses to the horrible degradation and debasement she'd suffered. Through the light of almost darkness she could hear them talking, and it was apparent from their joking remarks that the third man, who'd been only a spectator, preferred men instead of women.
She felt a moment of vast relief, until she heard them urging him to complete what Mustafa Cekuz referred to as her punishment. She lay there sobbing, unable to move or protect herself from further assault, and tried not to think about anything that had happened, or would happen.
Above her, the third man began to remove his belt...his teeth drawn back in a vicious grin.
The belt was of think shiny leather and he held it at the buckle end and motioned to the others to hold the girl. Mustafa Cekuz sat on her feet, and the other held her shoulders. Both of them kept well back from her torso, leaving it free.
The man with the belt looked down on her pummeled body that still bore the faint, dying traces of her savage rape, and his chest tingled with excitement. This time he'd leave more permanent traces, he thought sadistically. The thought of watching his belt bite into her flesh-the woman-flesh that he disliked so intensely-filled him with eager animalistic delight.
He raised the belt and lashed it down across her buttocks. She screamed faintly and exhaustedly and her body jacknifed but was held down firmly by the other two men.
The belt rose and descended again in the same thin fine, and then it flashed up and down, up and down until her back from thighs to shoulders was a grill of welts, and her body trembled and squirmed as if in death throes.
Finally he lowered his arm and began to buckle the belt around his waist once again. Mustafa
Cekuz looked down at the still, almost lifeless form and grinned meanly.
"Get her up...and get her dressed." He began to put on his uniform as the other two men struggled to get the unconscious girl into her clothes. "We'll keep her locked in my place until we can put her before the tribunal for trial tomorrow."
He laughed viciously as the men struggled to keep from dropping her. "Better be careful with her now, we don't want any bruises to show at the trial...and besides," he added softly, "we'll need her in good shape so she can please the men who pay so well to go to The Compound!"
CHAPTER 8
THE COMPOUND
Rome lay there in the darkness, her head buried in the rough straw mattress that muffled the sound of her convulsive sobbing. She had tried again to open the door, to get out, to find some place...to find some way to get away from men like Hebran-the brutal Commandant-but it had been hopeless. And the mocking laughter of the men outside finally drove her back to the meager security of the darkness, the small bed and the scratchy warmth of its old army blankets...
She tried pitifully to calm the hysterical spasms that shook her body...tried frantically to think of some way to get word to someone at the American Embassy or to the American Air Base outside of town.
She couldn't believe that the American Government would allow the Turks to keep her caged like some wild beast, to leave her there in the Compound serving as a prostitute or whore to the townsmen and the Turkish Army until she made enough money to pay her fine...it couldn't be true...it couldn't happen...it just couldn't!
But, it all seemed so hopeless. There was no one she knew, no one she could contact! My God! Oh my God, her mind screamed in terror, I can't stand any more! I CANT STAND ANY MORE!
The small group of men in the outer room still laughed and waited in anticipation, each wondering who would follow Hebran down the narrow corridor and into the tiny cell that still echoed with the anguished screams of the young, voluptuous American girl.
Most of them hadn't even seen her yet, but after hearing what she looked like from the others who'd been in the bar the night before, they had rushed down to the Compound to be among the first to try the beautiful young girl who had been sentenced that morning.
One other man had heard of Rome Williams' imprisonment in the Compound, and as he got out of his staff car he wondered if it was wise for him to come down to a place that was normally frequented only by the enlisted men.
Captain Kemal Herezun, Commander of the 5th Turkish Mountain Calvary Brigade, was kept well informed of the happenings in the town of Trabzon. Not only because the town fell under his command but also because his was the strongest authority in this part of Turkey. Almost since its beginning, Turkey has been under military rule and local garrison commanders hold an even higher position of authority than any of the city government officers.
He had first heard of Rome Williams that morning while having breakfast, and by noon had been informed of everything that happened...he'd even found out from one of his men that he kept in the local police headquarters what had occurred at the American's home.
The last bit of information had infuriated him. He wasn't particularly concerned with the American girl, but this wasn't the first time that Herezun considered Mustafa Cekuz to have overstepped his authority. There had been several times when Herezun had almost decided to have Cekuz forcibly removed from office. Cekuz and his police had a way of stepping on the Captain's toes, and last night was just another example. The girl should never have been arrested without someone first informing the Captain, even asking his permission, and when Herezun had heard of the trial his aide had thought that the Captain would explode.
That dumb bastard, the Captain thought as he walked through the gate into the Compound. Who knows who this girl is? She may be someone important and all the blame will fall on my back if there's any trouble. Besides, he laughed to himself, I like her already if she actually knocked Cekuz on his ass in die bar!
The talk and laughter quieted suddenly when the Captain stepped into the small outer room, and the several soldiers standing there snapped to frozen attention. He waved his swagger stick at the men as if cutting his way through them, and they obediently made way for him as he called for Hebran who ran The Compound.
"Hold on, hold on! Hebran's not here!" an old woman shouted as she opened the door, "Who the hell do you think you are? You'll wait in line for that American slut just like..." She paused, trying to figure out why this man's uniform was so much fancier than the others. She'd been in the Compound for so many years, imprisoned there at first, and later as the warder, that she knew nothing of Captain Herezun-didn't even know that the Garrison existed.
"Listen, you old bitch! I'm Captain Herezun, and you'll take me in to see the girl immediately or I'll see that you're put in the cell in her place!" He looked at the old crone in disgust, and listened absently to the laughter of the men behind him as they tried to imagine the ugly, old woman trying to earn her freedom working as a prostitute... .
Confused she didn't move for a minute and then she turned sullenly and led the Captain down the dark corridor.
Rome had heard the men outside quiet down when the Captain had entered and had wondered what had caused the sudden silence, then she'd heard a deep, authoritative voice calling for Hebran. Her legs began to tremble violently as she heard the door open at the end of the corridor and somehow knew that they were coming to her cell.
Oh my God, please don't let it be for me! Please, no...no, her mind screamed in terror. NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN! I can't take it! She buried her head in the corner of the bed against the wall, sobbing convulsively. She lay all huddled up and completely still except for die quivering of her legs as if she were trying to make herself too small to be seen...and then there was the clanking of keys at her door before it opened and a weak shaft of light fell across her trembling body.
"Get up, you pig!" the old woman screamed at her and hit her violently across the shoulders with a broom she held. Rome cried out in pain just as Captain Herezun grabbed the old woman and propelled her to the door. "You old whore!" he shouted, "get out of here and don't come until I call you!" He placed a polished boot in the center of her huge rear end and assisted her out of the cell.
Rome tried to stop the great wracking sobs that shook her body, almost reaching a point where she could laugh when the Captain literally kicked the old woman out of the room. This man seemed so different from the others...somehow she felt that he wouldn't hurt her. She tried to think of something to say, but he interrupted her thoughts.
"Here, cover yourself and try to relax, I won't hurt you-I just want to ask you some questions."
She looked down, and even in the darkness, her face blushed a bright red when she realized that she lay before him without a single stitch of clothing on. Frantically, she yanked the scratchy single woolen blanket across her shoulders and tried to calm the rapid pounding of her heart.
But, even in those brief moments, Herezun had seen the raw crisscrossing of welts across her back, and more than that had felt his throat catch a little when he saw the unbelievable shapeliness of her body.
"Miss Williams, I'm Captain Kemal Herezun," he said gently. "I'm in command of the military garrison, and when I heard what had happened to you I wanted to personally find out what the circumstances were."
He saw the sudden flash of hope fill her eyes. "Wait, please. I'm not sure that I can do anything to help you, I'm not even sure that I should, for that matter."
He saw the light die in her eyes and she began to cry softly again. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer, and he went over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. He held it there gently until her shoulders stopped shaking and her eyes lifted to him, rimmed with tears.
"Captain...I...I can't, please, get me out of here...GET ME OUT OF HERE!" she shrieked, her pleading scream echoing in the small cell.
He slapped her and her hysterical cries stopped.
"Miss Williams, I'm sorry I had to do that. Now, if you'll please start from the beginning..." He waited, and soon the words poured from the frightened girl, broken and incoherent at first, then finally she spoke calmly enough for him to understand. She talked for almost ten minutes, uninterrupted by the Captain, and when her story ended her voice trailed off softly and pleadingly and she stared sightlessly into the darkened corner of the room...afraid to look at him and find disbelief or rejection.
He paced back and forth across the floor several times, not looking at her and wondering what he should do. He knew that if he exercised his authority to over-rule Cekuz that it could cause some trouble, and at the same time it was obvious that the poor girl had been railroaded into her helpless position. He smiled sardonically to himself as he realized that he felt more than pity for the American girl...he wanted her, and he'd felt the rush of desire rising in him when he'd seen her helpless and naked before him.
Still...even if he got her out of there, he doubted that he'd have a chance to taste the sweet softness of her flesh. No...if he got her out, it would only be because she was an important person, a reporter with a world-wide audience-and the most he could hope for was a little publicity and recognition in the world presses. Hah! he thought, I'd rather screw her than have her write something about me!
He'd almost decided to bow out of the whole situation, there'd be plenty of other times when he could exercise his power over Cekuz, and then he felt her arms wrap around his legs...and he looked down to find her begging on her knees.
"Oh, God, please...please, Captain...please get me out of here... I'll do anything...you've got to get me out of here!" He felt very little emotion from her pleading cries, but the sight of her golden skin shimmering in the dim light, the gentle curve of her back and the sweeping fullness of her buttocks made him ache to reach down and take her in his arms, to feel the hot thrust of her breasts pressing against him...
"Please...please, Captain," her hands clawed at his thighs, "please make them let me go!"
"Miss Williams," he said at last, "you've put me in a very disturbing position." He paused for a moment and then lifted her to her feet. He led her to the bed and waited for her to wrap herself again in the old blanket.
"You've been found guilty of a very serious crime in Turkey, and sentenced by a Turkish jury. It's true that I don't approve of Mustafa Cekuz or his methods, and it's also true that I have the authority to over-rule his actions...." He waited, letting her absorb the meaning of his words, and the full extent of his power. In the silence he felt her crying out to him, felt her mind and heart pleading for his leniency. It was something that he had always enjoyed...the strength and power he felt when he had someone completely at his mercy...
"At the same time," he continued finally, "if I should exercise my jurisdiction it could cause serious unrest among my people...and there is one other consideration." Again, he waited for several seconds.
"Miss Williams, I have been told that you are a well-known reporter for a large news service. If I should have you released, and you should take the opportunity to use what has happened here for a story that would embarrass the Turkish Government, then it would have very serious consequences for me, or at least, rather unpleasant ones."
She reached frantically for him, her hands clawing at his uniform.
"Wait...Miss Williams...let me continue," and he gently unwrapped her fingers from the front of his tunic. "I want you to understand my position. If I should leave you here it's very unlikely that you would ever be heard of again. You'd be just another guilty woman in our Compound." He waited for her crying to subside, and then added:
"In case you find that hard to believe, I should tell you that the American that you were found with has been told that you have been sent back to Istanbul and he was also threatened with imprisonment if he should ever mention the matter." He continued softly. "So, you see, it's doubtful that any of your people would ever learn of your whereabouts."
"Oh my God, Captain...please, you can't let that happen to me...I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything wrong! You've got to get me out of here!"
"Now, Miss Williams, let's assume that you were to write some flattering story of how I rescued you and it were to be placed in wire services all over the world...would that be of any benefit to me?"
"Oh, yes, Captain...I'll do that! Everyone will know how you helped me! Reuters can give you fantastic coverage...you...you'll be famous." The words poured from her-she'd say anything...anything to get out of there!
"Again, Miss Williams, you don't understand! In order to write such a story you would have to tell of everything that has occurred, and I'm afraid that might be embarrassing to my Government and my superiors...and consequently for me. So, you see, there is nothing that you can offer me." He paused, smiling in the dark gloominess of the small cell.
There was absolute silence for several seconds as Rome tried frantically to think of some way to persuade the man who was her only hope.
"Captain...I... I... " her voice faded as she realized there was nothing she could say, and she began to cry softly.
"Wait, Miss Williams, I have not had a chance to think if there is any way that you can repay me, or make my releasing you worthwhile to me...perhaps there is none." He leaned down, and tenderly put his hand on her shoulder, lifting her to her feet and then added softly:
"But, that is no matter, because I have decided to have you released anyway."
She couldn't speak for a moment, it couldn't be true! Then, she fell weakly into his arms, sobbing hysterically.
"Stop crying," he told her sternly, "because you must make a promise to me."
"Oh, yes, anything...oh my God, I'll promise you anything...anything."
He lifted her head, trying not to look at the rising and falling of her heaving breasts, and trying not to feel the swelling fullness of her thighs as they trembled against him.
"You must promise me that you will write nothing, that not a word of what has happened will ever be printed-IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"
She almost fainted in relief. The realization that his demand was probably the only thing in the world that she could actually have offered him made her stifle the desire to laugh. It was too unbelievable that he would make her promise not to do something that she was completely unable to have done anyway!
"Captain," she said as solemnly as she could, "You have my eternal vow that I will write absolutely nothing of what has happened."
"All right, Miss Williams, I'll accept that... " he couldn't resist the urge to run his hands just once lightly down the curve of her side, feel her shiver beneath his touch. Then, he moved his hands away, knowing that somehow he would find a way to make her come to him willingly...then, world-famous reporter or not, she would do nothing that would harm his career. And besides, it would be a delight it itself to see Cekuz' face when he found out that he, Captain Kemal Herezun, had shown him who was die most powerful man in Trabzon!
"Get dressed, Miss Williams, while I make the necessary arrangements." He released her and banged on the cell door. "Old woman! Open this door immediately, or I'll have you hanged!"
Moments later, Rome had dressed in the clothes the woman had returned at the Captain's command. It had been so strange, she thought fleetingly, for almost an hour she had stood before him completely nude and then as she had dressed she had blushed furiously and had turned away as she pulled on her torn clothing.
She had watched in sadistic delight when the captain had yanked the old woman into the cell by the front of her robe.
"Listen, you old bitch," he'd threatened her menacingly, "By now you know who I am...and you know what I can have done to you if you disobey me!" He'd shaken her violently, and added: "You are to forget this lady was ever here, is that understood!...and furthermore, you are to tell everyone, including Hebran, that the man who speaks of this will be immediately shot. And, then he'd pulled her up until she trembled beneath his chin.
"And, if you should see Mustafa Cekuz before I do, you are to tell him that I, Captain Herezun, will have him dragged behind a horse from Trabzon to Diyarbakir if he is seen in Trabzon beyond today's sunset! Repeat my orders, you old hag."
The woman had trembled violently as she repeated his words shakenly and, thrusting the cell key into his hand, she had run from the room.
"Come, Miss Williams," he said gently, "I'll take you out of here."
She had followed nim silently down the dim corridor, and had taken his arm when he led her through the outer room where the other men waited. She had turned her head away, trying not to look at them, but there had been no need for that because each of them had also turned away to avoid the angry stare of Captain Herezun.
He led her through the horrible stench of sweat and thousands of heavy Turkish cigarettes, through the throbbing noises of other cells just like hers, and into the cool freshness of the Turkish night. He paused for a moment, letting her breathe in the new air until she no longer needed to lean against him for support, and then he went back in-telling her to wait for him.
"There," he said when he turned, "I think those fools inside will spread the word that none of this ever happened."
"Captain Herezun...I...don't know what to say to you," her voice faltered, and she tried to think of some way to thank him for what he had done. The horrible place, the rot and smell, behind her as she stood in the openness of the courtyard, but there were no words to express the way she felt. Her mind seemed to have blanked out all thought, all the horrible memories and the tortuous realization of what might have been her fate for the rest of her life, and she stood there weak, happy, and conscious only of the relief she felt.
"Captain...if only there was some way to..." She felt him wiping the tears tenderly away from her eyes.
"Miss Williams, it's all right now...you're free.
Come with me and I'll take you to the American authorities at the base."
He took her over to a brown Turkish army jeep with large red stars on the doors and nodded to the driver who'd jumped out and briskly saluted.
"Help Miss Williams into the car, Gerlik, and then go home. I won't be needing you any more this evening, I'll drive."
Moments later, they were driving wordlessly through the darkened streets of Trabzon, and Rome stared unseeing through the open window of the car. Her mind tumbled in a turmoil of confused thoughts...what had happened...she was free...but mostly thoughts of the Captain.
She wondered why he'd done what he had, and she wondered what kind of man he was. His voice was so much different than his face, except when he gave a command...he spoke so softly and gently to her, and there was so much kindness in his tone... .
But, in the brief moment that she'd seen his face in the light of the car before he'd closed the door-the first time that she'd actually been able to see him fully because of the darkness of her cell-his face had been so cruel...so hard and cold, and slashed down one side by what looked like a saber cut. She trembled involuntarily as she glanced across at him again when they passed a street lantern. He was a very tall man, slim but powerful looking, and his face seemed to have been carved from granite in broad, sharp flat planes.
It seemed so unfair, she thought, that a man so kind and gentle should be cursed with such a cruel...not ugly, because he was almost handsome...but such a mean face that women must always have wanted to turn away from him.
CHAPTER 9
THE GARRISON
She watched him as he drove the car quickly and skillfully through the dark narrow streets and saw from his face that he was deep in thought. As they reached the edge of town he slowed the car and felt between the seats until he found a bottle.
"Miss Wilhams, this cognac may do you some good. I'm sorry that I have no glasses." He steered the car with the pressure of his knee against the steering wheel and opened the bottle before he handed it to her.
She took the bottle gratefully, she would have drunk anything that would help calm the queasiness in her stomach.
"Captain...please, call me Rome. You've done so terribly much for me." Again, she saw the cruel hardness of his face and felt sorry for him, she wanted to reach out and wipe away the coldness and the car...to take his face in her hands and tell him that his kindness more than made up for the way that he looked. Instead, she could only drink the hot, burning brandy and sit quietly without any of the right words to say to the man who'd done so much for her.
"Miss...uh, Rome...well be there soon, and I want to tell you again how important it is to me that you write nothing of what has happened." His voice was soft, but there was an urgency in what he said and it was then that she knew that she could tell him the truth...that the knowledge that he had nothing to fear would in some way repay him for all that he'd done.
"Captain...I have to tell you something. Perhaps it will make you feel better." She paused as they came toward an intersection where the road divided at the foot of a mountain. He pulled the car over to the side and stopped, turning to face her.
She hadn't meant for him to stop, for the car to be so quiet, and her words seemed clumsy and halting, echoing in her ears as she told him how she'd dreamed up the name Rome, and how the whole story of her being a famous reporter was only a fantasy. She told him how she'd deserted the tour group in Athens, and how she'd left a false trail in France...
"So you see, Captain, you don't have to worry about a story in the news...it was all a foolish little girl's lie." She waited for a moment, while he remained silent, and then she continued...
"Don't you understand, Captain? There is no
Rome Williams, no famous reporter, no one to write the story...so there's nothing for you to worry about." She reached over and took his hand.
"If only I could explain how much you've done for me...if you had left me there...back there in the Compound...there would have been no one to look for me." She paused. Why doesn't he say something, she thought, doesn't he believe me?
"Captain, I swear it's true. I'm Laura Williams. And no one even knows I'm in Turkey! I came in on a false passport, under a different name, and when my father finds out that I'm missing he'll have people searching everywhere in France, but nobody would have ever found me in Turkey." God, I could have been here forever, she thought as she realized the actual truth of her confession.
"Captain Herezun, now you see why I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done," she concluded softly and took his hand.
For several seconds, there was dead silence in the car and then it was broken suddenly by a harsh laugh, and the roar of the car's engine as he started it.
She was startled by his abrupt laugh and then it softened into a deep, throaty chuckle.
"I...I don't understand, Captain," she asked wonderingly as he pulled out and headed the car left up the steepest side of the mountain... "what have I said that was funny...don't you believe me?"
"Yes, my little bird...I do believe you," he laughed again and she felt a strange chill run up her back. "Yes, I think I do believe you, and more than that, I want to thank you!"
She couldn't understand and there was something about his tone of voice, and the way he was acting that frightened her.
He drove faster now, almost recklessly, and she had to hang tightly onto the metal bar on the dash as the small car careened dangerously around the steep curves of the mountain road.
Something's wrong, she thought frantically, what's happened? She wanted to cry out in fear as the car slid around the corners. Have I done something? Maybe...I...I shouldn't have told him...somehow I've made him angry...oh my God, if he doesn't slow down he'll kill us both before we get to the American base!
She sat there terrified, wishing that time could be moved ahead and that she could already be in the safety of her own people at the base.
Where is it? How much longer do we have to go!
She cried out as the wheels slid around the right-angle corners, sending showers of rocks clattering down the steep mountainside...
"Please...please, Captain Herezun...go a little slower. Please, I'm frightened..."
"Don't be scared, Miss Williams...we've almost reached our destination...see, there it is, just around this corner." And he chuckled again, that strange, horrible sound.
There it was.
She could just barely make out the outline of a sentry and a guardhouse several hundred yards ahead of them. She leaned back in relief in her seat, noticing curiously that it was a Turkish guard that saluted them as they roared past.
That's strange. I wonder if the whole base is guarded by the Turks, and then she remembered that Scott had told her that he was stationed there as a NATO soldier instead of as an American. That explained the Turkish guards...she felt better and turned her thoughts away from the strange change that had come over the man beside her and thought about the safety that was so near, and Scott...soon she'd see him again...
The car's headlights flashed across a huge stone arch ahead of them and she leaned anxiously forward in her seat.
We're here! She almost began to cry from joy as they passed through the heavy iron gates and the candy-striped guardhouses.
"Well, Miss Williams," Herezun said, and slowed the car before an ornately engraved brass plaque set in a large boulder. He pointed. "How do you like your new home?"
She turned, with the sound of his laughter still in her ears.
FIFTH TURKISH CAVALRY BRIGADE KEMAL ATATURK MOUNTAIN GARRISON
The words leapt out at her, and she stared un-comprehendingly at the carved letters and the Turkish script beneath them.
"Captain...I...I don't understand...where are we? This isn't the American Air Force Base, is it?...It's Turkish...It's your base!" She screamed the last words at him. It was clear enough that he had brought her to his garrison, but she couldn't understand why. She wanted to ask him what it meant, but in the confusion of her thoughts she couldn't find any words...
"Yes, Miss Wilhams, it is my garrison-and it's also your new home!" Then he added thoughtfully: "For a while at least."
"Home?...but...what do you mean...I thought you were taking me to the American...you can't, please, you promised me that you'd take me to the base where I'd be safe!" It didn't seem that it could be real, why would he do this? What did he want! She tried to stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks...tried to comprehend what had happened. But, the captain said nothing as he put the car in gear and they pulled away from the sign that had just destroyed her happiness. Then he turned to her...
"Miss Wilhams, you see I had planned to take you to your foolish American friends." There was a deep sense of satisfaction in his voice as he spoke. "But then you were kind enough to change my plans," He paused for a moment, smiling. "When you told me that you were not a reporter, that no one even knew that you were in Turkey, I felt sorry for you. It occurred to me that you had no friends here, no one to take care of you, and it seems that it is my duty as an officer to see that you are well taken care of," he laughed as he spoke and there was a strange glitter in his eyes that frightened her even more than his words.
"Oh, my God NO!... please...you can't do this...why? I haven't done anything to you, why are you doing this to me? Please...it's a joke...you don't mean this, please, you don't. Please let me go...I trusted you." But, even as she cried out to him, she knew from the expression on his face that her begging meant little to him.
"Miss Wilhams, I assure you this is no joke. In the Compound, you told me you would do anything for me if I had you released. Your tender confession in the car has given me the opportunity to find a way for you to repay me."
His laugh was suddenly silenced as she came at him like a wild tigress, her clawed fingernails slashing at his face. They tore into his skin, and in the seconds that it took to control the wildly slewing car, he knew that his face was covered with deep red welts. He backhanded her as hard as he could, slapping her to the far side of the car and almost knocking her unconscious. She lay there whimpering and moaning while he wiped the blood from his cheeks.
"You'll pay for that, you stupid bitch!" he shouted at her, then his voice changed to an even more menacing softness, "I'll find several ways for you to pay for that, perhaps even with your life if you don't do exactly as I tell you."
As he drove slowly, he reached across and pulled her up to a sitting position. "Now, you listen to me. I can snuff out your life with a snap of my fingers and, as even you yourself have told me, no one will ever miss you." He talked heedlessly through the soft sounds of her crying. "You, Miss Williams, are both my prisoner and my guest. Do as I say, and you'll be my guest..." he paused, "disobey me, and you will be my prisoner! I don't like the inconvenience of prisoners and I get rid of them very quickly...sometimes, very unpleasantly for them."
There was total lack of emotion in his tone as he spoke, and Rome knew that there was nothing she could say that would sway him, knew there was no mistaking the genuineness of his threats.
They drove through another gate and into a huge walled courtyard. He stopped the car in front of an imposing stone building, almost a fortress, and turned to her-smiling at her silence.
"I'm glad you realize your position. Now, follow me, and say nothing to anyone."
He helped her out of the car and led her up the wide marble flight of stairs, past the impassive faces of more than twenty soldiers, and into a great, heavily carpeted drawing room. He ignored the salutes and rigid stances of the men that he passed in the wide hallways, saying nothing until they were inside alone in the drawing room and he'd closed the door.
"It is rather like a castle, isn't it, my dear, and I assure you that it's even more impregnable. You've seen the walls, my guards, and any attempt at escape would be more than just foolish-it would be suicidal."
He motioned for her to sit at a large curved couch by the fireplace and walked over to an ornate crystal-glass at the side of the room. As he poured the cognac he whistled softly and happily to himself.
She watched silently, her eyes brimmed with tears, as he checked some papers on his desk and then came over to hand her a snifter of brandy. There was nothing she could say, no way to escape, and she listened almost blindly as he sat himself across from her and began to talk in a normal conversational tone as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sipping his cognac, he told her about the garrison and the men under his command.
"The garrison has been here for almost eight-hundred years, and is now the last outpost between Turkey and the Russian border...surrounded by mountains that are completely impassable by anything other than our horses and on foot, and so deeply buried amongst these granite cliffs that even Russian or American missiles would be ineffective." There was no mistaking the pride in his voice as he talked to her about various thicknesses of walls and battlements, about the wars that had been fought by previous defenders, and the quality of the men who served beneath him...
. . the men that serve here, all volunteers, are the finest in Turkey. Men from the deserts near Diyarbakir, Kurds and descendants from the great Turkish and Mongolian, Tartar hordes. They are the most highly trained and ruthless mountain cavalry in the world." He toasted her with his glass, and added confidentially: "Perhaps not as civilized as you and I, perhaps even barbaric...but, nonetheless, they are the finest fighting men in the world."
He rose to refill his glass, and then continued as he slowly paced around the room.
"We Turks are a very proud race, proud of our heritage and, most of all, proud of our land. Un-like you fat, greedy Americans who thirst for money and soft conveniences, who go into other peoples' countries to occupy them as if they belonged to you." His voice rose in anger as he spoke of American occupation-he frightened her with his vehemence and she began to wonder if by being American she'd caused her predicament.
"But...I thought that we were here to help you...a part of the NATO forces, sent by the United Nations?"
"NATO...hah!" he interrupted her angrily, "you Americans are here just so you can use our country for your missile bases-against the Russians!" He laughed. "You're lucky that we hate the Russians even more than we hate you...your missiles may someday get the land back to us that the Russians have stolen!" He moved abruptly to the fireplace and lit a cigar, and then turned back to her.
"The Russians! I'll tell you how my men treat the Russians...Thirty miles from here through the mountains at the Russian border station at Batumi. The Russians make a lot of noise with their gunboats and destroyers on the Black Sea, but they're awfully quiet the mornings after my men visit them..."
He smiled at the quizzical look on her face. "Yes, my dear, we frequently visit them...at night, through the mountains where they're afraid to follow."
He walked over to the bar and from a leather scabbard withdrew a curved, ornately inscribed sword. He balanced it on the back of his hand and as it moved the light hit it, casting reflections from its sharpness and jewel-encrusted grip.
"This is a Turkish scimitar, a weapon the Russians fear even more than your highly publicized surface-to-surface missiles. And, do you know why?"
He came over to her, carrying the wicked, curved weapon lightly in both hands, extending it before her face until it was close enough for her to see the dark brown stains on the grooved blade.
"They fear it in the guards' barracks at the border station because they never know when they'll awake in the morning and find one buried in the heart of one of their comrades." He turned to face the window, speaking softly, almost as if he were thinking aloud. "My men are experts with this weapon and if drawn, it can never be replaced in its scabbard until it has tasted the blood of an enemy."
He turned again to her, holding out the stained edge of the blade. This one, too. Now it must be used before I replace it."
She shrank away from him-terrified, and knowing that he meant to kill her-she closed her eyes as he swung the scimitar only inches from her throat.
"Don't worry, Miss Williams," he said chuckling, "I don't think I will be using it on you." Then he added: "that is, unless you force me to."
"No...please, I won't do anything...please, I swear itl" She couldn't take her eyes from the swaying blade, held motionless with the fascination of a small animal before the hypnotic swaying of a cobra's head.
"That is not quite true; Rome, my dear, you'll probably do many things-but only what I tell you to do."
She sat motionless, afraid to say anything to anger him, and afraid to move lest he change his mind.
"Let me continue with my story. My men, a chosen few, make the journey at night through the mountains to the Russian border guard station and we kill one of the guards...not a sentry outside, not just anyone in the barracks...but the man at the far end, in the last bed!"
He paused, and seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I've often wished I could be there when they awake and find him, find him and know that if we could kill that last man undetected-then we obviously could have killed anyone we chose. That, my dear, is Turkish psychological warfare! Considerably more effective than propaganda, wouldn't you think?'
She watched him pour himself another brandy, the chills of terror and revulsion racing up her back-if he could speak so proudly of killing men while they slept, if he took so much obvious pleasure in ruthless human sacrifice...what possible final end could he have in mind for her!
He's a beast, she thought. A predatory animal delighting in the pain and torture of others. In his imagine uniform and his cultured voice he looks and talks like a man...but he's only a vicious animal!
"And, those pigs...those cowardly Russian Pigs!" He turned back to her, rolling the glass of brandy in his palms. "Do they say anything? Do they protest, or try to get revenge? No! No, they just wait, trembling and quaking for us to make another raid." He laughed menacingly. "I've often wondered how a man is chosen for the last bed in each of the barracks..." he paused meditatively, "that's strange-do you suppose that we might be the administrators of their punishment? Their executioners? Perhaps, they place men who have been tried and condemned in those bunks...Hmmmmm."
He drank thirstily from his brandy snifter, lost in thought.
"Well, no matter," he said aloud, "I have other things to concern myself with."
He poured another brandy, and as he replaced the decanter he ran his fingers lightly across the shining scimita that lay on the bar-almost caressing it like the softness of a woman's body.
Rome quivered in fear and disgust as she watched him stroking the blade and swilhng heavily from his cognac glass. He's a maniac, a vicious blood-thirsty maniac, she thought, and soon hell come for me-drunk and brutal. She had seen the way he'd been staring at her, the light in his eyes as they roved across her body, and she remembered the strange expression on his face each time that he said he would have something for her to do. She knew that he wanted her physically, that he'd take her brutally and force her to concede to his demands-and she knew in the furthermost depths of her mind that there would be nothing she could do to stop him...
He picked up the brandy decanter and carried it to his desk, refilling his glass again as he spoke softly into the phone. She heard him send for someone and then say that he didn't want to be disturbed by anyone else for the rest of the night
If only he'll get too drunk to do anything, she thought frantically, he's drinking so much! And then she realized that if he didn't get drunk enough perhaps the only way that she would be able to bear him would be if she were the one to get drunk...senselessly and unfeelingly drunk...
She gulped at her drink, taking it all in one long swallow and feeling its raw burning searing her throat.
"Captain...could I...I have some more brandy?"
"More brandy," he said thickly, "of course you can have more brandy...perhaps that will loosen your passions a little more, my dear Rome." He came over and clumsily refilled her glass, spilling a little on her hand. Then he sat down next to her, leaning over to raise his glass in toast to hers. As their glasses clinked he dropped one hand heavily onto her thigh and began to stroke it slowly up and down her leg.
"Perhaps...the brandy will make you friendlier," he leered at her, "you haven't been very nice, you know...and, especially after everything I've done for you."
Rome drank her brandy as quickly as she could, trying to fight back the nausea she felt from the unpalatable whiskey and the lewd hotness of his breath, and his hand.
"Here, have a little more," and he refilled her glass before she'd even emptied it. He seemed content for the moment just to stroke her leg, and neither of them said anything as she tried to force the liquor down her throat as quickly as she could. Her throat constricted and she almost gagged, but she knew that the brandy was working because she could already feel the numbness spreading through her legs and just barely across her lips.
Then, so suddenly that, in addition to the pain, he frightened her as he jerked his hand from her thigh and brutally grabbed her left breast. She tried to squirm away from him and as she did she knocked his glass out of his hand and spilled hers onto his lap.
"Hey...you stupid bitch...watch what you're doing!" It seemed that he was going to strike her when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Now, what the hell!" he muttered angrily and rose, trying to brush the spreading brandy stains from his trousers. "Oh, the orderly," and he walked unsteadily over to the door.
He let him in, and the man hurried past him carrying a tray. The orderly moved mechanically like a robot as he spread out the tablecloth on the coffee table and began to lay out the food-if he even saw Rome, she couldn't tell because his eyes seemed to look right through her.
"No, not the food, you idiot," the captain muttered, "I'll do that. You just build a fire in the fireplace, and do it quickly!"
Rome listened as the captain repeated his order in Turkish. The orderly probably didn't even speak English, she thought, and realized that the captain had obviously forgotten, either because he'd been speaking only English with her, or because he was very drunk. And, she could tell that he had gotten drunker from the slurred sound of his words and the stiff, almost wooden way that he moved. like most drunks he had begun to be exaggeratingly careful with each motion, and, consequently, moved almost like a marionette on a string.
She watched as he screamed at his subordinate who was trying hurriedly to build a fire, and she wished frantically that there was some way that she could make the man understand that she was a prisoner, some way to get him to go for help-but then she realized that there was probably not a single person in the whole garrison who would ever do anything against the captain's orders. She'd seen the way that they jumped each time that he came near and knew that their discipline and obedience must have been drilled into them until they were no more than extensions of the Captain's arms and mind.
She hoped that there was some way that she could delay the orderly, if for no more reason than to give herself just a few more moments before she was once again alone with the Captain and had to suffer his aggressions. But, it was no use. The orderly set a match to the fire and as the blaze rose, he stood and saluted and backed hurriedly from the room.
The Captain lifted the napkin that covered the food on the tray and threw it on the floor-then he pulled a piece of what looked like shish kabob from a skewer and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Well, my dear," he said, his mouth full and the words muffled, "it seems that we are alone again... "
CHAPTER 10
GARRISON
Rome held the half full glass of brandy just below her full red lips. The Captain had already finished his meal and was pouring himself another snifter of the clear amber alcohol as she stared at him. Instead of joining him in the meal, she had drunk three full brandies, pretending all the while to be listening to his drunken conversation. Each glass had buffered her mind more strongly against the Turk's drunken words until she heard nothing but her own frightened thoughts. She knew for certain that no other Turk would dare help her to escape and realized that her only road to freedom lay with the Captain.
She touched the crystal to her mouth and poured the remaining half of the brandy down her throat, barely sensing the burning liquid as it tumbled to her whirling stomach. If I drink enough, she thought, I'll be able to stand him and be nice to him. Then, if I play my cards right, I can persuade him to let me go. There was no other hope for her. No one else knew where she was, and therefore, her entire life depended completely on the Turkish officer who sat across from her.
"Some more brandy?" he asked, breaking through the window of her thoughts.
Rome nodded and smiled at his drunken courtesy. She knew that sex would be her only weapon, and the thought of his dark body next to hers made her mind shudder in revulsion. Officer and gentleman or not, she thought, he's still as much of a pig as Mustafa or Hebran. But at the same time she knew that if she were able to convince him that she was pleased with him, he wouldn't harm her, not the way the others had. It was a small enough price to pay for her freedom and she was willing to make any sacrifice to get out of Turkey and to her real identity.
Herezun watched her drunkenly and eagerly as he handed the girl another full brandy. This sensuous young American had no choice but to accept his offer. He knew that he would make love to her like none of her countrymen ever had, and afterwards she would be eternally grateful to him. She was so vibrant and alive, he thought as he studied her. Each rounded curve of her full body excited his drunken imagination. After all, she could have a worse life than with him. Suppose, he thought as he mentally undressed her, that I had left her to Mustafa. Her life would have ended in the Compound, a shattered and broken remnant of the exciting creature that she is now. Yes, I'm her hero, the bravest man in her life.
"Come," he said, rising from his chair. "Let's enjoy ourselves."
Rome got up unsteadily and followed him to the large couch in the center of the darkened room. The bastard probably thinks I should be grateful, she thought as she grabbed at a table for support. Well, he can have whatever he wants as long as he lets me go...anything but gratitude by God, soon he'll owe me my freedom.
With the assurance of a military commander he reached for the silver button at the top of her dress, but missed and nearly fell to the sofa. He knew that he could fuck her, but the countless brandies that he had drunk were taking their toll on his senses.
"Oh, Captain," she exclaimed, forcing herself to giggle at the man who swayed in front of her. "I can do it. Why don't you take off your uniform while I remove my dress."
Herezun was elated at her words and quickly began to undress. It was true! She did like him, and the brandy had loosened her enough until her fear had been completely erased. His drunken eyes smiled obscenely at her as he removed his trousers quickly, freeing his fast rising penis from its restriction. It grew rapidly until it jutted straight out from his bronzed body, throbbing with the pulsing blood that raced through the dark purple veins. Proudly, he watched her undress, while his right hand lightly stroked the underside of his massive prick. There's no other cock like it in Turkey, he thought, and no other woman like her.
Rome avoided the excited Captain's stare as she slowly removed her dress. Her head was numb from the brandy and she could hardly keep her eyelids from closing. She could feel his eyes devouring her supple flesh and tried to force a smile as she slipped her dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He was standing three feet away and yet she could feel his heavy liquored breath laying its blanket on her breasts. The longer I wait, she thought, the more excited he'll get. I'd better hurry, her drug-hazed mind ordered and she un-snapped her bra, letting her full rounded breasts fall free into the lust-incited stare of the Turkish officer.
Herezun involuntarily flexed the tremendous muscles in his chest as her firm full breasts jiggled slightly. He had never seen a more exciting woman and knew that he had to have her now. As she bent, pushing her silken panties over her long thighs and past her knees, he stepped forward and grasped her neck with his strong left hand.
Rome shuddered and stood up as the touch of his calloused hand brought her back to stark reality. She stared into his sex-crazed eyes, her senses fighting for retreat as she remembered the last Turks who had touched her with calloused hands. It had been so awful, so terrifying...first Mustafa and his comrades flashed into her frightened memory and she recalled the horrible rape...the darkness...the pain...and then there had been Hebran. Rome wanted to turn and run, but it was too late. She had committed herself to the plan for escape, and no matter how degrading it would be, she would use her body to get what she needed.
"Frightened?" he asked, trying to remain dignified and not slur his speech.
"Y-Yes, I guess I am," she stammered, still trembling at his touch.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," he consoled. "If you can relax, we'll both enjoy each other and you'll see that I'm not as cruel as I look."
Rome forced a smile and looked into his eyes, trying to see if he was really sincere. Through her own drunken haze she knew that he, too, was practically consumed by alcohol and would probably pass out soon. If she could make him promise to release her while he was drunk, then she could be flying home in the morning.
"I'll try, Kemal," she said, using his first name for the first time.
Herezun's scar wrinkled as he broke into a drunken smile. She really did want to be his woman, he thought as he slowly lowered his head and closed his open mouth over hers. He pulled her closer, and as his pulsing cock nestled against the warm flesh of her belly, he slipped his strong wet tongue into her mouth. The muscles in her neck tensed as the intruding tongue fenced with her own, forcing her to respond automatically. She could smell the brandy and hot spiced food that he had eaten, but her mind told her not to fight, not to resist, and she yielded to his kiss.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned, hoping to make him think that his tongue was building a burning desire deep in her belly. Mustafa and the other Turks who had raped her flashed into her mind, but she fought valiantly for control. She could feel the Captain's arm grasping her tightly and pushing her toward the sofa behind her and she fell easily back onto the large soft cushions, his body crushing down on top of her as she sank into the Turkish softness. She could almost enjoy it, she thought as she felt the hard clenching muscles of his chest crushing against her soft round breasts. But I won't! I won't give him the satisfaction! her mind screamed. He can screw me all night and I won't enjoy it...not really...he may think I do...but I won't! I refuse!
Suddenly the pressure of the tongue in her mouth eased and the Captain raised his head.
"If you're going to be a Turk's woman," he said drunkenly. "Then you'll have to learn to fuck the way the Turk's do."
Oh, God, she thought as his hands lifted her body and turned her on her stomach. She was suddenly terrified at the thought...the thought of him defiling her behind. Rome hadn't counted on being a pervert...
She lay still on the sofa, her teeth biting into her thumb as she waited for him to mount her and drive his throbbing cock into her anus. Her imagination raced with macabre fantasies of pain as she anticipated what he would do to her. But...she would let him do it...she would let him do anything, just as long as she could be free. Half of her mind fought through the brandied haze, wanting to jump off the couch and run, but the other half remained strong. He held all the cards and she must play his rules.
Go on you Turkish pervert! Fuck me in the ass if that's what it takes. Do any goddamned thing you want, but let me go!
"You're trembling," his deep voice suddenly broke through her terrified silence. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked, his voice almost becoming like a boy's.
Slowly she turned her head only to see his massive throbbing cock staring at her from less than a foot away. She could see it twitch with lust-excited madness, dripping white, burning sperm from the rubbery red tip. My God, it's big! she thought bigger than I have ever seen. He couldn't ram that into her tiny anus, he just couldn't.
Herezun looked down at her and said tenderly: "Don't worry. I won't hurt you."
Somehow she knew that she could believe him and for a moment even felt sorry for him. She looked from his scarred face down along his well muscled body to the jerking cock that jutted out from his dark hair-covered groin. He did look pathetic, kneeling there drunk and half crazed with lust. But still, she thought, he's a selfish, vicious man and I've got to make him help me, no matter what.
His hand reached out and firmly pushed her head back to the soft cushion of the sofa. She took a deep breath and waited for him to move, feeling the hand leave her neck and trace a calloused path over her soft white shoulders. It felt nice, but she would fight. Her mind would fight every salacious touch, every obscene kiss that he tried to give her. She wanted to escape and would suffer the indignity of being fucked by this Turk so that she could leave. No matter what her body would feel, no matter how it would react; she would control herself. She had to!
As he traced his rough fingers across the smooth, perfect skin of her sleek sensuous back, Herezun's eyes widened at the sight of her soft white buttock quivering fearfully in the cool air. His aching cock jerked upwards as he felt a surge of sperm fighting for release from his swollen balls. He could hardly wait to spread her long firm thighs and sink his giant prick between the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt.
But he would wait. She was the most exciting woman he had ever seen, and he was convinced that she wanted him to fuck her with his massive cock. He ran his fingers over the trembling white orbs of her buttocks, teasing the flesh expertly. She would be his woman! Him, Kemal Herezun, Turkish Captain! He would fuck her like he had fucked no other woman, and then she would have to love him. He would be the envy of every Turkish Officer with his voluptuous American woman, and when they were alone, like tonight, he would fuck her like a Turk ought to fuck a woman!
A proud officer and a proud lover, he slowly ran his fingers along the crevice between the quivering white orbs of her buttocks. As he touched the soft silken fur that covered her trembling pussy, he turned his hands and made her spread her supple thighs. She moaned softly, hoping to make him think that she liked his fingers probing at the already wet entrance to her tightly clenched vagina Her body wanted her to give up the fight and enjoy the lascivious finger that was teasing her tender pink flesh, but she had to resist. Her freedom depended on it.
When he heard her moan, he turned his body and clasped her trembling buttocks with each hand, lifting her hips up until she was on her knees. The raging fire that burned through the rubbery head of his cock screamed at his lust-incited senses for release, but he held back, wanting her.
As he held the trembling white buttocks, he bent his head toward the hair-lined lips between her upraised thighs and flicked out his tongue at the moistening pink flesh. Her mind suddenly snapped like a thunderclap at the exciting flick of his tongue. It's not fair, she screamed silently. It's not fair!
Somehow she had to fight the obscene tongue that was making her whole body shudder with a sudden unwanted desire.
She moaned softly and clenched the muscles in her long white thighs. Hearing the signal of her moan, he bent his head further, pushing his snaking tongue deeper into the quivering wet orifice and spread the resisting pink flesh wider and wider with each salacious probe. His massive throbbing cock jerked involuntarily as he felt the soft silken pubic hairs brushing it tantalizingly against the rough skin of his face. The honeyed odor of her warm damp vagina seemed to fill his whole head and he moved slightly until his tongue again found the soft quivering entrance. Slowly he pushed the hard wet tongue between the smooth pink lips and into the moist, waiting pussy, rotating it like a simulated prick lapping at the burning walls.
As the torturing tongue wormed its way around the trembling walls of her hair-lined cunt, her mind fought the obscene torment, trying to with all her strength to destroy the building wall of flaming desire that was sweeping through her sweating body. She turned her head in anguish and buried her face into the soft cushion in a vain effort to blot out the strange tingling that quivered in her trembling thighs and back between her trembling buttocks.
Her voice wanted to scream out with desire, but she fought to retain it thinking to herself, Pig! Pig! Pig!
But as her mind concentrated on her hatred for the Turk, her body suddenly succumbed to the tortuous tongue and every muscle seemed to give in, while her whole skin started pouring sweat the sudden release of tension.
Her mind screamed Pig! but it couldn't hold her tormented senses any longer. Somehow the lapping tongue had taken over control and made her shake with desire as it searched hungrily for more and more of the hot flowing liquids secreting openly from her wet, trembling cunt. Each lascivious touch made her soft white belly jerk and sent a shock to her tortured brain as it fought against the Turk's horrible depraved perversion.
"Aaaahhh," she moaned, ashamed that she had vocalized the sensuous desire that coursed through her kneeling body. She felt him suddenly remove his teasing tongue away from her wet burning cunt and wanted to scream at him not to stop and slowly her white quivering buttocks swayed rhythmically back at his face wanting the tongue to return. She wanted to scream Pig at the sex-maddened Turk, but her own lust-ridden body refused to let her, relaxing even more while it waited for the rock-hard flesh that would soon drive its fiery mass deep into her jerking belly. She felt as if she were floating on top of a cool salt sea, rolling and swaying with the sensuous waves of desire that flowed through her helplessly kneeling body.
Herezun had risen behind her and grasped his throbbing red cock in both hands, directing it toward the wet clenching opening of her fully exposed cunt. He could see or feel nothing in the room but the soft pink flesh that quivered between her buttocks widespread in front of him. like an engineer the sex-crazed captain pushed his tight muscled hips forward until the smooth pulsating head of his throbbing cock touched the burning opening of her lewdly exposed cunt.
"Oooohh," she sighed as the fiery tip probed the clenching entrance, her mind fighting, but her rampant desire in complete control. Herezun took her moan for one of complete submission and pushed forward again until suddenly the whole into her flooding pussy. He felt the hot juices of her vagina lubricating his probing cock and pushed forward again until suddenly the whole throbbing head slipped into her tight aching channel with a quick, wet sucking sound.
"Aaahhh," he moaned from deep in his belly. "God, you're tight, baby."
His sex-maddened mind screamed at him. Nothing, no one had ever felt like this; her hot clenching cunt enveloping the entire pulsing head like a hot wet glove sucking hard at the rigid shaft.
She's mine, he thought as he looked down over her slowly swaying back.
Herezun clenched the lean muscles of his buttocks and pushed forward, sinking the shaft further into her burning hair-lined pussy. He was a Turk and she, an American but she knew the power of a Turk, his sex-maddened mind told him. He knew that now she would always be his slave, a slave to do his every bidding.
"Aaaahhh," she wailed into the cushion as she felt the massive cock rubbing along the smooth jerking walls of her aching cunt. Slowly she swayed back and forth as the gentle sinking cock drove deeper into her wet, clasping, pussy. She could feel the massive shaft filling her with its blood filled hardness until the hard, throbbing head bumped hard against her cervix. She hated him for making her want him to skewer her with the driving prick until she came, but her body had won and she knew it. Nothing could stop him or her from fucking to climax, but she still hated him and would hate him forever.
The Captain groaned with desire as he pulled his throbbing cock halfway out of her burning pussy, then pushed forward again. He could feel her sway beneath him and slowly try to roll her hips rubbing every inch of his sinking prick. Eagerly he started to drive the rigid shaft faster, sliding back and forth along the smooth, wet sucking walls. He could feel her move her white round buttocks in an effort to meet the rhythm he was setting and he heard her moan again as he picked up the motion. His pitch of excitement was rising to his throat and he knew that there wasn't much time left until he would snoot his Turkish sperm in burning jets deep into her clasping little American pussy.
Sensing his own climax he grunted down at her: "Are you ready? Are you ready?"
"Yes, yes," she gasped. "Fuck me, on God, FUCK ME!"
She hated him, but he was doing to her what no man could. He had set her whole body afire with his tortuous tongue and cock and had driven her to sex-maddened heights that she had never imagined existed. She wanted him to drive his huge cock deep into her belly until he would split her open. Every tortured muscle of her body twitched spastically as she neared her orgasm. Now nothing mattered but his pelvis smashing against her buttocks, thrusting his massive cock deep into her fiery pussy, escape seemed like only a dream to her lust-crazed mind. Only the ravaging fucking that the Turk was giving her had any reality.
"Pig," she moaned softly, not caring whether he heard her. "Pig, Pig."
Herezun had heard her moan, but didn't know what she said. As he drove himself to frenzy he could feel his balls releasing their pent up sperm into her hot, throbbing passage through his wildly jerking cock. He groaned in anguish as the white hot fluid coursed through his cock and spewed into her exploding cunt as he rammed his pelvis like a lust-maddened demon against her buttocks. He threw his head back and roared with animal anguish as she groaned like a wild woman and continued to thrust her bottom back at his driving cock.
But as she bucked back against him, his quickly deflating prick slipped out with a plopping noise, leaving her to fuck nothing but empty space.
"Pig!" she screamed at him. He had fucked her until he had his own climax, but had left her unsatisfied. "Pig!" she yelled again. "Pig! Pig! Pig!"
Suddenly her screaming snapped him back into reality to see her thrusting her round white buttocks against nothingness and hear her screaming her wild obscenities at him.
"You Turkish Pig," she yelled again, falling onto her side to look at him. She was insane with desire and there was nothing to relieve her. "You think you're such a great lover...I only let you fuck me because I knew you would let me go tomorrow, and now I find out you can't even fuck like a man. You won't even satisfy me. You're a pig like all you fucking Turks. Nothing but a pig!"
For a second he looked at the half-insane girl screaming at him from the couch, then suddenly, like a cobra, his arm struck out and his hand smashed against the tender pink flesh of her cheeks with a loud smack. As she fell from the force of the blow to the floor, Herezun jumped up and ran to the bar where his scimitar lay unsheathed.
"Bitch," he yelled, unable to control his rage. "So you think I'm a pig, huh? I told you this sword could never be put back into its sheath until there's blood on it!"
Rome looked up, her hand at her mouth, to see the Turk holding the long curved sword above his head, poised for the kill.
For seconds he stood above her ready to strike. But as he listened to her whimpering he hesitated, then slowly lowered the shiny blade.
"I-I didn't mean it," she pleaded, but he knew that she was lying.
She had made a fool of Kemal Herezun, Captain of the Turkish Cavalry. Nothing could change that. He could have made her a respected and influential woman in Turkey, but now she had destroyed everything. She was a har and she was too selfish, to be a Turkish Officer's woman. But what could be done?
Slowly he lowered the long blade to his side and walked toward the stand up closet where he removed a robe and threw it over his shoulder. Once more he looked at the girl and then, just before slamming the door behind him turned and spat viciously back at her sobbing form:
"You wanted cock. I'll see that you get it. I've got a half-wit who's been in the Company Stockade for months now. By this time he should be ready for something like you."
CHAPTER ll
THE MANIAC
The sobbing, prostrate girl could not believe her ears. The Captain was going to turn her over to some sex-starved maniac who had not seen a woman in months.
God, what horrible indignities would he heap upon her helpless body, what depraved things would he do to her? Would the Captain leave her alone with him or would he stand by and smirkingly watch her shame and degradation at the hands of the beast he had spoken of.
One thing she did know, the fear and foreboding were increasing and intensifying in her body with each second that passed and she had to have another drink or go completely out of her mind.
She waited for a moment to make certain the Captain would not suddenly appear in the doorway again and re-filled her glass from the bottle of cognac he had left sitting on the table. She downed it completely, the rough brown liquid burning less now that her senses had been dampened by the beating he had given her. Before she knew it, she had taken almost a quarter of the bottle and was certain he would notice that it was gone. He would be angry if he knew she were purposely trying to drink herself into insensibility and there was no telling what he might do. But...what did it matter...could he do any worse to her than he had threatened a moment ago when he had walked from the room? No, damn him, she thought drunkenly and turned the whole bottle to her lips, taking another quarter of it in a single gulp.
* * *
A long time later, and she was not certain just how long, she was shaken from the hazy half-drunken sleep she had fallen into, by the door being roughly opened. She held her breath and gasped as she saw a burly looking guard standing with his rifle in his hands in the doorframe.
"Captain says, come," he motioned in unison with his broken English.
Rome used all her will power to force herself to rise from the couch and walk toward the door. She trembled in spite of the warming glow the alcohol had instilled in her battered body and knew she had no choice but to go. If she didn't do as the Captain commanded, he would only force her, and that would be a thousand times worse. No, it wouldn't help anything for her to show resistance now, she would just have to wait her chance. Besides, they probably would enjoy her helpless struggles, like ancient Romans, deriving sadistic pleasure in the helpless whines of the Christians as they fell before the tearing jaws of the beasts of the coliseum, simply because they were suffering.
No, fighting would only make matters worse and she couldn't bear this to go on for too long. She would just have to bear up under it until the chance for escape came. She knew that she had to do it. There was nothing else in the world that could help her but her own willpower and courage.
She was completely alone!
She followed the silent Turkish guard down the hallway and out into the courtyard. She had trouble walking because her legs kept trembling and her knees felt so weak that she was afraid she'd fall, but the guard never slowed and she almost had to run to keep up with him.
The courtyard was completely quiet except for their footsteps and appeared to be deserted-she looked around frantically, trying to find some avenue of escape, but she knew that the moment she made a move to break away she'd be shot by the man who was leading her across the open ground.
There was no way out, she realized numbly...all that was left was for her to follow this man and wonder what awaited her...a horrible maniac who might kill her! It would almost be better, she thought, to run and get a bullet in the back. She struggled with that thought for several seconds as they hurried across the moonlit courtyard, but found that she didn't have the courage to expose herself to sudden death, not while there was still some slight chance of her survival.
"We are here. Go in!" the guard said suddenly.
Rome hadn't realized that they'd already reached their destination and looked at the guard uncomprehendingly until he grabbed her and threw her brutally against the heavy wooden door of the stockade. He prodded her roughly in the back with his rifle ad she tried to open the huge, barred door.
Then, it was opened from the inside, and she found herself staring into Captain Herezun's leering face.
"Come in, Rome, I have someone I'd like you to meet." He laughed evilly and yanked her inside.
She found herself in a small, cold room with only a desk in one corner, and another barred door at the other side. She guessed it must be the internment room, or the warder's office, and that the cells would be on the other side of that other barred door.
"Come on, follow me, you stupid bitch. We don't want to keep our friend waiting, do we?" He took a key from the large circular ring and opened the other door. Pinching her arm painfully he led her down a long, dark corridor of cells until he finally stopped at the last one.
"Fallah should be able to please you," he said as he opened the door. "Yes," he said softly to himself, "it's a shame that I was unable to satisfy you, but I doubt if Fallah will have the same trouble."
Horrified, she stepped into the small cell-trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness and waiting for the Captain as he came in behind her and re-locked the door. For a brief moment, she felt relief...the cell was empty! But then she saw a heavy shadow stir in the corner, and heard the deep, animalistic grunts coming from the grotesque huddled figure.
"OH NO! Oh my God, no! What is it... please..." she moaned pitifully. She shrank back against the wall, trying frantically to escape the nightmarish shape emitting those horrible sounds.
"You shouldn't be afraid, Rome, it's only Fallah," Herezun chuckled softly. "Let me tell you about Fallah," he said, smiling wickedly at her as she cowered speechless against the wall. "Fallah used to be one of my best men...a good soldier, but, more than that he had a spectacular reputation as a lover." He paused momentarily, and then added: "a great lover reputed to have the largest and most active cock in Turkey! Then, unfortunately, he raped a twelve-year-old girl downtown. The child died and I was forced to imprison him, but I was unable to get to him before the mob did...a mob of dried up old women who stoned him in the Plaza for hours before I heard about it. As a result, I'm afraid, he's not much more than a vegetable and, in addition, he's terrified of women," he paused, "though I don't guess you can blame him."
He grabbed her brutally by the shoulders. "But, we're going to change that, aren't we, Rome," he said menacingly. "Yes, we...YOU are going to change that!"
Herezun moved over to the corner by the huddling figure.
"You know what I'm going to do, Fallah, I'm going to give this beautiful white, American girl to you." He was answered by a series of frightening whimpering, both from the beast on the floor and from the terrified girl who clawed at the barred door.
"Oh please, please leave me alone," Rome pleaded, sobbing up through her fear-contorted mouth. "I didn't mean to say those things to you, I swear I didn't...it just happened."
"This is just going to happen too, Rome, just going to happen," he said and then turned back to Fallah.
"Fallah, listen to me. This woman will not hurt you...she's going to make you feel real good...she won't hurt you!" His voice changed as he talked to the crouching moron, becoming soft and gentle. "I'll be right here, Fallah, and I'm going to watch everything. I won't let her hurt you. See, she's not like the others, the ones who threw rocks at you. She's afraid of you!...and, look...look, she doesn't look like the others either, does she?"
Herezun reached across the small cell and in one violent motion ripped Rome's flimsy dress from her shoulders, baring her to her waist.
She tried frantically to cover herself, but as she brought her hands up to cover her naked breasts, he grabbed the lower part of her dress and stripped it completely from her-and she stood there sobbing and trembling-totally nude before the watering eyes of the creature in the corner.
"See that, Fallah? She's beautiful, and she wants you to make love to her, she wants you to take that huge cock of yours and throw it to her like a stallion. Here, you want to see more of her, Fallah?"
He grabbed Rome by the arm and ordered her to he down on the cot in the middle of the room.
"On your back, you bitch, and spread your legs!" He hissed at her and the words echoed through her pain-deadened mind.
Rome's legs went limp and she let her thighs fall slightly apart from their own weight. She could feel the Captain reaching down and grasping her ankles and pulling her legs apart, her buttocks scraped painfully across the rough prickly surface of the moldy blankets.
"Open them wider, Rome, I want Fallah to see how inviting your tight little pussy looks."
Reluctantly, with tears of shame and fear coursing down her reddened cheeks, Rome spread them a few inches.
"More, you bitch, more, Fallah can't see you, can you, Fallah," he teased at the quivering form on the floor until his eyes grew wider and small beads of sweat began to form on his scarred forehead.
Rome, following her commands like a robot, spread her thighs wider-but the Captain lost his patience and grabbed her at the ankles and jerked them hard apart. The poor girl sobbed again and again from the pain and humiliation, feeling the raw pink flesh of her vagina stretched open from the outward pressure against her legs. She was totally exposed to the trembling moron's gaze as his eyes locked in lustful desire at the tiny tight opening nestling in the sparse, soft field of blonde hair between her legs.
"There, Fallah, wouldn't you like to sink that huge cock of yours into that tight little cunt, feel it wrap around you like a hot, burning blanket!"
Cringing against the rough surface of the bed, Rome had never felt more naked or frightened in her life. She was at the mercy of a madman and a half-crazed idiot both at the same time and there was nothing that could be done about it. Her flesh still stung from the beating he'd given her and she couldn't go through the horrible pain of that again. She would rather die than go through this humiliation but she knew that they wouldn't kill her even if she begged for death, not right away anyway. The hate-filled Captain was enjoying his sadistic revenge too much to listen to any kind of pleas for mercy, in fact he would probably enjoy it a hundred times more if he could get her to beg. There was no hope at all now for anything and she didn't try to stop the hopeless tears of humiliation and fright that were streaming down her cheeks.
She jumped suddenly as she felt a pressure between her legs. The Captain had knelt down beside her and had brushed his hand against the tender flesh surrounding her vagina.
"Shell fuck you better than any woman you've ever had, Fallah, look at the way she jumps when she thinks about you crawling on top of her and screwing her with that big thing of yours," and he thrust a finger hard into the moist opening of Rome's spread vagina, bringing another helpless twist of her body and a groan from her tortured lips.
"See, Fallah, see how much she loves it...SHE WANTS YOU TO FUCK HER!"
"Y-Y-Yeah," the demented Fallah sputtered and Rome's eyes sprung open in fright as she suddenly looked up and saw the prisoner get up and advance across the floor with a lust-crazed look on his face and a great bulge in his pants.
"I-I...I...I'D fuck her," he mouthed wetly, not taking his eyes from between her legs where the grinning Captain had expertly insinuated his fingers and was methodically massaging them around and around to widen her vaginal passage.
Then he grabbed her and threw her roughly over onto her face, and she buried her head into the mattress and lay quivering in fear and humiliation.
Oh God, would this nightmare, this horrible nightmare never end ran helter-skelter through her fevered thoughts. She'd rather die, rather die. But not the pain again, she couldn't stand it. She would do anything!
She heard Fallah's clothes dropping hurriedly from his body, and she remembered making love to the Captain and began to wish that it was the Captain again, and not this horrible beast. At least, he had been human and gentle about it, and for some unknown reason she had responded. It had been animal-like, but still it had been a response. Now there was nothing but the shame and humiliation of lying here on this filthy, awful bed while the idiot Fallah finally had his way with her, and the venomous Herezun egged him on to heap greater indignities upon her helpless body.
She jerked as she suddenly felt hands on her buttocks behind. It was the Captain and he was slowly drawing them apart. Rome couldn't see his eyes but she imagined them as burning and glistening like fiery coals-he wanted his revenge and he was getting it a thousand-fold.
"Look, Fallah, you can fuck her in here. Shell love it," he chuckled madly, "it's such a tight little ass-hole." The Captain kept crooning to the imbecile until his demented passion began to reach a point where it would burst...burst into a sadistic and crazed violence.
Rome felt the hands move away and they were replaced suddenly by wild slavering lips tracing a wet trail all around her quivering oval buttocks. He was biting into them without control, bringing tiny gasps of pain from her as she screwed her pelvis down into the mattress in an effort to escape his tortuous touch.
He pulled her buttocks apart with his thumbs and she could feel his long tongue snaking down and licking into the hot, slightly sweating crevice. He pulled and stretched at her anus and she could feel the hurting tightness of the taut rubbery ring of flesh around it. It hurt, and she felt lewd and obscene and her whole soul, not just her body, felt naked and exposed to all the world as the crazed form hovered over her buttocks and slobberingly plundered the tiny brown hole. But she didn't care now. Nothing mattered except to avoid the Captain's torture, to escape further beatings.
There was pressure against her ankles and she did not resist as she felt her legs pulled open wide until the tips of her toes were hanging down on either side of the filthy bed. Both men probed at her anus and she jerked automatically from the sudden pain.
"Relax," the Captain hissed at her from the side of the bed, "open your ass."
Rome gasped and pleaded silently for a second and then relaxed to be used...used as the slavering imbecile behind her desired. She sucked in her breath as he dug at her anus again with his middle finger, insinuating it slowly and methodically into the depths of her rectum. She moaned and pressed her face tight into the mattress as she felt him slip it in harshly up to the first knuckle and begin to move it around sadistically in her tight contracting ass-hole. He dug his finger deeper and she cried out, but the scream died in her throat as she buried her pain-contorted face hard down into the tear-stained pillow.
The crazed Fallah's finger impaled her deeper into her tightly constricted anal passage with greater force. She began to jerk her buttocks involuntarily to escape the cruel probing, but her quivers only drove it deeper into her.
"Go on, Fallah, fuck her in the ass," the impatient Captain at her side goaded. "Fuck her in the ass! She'll love it!"
The prisoner slipped his finger from her rectum with a wet, sucking sound and clasped his broad thick penis with his hand. He had never felt so excited in his life...the fear of women was gone, and it was his Captain who was urging him to fuck the most beautiful woman he had ever seen...his body shook in anticipation as he looked down on the helpless girl stretched beneath him, so vulnerable and open.
He half-lowered himself, half-fell onto her back-and she could feel his hands fumbling between the cheeks of her ass and pulling them wide apart. He lifted her smooth, round buttocks in the air and she could feel the tip of his cock probing against her for several seconds, trying to find the tight puckered hole.
And suddenly he did.
He pushed forward brutally, and then...and then the sudden spasm of pain so unbearable that she twisted and screamed, again and again, trying with all her strength to get away. Her buttocks were moving like a wild animal thrashing in a trap, but her jerks only succeeded in driving his great, swollen penis deeper and deeper inside her.
She felt the screaming pressure of the demented animal's body as he drove into her with pulverizing strength, pushing her down into the bed, punishing the lovely white bitch's ass twisting beneath his bulging eyes.
She bucked back up at him, trying to throw him off-but as she bucked up, he rammed down and imbedded thick, rock-hard cock all the way to the hilt in the soft, flaccid tunnel of her ass.
"Aaaaaahhhhggggg, God!" she screamed in pain and continued her helpless thrashing beneath him. She no longer felt human as the huge throbbing prick ripped far up into her rectum, pushing against the bottom of her belly inside. She felt as though she were split open by a knife and her in-sides were torn and ripped as they had never been before. The pain was unbearable and she fought in wild desperation for a full minute longer against the brutal fleshy pole sunk in her backside, and then, with a final groan of hopeless surrender her strength failed.
She collapsed in a limp mass of flesh beneath the body of the man who had her pinned to the bed like a butterfly in an insect collection. The sadistic Captain bent down beside her on the bed and hissed on her ear.
"Do you like it in the ass, bitch? Must be awful tight, isn't it?" he said laughing.
And that made it a million times worse, to know that he stood there during every moment and was watching and enjoying her crude and inhuman humiliation at the hands of the half-wit Turkish enlisted man. His crackling laughter reverberated throughout the small cell like the voice of doom itself, urging the panting Fallah, who lay with his cock throbbing inside her, to rip her apart.
His laughing mockery and insults droned on and on until the pain in Rome's rectum gradually began to subside, the pain from the giant entry began to ease a little. She still felt ripped and stretched there but the time that he had lain not moving on her gave her anus time to gradually adjust to the unnatural invasion and her mind began to clear a little. The jungle instinct of survival that lies buried deep in the mind of every human began to reverberate in her brain.
Two could play the same game, she thought. She, too, could appeal to the animal instincts of the half-witted Fallah...he was her only help now to protect her from a horrible death or mutilation. If only she could somehow turn him against the Captain...but, to do that, there was only one way...
Fallah suddenly groaned as he felt her anal muscles tighten around his long, thick length buried so deep inside her. His cock throbbed harder and he couldn't believe his senses until her buttocks began a slow methodical, but hardly perceptible, rotation beneath him. He flexed his penis deep inside her rectum and felt an answering signal from her anal muscles that convinced his unbelieving mind that she was responding to him.
He gasped as he felt it, felt her throb and tighten around him like a burning glove of the softest leather. His joy knew no bounds. He had conquered her! She wanted him as much as he wanted her!
Again and again and again he drove into her...Rome knelt before him and prayed, prayed that her revulsion and humiliation would not betray her as it had done before with the Captain. Prayed that she could hold out long enough to convince her only possible hope of an ally, the demented Fallah, that he had indeed conquered her and could have her forever if he would only help her escape the Captain.
As he pounded so deeply inside her body, she began to feel that strange masochistic feeling of whoredom that lies latent in every woman. She wanted to enjoy it, she had to enjoy it! Or he would know that she was only pretending, only using him. There was still pain, but it was strangely pleasurable and she found herself thrusting and squirming back to meet his thrusts, to meet the obscene impalement as he jerked forward into her.
Behind her the impassioned and delighted Fallah groaned each time he surged up into her and she too was moaning beneath him and twisting and waving the whiteness of her ass at him in an invitation to fuck into her harder and deeper. Her face was turned to the side and he could see her teeth bared back in ecstatic delight, her tongue flicking out wetly in time to the increasing power of his long, smooth strokes that carried the full length of his long plunging rod into the depths of her body.
He had her, she wanted him! "OHHhhhhhhhhh...Ohhhhhaaaaahhhh..." she moaned and grunted beneath him and he pressed forward as far as he could, pulling the soft smooth cheeks of her waving buttocks wide apart to allow him to go deeper. His cock was buried to the hilt up her painfully expanded rectum and he suddenly gasped again.
Her hand reached beneath her body and gently caressed and cradled his balls, scraping her fingernails over them in a maddening, teasing motion that brought saliva running from the edges of his mouth.
"Oh, yes, darling, just like that...fuck it like that!" she crooned through her tightly clenched lips as he gorged into her buttocks as hard as he could and rotated the giant blood-filled head of his cock deep around inside her...
Rome could almost feel herself splitting open from the power and pressure he was exerting deep down inside her, but she gritted her teeth and did all the things she knew he would want her to do. All the time she thrust back against him, hiding her shame and humiliation in her grim determination to convince him that she wanted it more than anything in the world.
AND SHE DID.
She could feel his hugeness inside her stretched and expanded rectum growing, growing and swelling, and she knew that soon he would cum. She knew he was going to shoot his lewd hot sperm deep up into her helpless anus, and that there was nothing she could do about it...she would have given anything in the world to stop him if there was any other way, but there wasn't... she would have to take it all inside her even if the shame and degradation killed her... .
The crazed man began to fuck into her ass-hole with increasing speed and power...he spread the cheeks of her ass even wider and watched with bulging eyes as his pistoning cock split the whiteness of her ass like a great boiling locomotive tunneling through a snow-covered mountain. His cock felt as though it would burst, not just at the swollen end, but the whole length of it as she clasped and unclasped all of it with the deep inner muscles of her body.
Rome cried out in desperate prayer, unable to stop herself in the mad scramble of the lust-crazed maniac who strove to complete his orgasm.
"Oh God, Oohhhh God!" she screamed, the sobs choking down her throat as she felt him jerk inside her and realized to her horror that the moment had come when he was going to explode inside her and fill her helpless and unprotected body with his hot, obscene cum and there was nothing she could do about it except he kneeling before him and feign rampant passion.
"Oh, cum, darling...cuuummmmmm...hurry!" she shouted back at his sweating body, wanting to get it over with, wanting to end it forever.
There was a muffled gurgle behind her and she felt his great throbbing cock burst like a dam as he gave one last tremendous thrust into the back of her upraised buttocks and emptied his hot sperm in wave after wave into the depths of her rectum.
Rome thought the great ejaculating instrument would never stop and she could feel the hot, sticky overflowing his still jerking penis and oozing through the tight nether ring of her anus that was clamped around the base of his throbbing weakening cock.
Her humiliation and shame were complete. She had whored herself and didn't even know yet if it would help save her. She gasped out a deep sigh of relief as she felt his deflated and limp shaft slowly withdraw from her flooded behind. There was a slight sucking sound as it slipped wetly from her distended glistening buttocks. Then a sudden rush of cool air into the moist shininess of her loins as she remained kneeling with her buttocks wavering in the air for a moment before she collapsed weakly onto the bed... .
The satiated and ecstatic Fallah lay mumbling incoherently at her side. He couldn't believe it. She was HIS! She wanted HIM! He had thought there would never be another woman in his life, but now he had her and no one could ever take her away from him.
Rome lay with her chest heaving from the awful ordeal of sodomy, her whole rectal passage ached and felt torn, and she could feel it burning slightly where the moron's pool of seminal fluid still lay deep inside her ravaged body. She waited, knowing that soon the moment would come that would tell if it had all been worth it, or if she'd just let herself get fucked in that horrible way for nothing.
That moment came a second later.
"Now, it's my turn," she suddenly heard hissed venomously from the foot of the bed. She looked down and her eyes opened wide in horror. Herezun began to unbutton his shirt and leered at her sadistically through a terrifying mask of lust and bestiality.
The reclining Fallah, a lazy self-satisfied smile still frozen to his face, raised his head and stuttered:
"WH...wha...what are you going to do... do?" He asked, suddenly showing alarm.
Tm going to fuck her until she wishes she were dead, you stupid moron," Herezun answered viciously.
"N-No you ain't...NO!" Fallah shouted. "S-She's mine...she loves me!" Fallah grabbed Rome and pulled her to him like a lion protecting his cubs.
"Why, you stupid bastard! She..." but that's as far as Herezun got before Fallah jumped him.
Rome cringed down into the mattress, hiding her face in the darkness and trying not to hear the terrifying sounds of the struggle between Herezun and the enraged Fallah.
Oh God, please let it be Fallah, please let him win and get me out of here! Over and over again she prayed...and then she heard the muffled sounds of the shots, and the dull thudding sound as someone hit the floor.
"A nice try, bitch," Herezun said, panting and trying to control his quivering rage, "but, I'm afraid it wasn't good enough." Then, he added in white-hot anger, "You've made me kill a man...something that was once a man, and a close friend of mine!"
He moved to the door, and shouted for a guard, and then turned back to her.
"FUCKING IS TOO GOOD FOR YOU, I'LL THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE!" and then he slammed the cell door and left her lying there, her legs still spread obscenely apart and her face contorted with the horrible fear of what was still to come... .
CHAPTER 12
BATUMI
Captain Kemal Herezun stood motionless, staring sightlessly into the semi-darkness. Far below him, for he stood at the walled parapet at the topmost part of his mountain forest, stretched the bleak and cruel mountains of Turkey and in the distance lay the shimmering ebony ink of the Black Sea.
He'd been standing there for several hours, a rigid and silent figure, seething with anger. The tall, dark man seemed to have been carved from the granite walls behind him, a stone monument to hatred and cruelty. He moved only to light another cigarette to replace the one that had burned un-smoked down to his fingers. He didn't seem to notice that the sun was rising or the moon waning, and he appeared oblivious to the sounds of a garrison that was beginning to awaken around him.
That stupid, conniving American bitch, he thought, I could kill her, but even that would be too good for her. It had been this sole that had kept him from shooting her, or splitting her with his scimitar, from killing her immediately when she had turned Fallah on him. I'll have to find some other way, some way to make her pay for what she's done to me...I must make her wish that she had been allowed to stay in the Compound...to make her wish for death!
So many alternatives had passed through his mind, but none that would bring him exactly the revenge he craved.
I know I can kill her myself, he thought, or have her killed...tortured...but even torture is too good for her. I've seen the results of torture, and I know that a man at a certain point can close his mind to any type of pain, and from that moment on, he's beaten you. She'll never beat me! Not that way.
He felt secure in his knowledge that no one would ever know of her presence at the garrison. There would never be a word from his men and he knew that the men who'd known that she was in the Compound, and that he had taken her with him, would never speak. His power in Trabzon was absolute, and he was totally capable of fulfilling his threats. And, if he decided to have her body hidden in the mountains, only the wolves would ever find it.
Suddenly, he was startled by a sound behind him and he whirled to face the intruder, his scimitar ready and flashing in his hand.
"Sir...I...I... " the terrified sentry cried out, "I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't know you were here..."
"What? Oh, it's you, Gerza. That's all right, I'm leaving. Is everything in..." He paused because he saw the obvious fear and concern in the man's eyes..."what's the matter?"
"Your scimitar, Sir," the man said hesitantly, almost afraid to mention it because it was drawn and had, as he knew, to be used.
"My what," Captain Herezun said puzzled, and then glanced down at the glittering curve of steel in his hand. He hadn't even realized that he still carried it.
"Go, Gerza, call a meeting of all the lieutenants in one hour. Do not be afraid. This will not be used on you, I have another need for it."
The sentry darted back to the rooftop doorway to carry out the Captain's order. As he hurried down the steep stairways, he wondered about the scimitar, and why the Captain had so suddenly smiled when he'd looked down at it.
Back on the roof, the Captain laughed aloud and contentedly as he ran his fingers across the razor-sharp edge of die blade in his hand. The sun had risen until the courtyard beneath was bathed in golden light and the brassy bugle sound of reveille shattered the dawn quietness.
Captain Herezun was still smiling as he left the roof and walked quickly to his quarters... .
* * *
Rome stirred painfully on the couch, her head buried in the pillow to shut out the agonizing sound of her convulsive sobbing. She hadn't been able to sleep again since the guard had brought her back to the Captain's drawing room. She'd only lay there in the frightening darkness and cried as her body shook with the pain of her brutal ravishment and the agony of her tortured memories.
It can't be true! It can't be, she thought. Oh my God! please...please make all this a horrible dream. Please let me wake up and find that none of this has ever happened.
Again and again she went over what had happened. She couldn't blank out the horrible memory of Fallah, and his violent death, and her mind spun in terrified confusion as she tried not to remember the Captain's threat as he left her in the cell...her thoughts tumbled erratically as they tried to erase and protect her from the imaginings of what could happen to her.
Suddenly, she heard a sound. There was someone opening the door! Oh God, please, not again! Please don't let him kill me...please don't let him kill me. Her brain screamed again and again, though no sound came from her lips.
Then, the silence was broken by Captain Herezun's voice... "Get up, and get dressed," he ordered her, but his voice was strangely quiet and elated. He threw her dress to her and then stood at the window with his back to her while she dressed. He said nothing else until she'd finished dressing, and though her hands trembled she seemed to have drawn some comfort from the softness of his voice. She knew how deceptive his voice could be, but when he had spoken he'd seemed almost happy, not at all like someone who was ready to murder her.
Finally, he turned to her. He was smiling! And, then what he said almost made her cry with happiness.
"I'll have one of my men get you a coat, Miss Williams, you're leaving here...and it may be a little chilly."
She forgot the way he'd treated her in her sudden relief, and she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "Oh, thank you, Captain, thank you," she cried joyfully, hardly noticing the way his shoulders stiffened when she touched him.
"It's my pleasure, Miss Williams, believe me," and he chuckled softly. There seemed to be something strange in the way he spoke, something evil, but it didn't matter to her...not anymore, not now when he was taking her home! He was taking her home, to the Americans, wasn't he!
"Captain, please, it is true, isn't it? You are letting me go?" Her voice was filled with emotion and dread as she waited for him to answer.
"Yes, Miss Williams, you have my word. I am letting you leave the garrison, and my men and I will escort you." He smiled oddly again at her again and led her out of the room.
She followed him down the hallway, fighting the urge to run on ahead. It was true!
And, then she stood there on the broad outside steps, blinking in the bright sunlight. She shaded her eyes against the glare and stared at the group of men that waited there on horseback...
Where was the jeep? Why were all these men here...they weren't in uniform, some sort of bloused pants, soft boots, and brightly colored vests...and the horses, why the horses? She turned to look again at the Captain. He was dressed the same way!
She tried to think, to speak...but the rearing and neighing of the horses confused her...
"Captain...I...I...don't understand. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed, "You promised me that you were letting me go...wha-what are these men doing here!" Her voice filled the courtyard, and the horsemen smiled as they watched the panic-stricken girl cry and pull at their captain's sleeve.
"No, Miss Williams, I promised you that you were leaving my garrison," he said softly, and then smiling as he added: "And, as for my men, they're going with us...this is what we always wear when we go to Batumi."
"Batumi!"
"That's right, Miss Williams. Batumi...the Russian Border Station!"
"Why...why?" She stared at him uncomprehendingly. "But, why are you taking me with you? Please, I don't want to go...I don't want to go!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Williams," he said, chuckling, "Otherwise, how else would you get there?"
"But...Russia...why? Why? She couldn't understand. He had to be joking, why would he take her to Russia?
"It's very simple actually. I don't like Americans, especially you, but I like the Russians even less. So, I'm giving you to them." He paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then added almost in retrospect: "Although I doubt that they will be too happy when they find you."
"You're leaving me there?" she asked unbelievingly. What was he saying? He couldn't mean that!
"Yes, Miss Williams, I'm leaving you there. As a present. After all, it was you who made me draw my sword and if I must kill to retain my honor, it only seems fair that I leave them something in return for one of their comrades." He grabbed her roughly by the arm and led her to a horse held by one of his men.
"You can ride, I trust," he asked her.
"Yes," she said without thinking, "I...I mean, no...no!"
"That's good, it will make things easier." He started to help her up and then stopped.
"Wait! this will get in the way. We have a long way to go, twice as far as you," he added laughing. He grabbed her dress at mid-thigh, and in one motion ripped away the whole lower part. She tried frantically to cover herself because he'd exposed her legs almost completely, all the way up to the ragged edges of the tattered remains of her panties.
His men all leaned forward hungrily, laughing as he grabbed her and threw her onto the horse.
She sat there holding the pommel of the saddle, silent except for soft convulsive sobs that shook her body.
He called his men together, giving the reins of her horse to one, and then turned to her:
"Come, let's go, Miss Williams, my men and I want to get back before tomorrow's sun rises."
* * *
Epilogue
The Compound...Cekuz and his men...Hebran...the memory of all that was gone. Even Captain Herezun, and that horrible trip through the mountains. That, too, had passed.
There was only the steady drip...drip...drip...of blood by her head. The gentle splash of each drop as it landed on the wooden floor.
Rome Williams lay petrified on the floor of the Russian barracks, afraid that the sound of her pounding heart or the soft trickle of tears as they ran down her cheeks would wake the sleeping men. She waited in horror, watching the early rays of the dawn sun begin to creep beneath the door at the other end of the long barracks. She tried not to look at the face of the dead man who lay on the bed above her, tried not to see the vacant blind stare of his open eyes. She couldn't move, she was so tightly bound, and she could hardly breathe through the tight cloth that gagged her...
Her head hurt terribly from the blow when Herezun had knocked her out before he brought her into the barracks to leave her helpless beside the body of the man he'd murdered...she could only he there in the early morning darkness and pray that the day would never come...pray that there would never be another day in her life. But...she knew there would be...and with it...the large naked line of Russian soldiers who now lay sleeping around her...
