She was pushed back onto the table. Hands held her from every angle.
Her breasts showed cleanly through her torn gown, the men waited, lined up and one by one, began to remove their cocks from their trousers.
She was scared to death.
They had the wrong person. She was Sheila Grant, daughter of a powerful executive. Not some cheap hooker that they'd mistaken her for.
But after the events of the night, even this was not unusual.
She'd been raped by a gang of bikers, by a crime lord, and by a group of people she still didn't understand.
She'd never fucked so much in one night.
But there was more.
Lots more.
And it was starting now!
CHAPTER ONE
Sheila Grant felt the sun come back out from behind a cloud.
Ah, she thought, that's much better. Much better indeed.
She was sunning herself beside the family's swimming pool, and she thought she was by herself.
She sat up, looked around and after reassuring herself that no one was around, she unsnapped her bikini top and let her large round breasts pop out into the sunlight.
She looked down at them. She was always so thankful for them when she looked at them. She couldn't imagine going through life with tiny tits.
She knew what they were good for. They were for driving men wild.
And she knew how to use them too.
But right now, she was anxious to get them as tanned as the rest of her tight supple body.
She was going to the islands next week and it simply would not do to appear on the beaches down there, with anything less than a perfect tan.
She lay back and felt her breasts roll to either side of her body.
Her skin was glistening from sweat, but she didn't mind. It felt good.
Suddenly, she heard a noise.
She sat up, and saw Ramirez the gardener coming out of the shed over behind the rose garden.
She considered putting her top back on, but she knew how badly he had the hots for her. He always had, ever since her tits had started to blossom, and now, with the body of a full grown woman, she knew that she drove him up the wall.
Sometimes, she would be certain that he was outside her window watching her.
She'd never actually caught him at it, of course, but once or twice she would hear strange noises from the bushes beneath her bedroom window and one morning she even found footprints as if someone had been standing and maybe pacing for a long time.
She never knew why she didn't confront him with her suspicions, perhaps get a look at his shoes to see if they matched, but for some reason she just let it slide.
But after she'd begun to suspect him, she realized that he would turn up in odd places. If she had to take a shower, or maybe a long bath, that's when he would suddenly have to do some repair work on the roof, and guess where he'd put the ladder?
That's right. And even though he wouldn't ever be so obvious to alarm her, she regarded him with suspicion and tried to keep her distance.
Except the possibility that someone might be watching her as she dressed, undressed, lay on her bed and masturbated ... this excited her. Perhaps she was simply an unfulfilled exhibitionist. Perhaps.
Whatever, she'd started keeping the window shades open more often, started spending a lot of time down by the pool in her skimpiest bikinis, would sometimes run from the shower in the bungalow apartment out behind the house into the big house itself wrapped only in a flimsy towel.
And if she ever tried to look around, usually she'd see the eyes, furtively looking away, but filled with lust for her body.
As they were now. They were heavy with lust. Even though she made it a point to not acknowledge him or give any indication at all that she knew he existed, she could imagine those eyes nonetheless.
Staring right at her, that's what they'd be doing, trying to soak up as much of the sight of her bare breast flopping lazily in the sun as they possibly could before they were forced to look away.
She stretched a long leisurely stretch, and with her sunglasses hiding her eyes, she stole a glance in his direction. Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the wall to the garage, looking like he was doing something to the window frame, but every two seconds stealing glances in her direction.
Poor man, thought Sheila. He must be horny as hell. He never got laid, as far as she knew.
She started to rub her pussy.
Not just to give him a show either. She liked to rub her pussy, and it gave her a good feeling that she liked to produce in her as often as possible.
To do it, she simply slipped her finger underneath the band of her bikini bottom, started to work at the slit between her legs, and then she moved her finger up to her clitoris, making certain that she pulled back enough of the material of her bathing suit to give him a good view of the pink shining meat inside her.
She kept her head back, looking up at the sky as she fingered herself higher and higher.
She glanced in his direction again, not moving her head, just peeking through her dark lenses.
He was openly drooling. Pathetic case of the slobbering hots.
Hey, what the fuck, why not give the poor bastard something to remember.
She pulled her bathing suit all the way off, lay there naked and glistening in the sun.
Her complexion was as smooth and flawless as the summer sky. She rubbed her fingers over her body, feeling its tightness, tight, yet at the same time yielding.
She loved the feeling of fingers skimming over the surface of her body. Even if it were just her alone, she would respond to the tactile sensations with instant arousal.
She did so now.
Immediately, her cunt began to secrete an increased flow of thick heavily scented musk.
Sheila slid her fingers along the wet gash, let them be covered with the pungent liquid and then brought the oily tips to her tongue, running up and down licking up all of it.
Ramirez was panting. He was leaning against his rake for support, but the handle was too smooth and didn't supply enough friction to support his weight.
Of course, captivated as he was by the dream in the real world he'd suddenly dropped into, he sort of stayed oblivious of the fact that his hands, and consequently the rest of his body, were steadily slipping further and further down the pole.
Inevitably, he reached a point where his center of gravity went off the edge. Carrying him with it.
SPLAT-T-t. Right on his ass. With the rake teetering ominously, tilting further, further ... right on his head.
Whereupon it crashed through the window of the garage.
Knocking over a shelf, precipitating a series of further crashes, an added touch of broken glass, and (? ! ) chimes.
To say nothing of peals of laughter pouring from Sheila's throat.
She couldn't contain herself. Buster Keaton couldn't have staged it better.
Her breast shook merrily as she giggled.
Ramirez, of course, was crushed, humiliated, and saw no alternative but to kill the American bitch and then take his own life.
Well, maybe he'd reconsider on that very heavy handed step, but he was feeling a little low.
And there was no graceful means of escape. To simply slink off, pretending ignorance of her presence would be unthinkable and an intolerable victory for the American bitch.
What then. Kill her!
No, he'd already ruled that out, mustn't get carried away, after-all.
Wait! What was this. The American bitch was getting up. She was standing up. .how tall she is ... how beautiful oh those unthinkable bosoms, those globular clouds of flesh, those ... somehow, the American words captured a feeling closer to his heart, or at least his ... his member . ... What was it? Ah yes. Tits.
Tits.
Tits tits tits.
Oh, how they wiggled and shook. She knew the belly dancer's art, the setting up of counter vibrations in the fleshy parts of the body, doubling the rhythm, causing a flood of ripples to dance across the skin.
She was near now, so near he could see each individual hair. So light, so soft. Not like Izdah, or Jahelri, of Sialdi, with their forests of hair running from their bellies to their knees. And thick patches of it puffing out from beneath their armpits.
For so long, he'd thought that to be a sign of unity with the earth mother, goddess and spirit of all life, but now he wasn't so sure.
Somehow, unity with the mud and unity with the earth mother no longer felt to have the bond between them they once had.
It bothered him. He was succumbing to this decadent culture. He had contracted the disease of the West. It was poisoning him. But he couldn't help it.
He liked slim firm bodies with soft small patches of hair at the golden lips.
He liked arms that felt like glass, not like grass.
And he liked smooth flat bellies.
And bosoms. Uh, tits. He liked tits. Big tits. Big floppy tits.
Tits that floated, tits that sank, tits that were bloated and tits that stank, he didn't care.
He wanted them all.
Of course, he didn't get close to too many. Not much closer than Two-fifty for a skin magazine.
Those amazed him also. In all the long years with Izdah, he'd gazed directly upon the dripping flesh itself perhaps four times. Ah, Izdah. She'd had some rather firm concepts concerning the making of love.
One forced oneself to endure, and to thank the gods that no man could last forever.
Ah, Izdah, I miss you less and less.
But all the bright colorful pictures of pink meat and gaping pussy flesh could not prepare him for what. was, yes, actually taking place before his amazed eyes.
She was before him. She stood before him.
As he was still sprawled half on the ground, he found his nose approximately at cunt level. Or nose to clit, you might say.
And now it was nose on clit. Or clit on nose rather, as it was she who was making the advance.
Unheard of! Ramirez searched deeply within himself to see if he was truly capable of coping with this situation.
To his joy, he discovered that he was.
And he couldn't see it as the unspeakable sin either.
Perhaps the misguided act.
Maybe even the overpowering loss of judgment.
All these had been warned against.
He had memorized the passages in the holy books.
He had recited the sacred words.
He had sworn to uphold the tenets of his faith in the" land of the heathen.
The only trouble was, they'd never told him the heathen might go and stick something like this in his face....
Oh, oh, oh, he could even smell it.
Ahhhh ... she was a girl full of life. A healthy child indeed. .
But ... she was straddling him, pressing her hips into his face, spreading her ointment-like juices over his lips like a sacrament.
He was filled with the spirit!
He was on fire!
He had his tongue racing through her! He what!
Wasn't that forbidden?
Well, as the Americans also said ... fuck that shit!
This was not covered in any of the scriptures. Of that he was certain.
No doubt about it, those broken down holy men who'd spit that stuff out fifteen centuries ago sure as rain had never thought about the possibility of this wet spread pussy belonging to this rich American bitch could ever be doing this to the face of one of the devout ... '
No way!
So, since they's not bothered to cover the situation, well ... lets see what this little nub does if I just slide my tongue across it--!
Holy shit!!
She's bucking and kicking like a ruptured camel.
And shot water. like an oasis.
He was chewing on just about anything his teeth came in contact with, found a hair or two stuck between some of his looser teeth, but also got the distinct pleasure of feeling her body jump.
He assumed, of course that it was because he was asserting his firm masculinity on the situation and thereby salvaging his pride that had suffered such a dire blow as the rake crashed through the garage window, whereas in actuality, she was jerking her body because he had the subtlety of a blow torch when it came to giving out a tongue lashing.
But Sheila didn't care. This was a kink she hadn't explored before, and to be honest, hadn't ever given it any kind of consideration until just about ten minutes ago.
He was acting just the Way she'd thought. What a child. Almost like a little baby. Well, she'd play a little longer, but then she really had to be getting ready for her date tonight.
Hmmm, she thought. Old Ramirez seemed to be getting really fired up over this. Maybe ... yes, just push his head back and away, take a graceful step to the side, smile sweetly, that's a good boy Ram old buddy, pat him on the head like a good puppy--!
Ramirez had stopped thinking in anything like a human fashion about a half hour ago, remember. So, when Sheila casually dismissed him with her accustomed imperial air, it didn't quite land on the mark she'd had in mind.
The poor fool uncoiled like a spring wound too tight when you pull the back off a watch.
B-OING-G-G!! !
And Sheila discovered that the stakes had just been raised drastically.
"You filthy scummy pig get off me get off me get off me g-e-t o-f-f m-e HELP HELP HELLLLLPPPP!! ! ! "
Ah yes, thought Ramirez, the American bitch quivers at my touch. Now she knows fear, and the lust it generates.
Yes! She shall tremble at my approach, as the lambs fear the lion.
She shall submit to my will!
I will take her and claim her body as my own.
I'll kick this mother-fucker in his greasy balls, thought Sheila, and executed the maneuver at once, with expert precision.
"YEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWCH!! ! ! "
So, he spoke English after all mused Sheila.
"You stupid pig," she yelled, pointing down at his crumpled, shriveled form. "I'll have you on the street! Do you hear me? You'll be begging for jobs cleaning up shit! You stupid ignorant animal!"
She then spat right into his face, turned with a perk flick of her head, and breasts still jiggling merrily, she skipped back to the lounge chair and stepped back into her suit, walked across the yard and went back inside the house.
Ten minutes later, she'd nearly forgotten the entire incident.
He was just a silly grease ball, after-all. What do you expect? She imagined she could have him fired, or probably shot for that matter, but why, actually, go to the bother?
Yes, she'd made up her mind. She'd spare him. He probably needed the job badly. She'd heard her father say that he was trying to save up his money to bring his three wives over to live with him one day. Her father had laughed then. Sheila had known then that Ramirez would die a lonely man.
But what of it? No one told those people to come to America did they. As far as she could see, it made just as much sense for them to stay right were they were. Let their own country worry about them. And most of them didn't even speak English....
But there was David.
Ah, David.
David with his Rolls.
David with his Lear Jet.
David with his unlimited expense account.
David in Paris.
David in Berlin.
David in London.
David on the Riviera.
And Sheila by his side. Of course, this life style hadn't quite evolved yet. At least not with her as an active participant yet. Too young, David would tell her. Talk would be cruel. The difficulties immense.
Wait, he told her. Wait until you are old enough to lead your life as you please. Till you can make your own decisions.
Till the trust fund was turned over to her control.
Meanwhile, there's fucking. And fucking. And more fucking.
Precious little of the rest, and an abundance of fucking.
He was always wanting to fuck.
OK, she liked to fuck, but he did it just because it was something to do.
It just seemed to her that there should be a reason behind it. A goal. Something to make it meaningful.
like getting money.
Hmmm ... she'd thought this all through many times of course. She was an intelligent woman after all.
But the jury was still out on David. In the meantime, she had to agree with him. There was fucking.
And lots of it. She'd almost become addicted to his body. Indeed, she feared losing him would send her into the cold shivers of withdrawal that would prove once and for all just how addicted she had become to him.
The things his prick did to her cunt....
The way the head pulled at her lips at every single stroke of his massive steel rod.
The way he tickled her clitoris by rubbing it through her slit.
The way he squeezed her large breasts around it, fucking her between her tits until he exploded in a white blizzard of jism.
As she lay in the bath tub, the warm water enfolding her, she thought of David, of his supposed wealth, of his cock....
Her eyes began to close, and at the same time, her fingers touched her pussy.
Even in the bathtub, she could tell that past her pussy lips, the wet feeling was from within her own body.
She was constantly wet. Constantly horny. That was something she'd never realized until David began to provide the sexual release she'd always craved.
The feeling of sexual frustration was one she'd simply learned to take for granted.
Masturbating accomplished little, even though she performed it on herself several times a day.
She'd first learned to stimulate her clitoris by squeezing her thighs together.
That was all. Simply apply a steady rhythm of squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing and pretty soon the old funny button would start to sing.
Then it would start to yell.
Then it would shriek.
She'd had difficulty at first keeping her reaction hidden, but after a few weeks of practicing five or six times a day, she learned to set off Fourth of July fireworks inside her cunt without giving the faintest indication with her face.
Once, a teacher had nearly crossed her up by hitting her with a particularly sticky question that required some fairly complex abstract reasoning to come up with an intelligent answer.
Complex along the lines of 'Dick has two apples. Jane has four oranges ... ' but remember, she was coming in a blizzard of muscle spasms ripping all through her body.
Sort of takes the mental process back down to a more primitive level, more direct, overtly emotional, less analytical.
"ULP!! ! " she'd choked in reply to the question, her face turning red, nearly falling out of her chair.
So it hadn't been without risks.
Then she'd graduated to Ben Wa balls.
All day long, walking from class to class, she'd feel them rocking back and forth inside her cunt.
And again the orgasms filled her day.
But it hadn't been enough. How far short of her potential she'd been falling was driven home with brutal finality the first time she'd let David fuck her.
After pulling her pants down and gently lifting each foot from the crumpled material about her ankles, he had slowly began to nibble his way up the inside of her thighs. One small fraction of an inch at a time, so that when he finally got to her cunt, it was quivering in anticipation.
But she hadn't been prepared for what he did to her.
It wasn't that he did anything so bizarre. He was really kind of conventional in an enlightened sort of way.
But he did what he did so well!
And he was willing to keep it up for hours, if she acted like she was getting off on it.
Usually, she got off on it quite a bit.
That first night he'd taken an entire hour to bring her to the edge of orgasm.
He started out by simply letting his tongue flick across her clit.
Each time it was as though he'd fired a tiny dart with an exploding tip directly into the center of her cunt.
Her body rose in its heat, a steadily mounting inner flame that the heat on her skin could only hint at.
She continued to finger herself as she thought of David's perfect touch, the overwhelming way that he would bring her right up to the fine edge of orgasm, let her even spill over just a bit but always, gently, pull her back, keeping this up for another hour until her mind had gone numb and she was simply a feeling body, a being that craved sensation and nothing more.
And when she finally was allowed to come, she was forced to endure the gut wrenching spasms for what felt like another. In face, one night he'd actually timed her, and she had orgasmed constant, in an unbroken chain for over fifty minutes before collapsing in a dead heap.
David.
She would see him tonight. He would tell her if the trip to the islands was still on.
She hoped it was.
If it wasn't she'd have his balls up his ass.
CHAPTER TWO
Sheila looked lovingly at her reflection in the mirror. Her body was flawless. It was obvious.
She'd never found anyone to disagree with her.
In college, she'd never even had a man break off an affair with her. That was as it should be, as far as she was concerned.
It gave her a certain freedom, a flexibility of choice.
It also gave her power.
Power that flowed out from her flawless body. It was an instrument of manipulation.
Men would do anything for it, she'd learned that many times over by now.
She assumed she would learn it again tonight.
But how to get there. Whether or not to be driven in, or just call for a cab. She decided that she would let herself be driven into town. It would be easy enough to catch a cab back out later.
"Henry," she spoke into the phone when her family's chauffeur answered, "have the car ready in fifteen minutes would you please. I'll be riding into town tonight."
"Yes Ms. Grant. Will there be anyone else needing transport."
"I don't know, but you won't have to stay for me. I'll either stay over or catch a cab back."
"Very good, Ms. Grant."
Sheila returned to her room to finish dressing. She looked at the deep cleavage her gown revealed. Two rounded rolls poked up in front of her gown. She imagined David's hands on them, ripping her gown from her body. Suddenly, she was quite horny. She hoped David was in a mood to fuck tonight.
The ride into town was uneventful, and she got out at David's hotel.
She watched as Henry drove off with the limousine. She turned and started to cross the street to the lobby entrance of the hotel.
Suddenly two large forms came from the shadows by the curb in a blitz of motion and the roar of an engine.
She screamed. As the two shapes bore down on her, she was certain they would cut her down in the street. Her brain tried to warn her feet, but the damn things simply wouldn't get the message. Her body had shut down.
Then at the last minute, when the front tires were nearly scraping at her thighs, the bikes split apart, each passing beside her.
An arm reached out like a hook. She felt a vise-like grip clamp around her waist, felt a painful thump in the small of her back and all at once her feet were off the ground.
She was being supported by one of the riders all by himself. With a gunning of engines, the two bikes roared down the street so fast, she wasn't even sure if anyone would have seen her even if they had been looking.
They braked to a jarring halt.
She felt herself being slung over the back seat like a sack of apples. As the bikes both took off again, she wrapped her hands around the back of whoever it was driving the horrible thing, closed her eyes, and wondered when she would start to feel scared.
They roared through several turns and before any alarm could have been given, assuming someone had even witness the kidnapping, they roared into a garage filled with motorcycles and several fringe-borderline cases who seemed to be decorations for the bikes.
The door slammed shut with a loud clang.
That's when she started to get scared.
Probably at the very instant the tall slim boy with a long scar running from ear to ear started to walk towards her.
"You Sheila Grant?"
"Who are you, what do you want?" she cried, already starting to lose control. He spat in her face. "You shut up, cunt."
Sheila felt the hot spit dripping down her cheek, and her stomach dropped out of sight.
"What do you want with me?" She knew she was speaking her last words on earth, because obviously they were getting ready to gang rape her and of course life simply wouldn't be worth living after such a catastrophe.
"How come you treat my uncle like shit, huh?"
He slapped her across the face. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play coy with me cunt! You don't know who you're dealing with, do you? Well let me tell you something. You're going to learn real quick."
"I, I, I ... are you Rameriz' nephew."
"Yeah ... my name's Gamal. And your name's mud."
A large fat bearded creature burped and then spoke up.
"So what do you say, we gonna fuck her or what?"
Gamal looked at her with contempt.
"Oh yeah, we're going to fuck her all right. We're going to fuck the everloving shit out of her."
He looked Sheila directly in the eyes. "You got that, cunt?"
"Please, I don't know what you're talking about. I did a very decent thing with your uncle, I'll have you know. It would have been very easy for me to simply have him dismissed. You tell me, who's going to hire a gardener who can't even speak English?"
As she spoke, she became aware of a fierce itching in her cunt.
It was past time for her fucking session she'd been promising herself. She knew all too well what happened to her when she was caught in the grips of an attack of the mad hornies. It's a pathetic sight. Words simply can't describe it.
Things were turning serious. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she knew it better happen quickly. She almost found herself thinking of the idea of all those greasy thugs fucking her and nearly found the idea pleasurable.
"You'd best save it, bitch. We're going to teach you a lesson."
"But don't you understand, he attacked me.
"I said save it, bitch." He slapped her. "You'll regret this, I promise you." He laughed.
"Is that so? Tell me about it while Small Time Charley climbs all over you."
He nodded at the hulk who'd asked the question earlier.
"Go on Charley, have at it."
It was a lot like having a mountain stumble over you.
He hit her like a hurricane, his hands like two shovels scooping up fleshy blobs of tits.
She gasped as he dug his fingers into her. Then he started pulling on each nipple.
"Oh God, stop it, please stop it," she moaned.
He laughed at her.
She cringed when she heard the malice in that voice.
"Why are you doing this to me," she cried.
"You know why, you slutty bitch. You take advantage of my uncle. His honor ruined. He can never face anyone again. You are the cause. You must pay."
Small-Time Charley had a big time prick.
Long too.
Sheila found this out real fast.
Charley, of course didn't pay much attention to preliminaries or anything of the sort. He just whipped out the old dong, rammed it right up into her pussy lips and started to hammer away with his hips.
Old Small Time Charley was a big dude too. Once he got that ass of his to rocking back and forth, along about the middle of a really good fuck, he'd sort of slip into overdrive, I don't know, I had a physics major explain it to me one time ... something about inertia, Newton ... all that can be said was that he'd start to fuck like a demon had hold of his balls. That big ass of his would pack one hell of a wallop once it found its groove and started piling it on.
This, was roughly what Sheila Grant discovered.
She never forgot it either.
A little like fucking a locomotive. Her gown was torn down her front and as Charley fucked her through her torn gown, he held onto her for support by clamping down hard on each one of Sheila's exposed breasts. There was an ample supply of rolling tit-flesh, and he just held on like they were handles.
She began to scream. The realization finally sank into her brain.
This was really happening. She was being raped. She had been kidnapped.
And this cock ... this ungodly cock ... oh, yes, that's ... unbelievable. Oh my god, that's . ... "Oh God," she screamed, "that hurts ... oh god it hurts ... oh, oh...."
She couldn't help herself. That cock was overpowering. It had her paralyzed through the force of its deep thrusts, the jarring collision of hips and pubic hair, the moist mingling of juices....
She leaned her body backwards, pressing her savaged breasts into his hands, which grasped all the more tightly.
She began to moan, and murmurs of approval shimmered through the room.
"Good old Small-Time, he knows his shit."
"Undeniable."
"Lookit the mother-fucker go!"
Sheila would have if she could have, but she couldn't.
She was coming in a fury.
And the last thing she remembered was looking over his shoulder and seeing the rest of them lining up!
All had a look of leering contempt on their faces, all the crazed stare of a hungry animal. Sheila felt her heart skip several beats, sputter and then take off at a fluttering rate. Her head started to ache. She wished she had her momma.
Suddenly she was being hoisted into the air.
She was being handed up to two goons perched atop one of the steel crossbeams that supported the roof.
They grasped her by the wrists and she felt heavy ropes being wrapped around her wrist
Tightly around them, cutting off the circulation to her hands!
Then they let her go. She dropped the few feet of slack the ropes gave her and then with a blinding wrench of her shoulders, she jerked to a sudden halt, arms stretched out like splintered limbs in the wind, body quivering from shock and pain like a dead leaf.
Then they began to lower her, slowly, until her feet, if she reached as far downward as possible with her toes, almost supported her on the floor.
Almost.
Enough to make her keep straining, too far away for her to succeed.
She was furious, as well as scared, and the combination blurred all her thoughts into a simple clear sheet of rage. Pure, brittle rage.
Then, the hands were on her again, grabbing at her swaying breasts, puncturing her pussy like so many small blades, the foul breath coating her face....
Her body was alive with the forced sensations of physical abuse.
Her breasts stung, her cunt shook with sharp blinding flashes of hot searing pain as she felt like the hands pawing at her would tear her like a flimsy sheet of tissue.
"Come on," she heard a lusty rowdy voice say behind her, "someone fuck her in the ass, and someone else fuck her in her pussy!! ! "
"Yeah, yeah!" the cry resounded immediately.
"Go for it," yelled another voice.
Fingers dug between her ass cheeks, she felt the two mounds of flesh being squeezed out of shape as the skin was stretched tight.
Then, the large bulge touching her ass-hole. Right on it!
Pushing in, deeper, deeper, and it hurts, it hurts bad, too much too much--!
"Oh God! stop! stop! God please stop!" Sheila screamed, collapsing onto her own weight, as her arms bent inward at the elbows and her head lolled lazily to one side.
"Aw, she's no fun, she passes out too quick."
"Fuck that shit," said Gamal, bringing a bucket of water from the corner of the garage.
He walked up to her and without a second thought, tossed it right into her face.
Since she really hadn't been totally unconscious, had simply been hoping for a reprieve, the water struck her like a burning wall, so cold did it seem.
It was also .pretty foul smelling, as if it had been stuck back over there in the corner since before the old owners ought it. The stench filled her nostrils. She felt like gagging.
To their credit, so did most of those around her.
"Holy shit, what died?! "
"Lord God, get it the fuck away!"
"Hey, someone go get the hose. We gotta wash this stuff off her. Otherwise, I'm going home. Party's the fuck over!"
All murmured and mumbled in agreement, and stood around aimlessly while the hose was produced, connected and the water pressure discovered to be pitifully low.
"Hey, this sucks, we pay our bill. Why can't they put more water in our pipes!"
"Cause they're in hock up to their ass to bastards like this cunt's old man!" Gamal said, turning on Sheila with a vengeance.
"You people, you bleed the earth dry just to satisfy your own selfish lusts, your own greedy appetites, your own decadent culture. "
"That's not true," blubbered Sheila, losing all pretense of control.
"Ha!" said Gamal, slapping her across her cheek.
"Don't hit me!" she screamed. "Don't lie to me!" he yelled back, striking her again.
She suddenly lashed out at him with her foot, but Gamal was to deft, too swift and light on his feet and he easily danced around her swing.
"Sorry, rich lady, you'll have to be quicker than that to catch Gamal."
Then he stared hard into her eyes.
"I am not the easy target my doddering old fool of an uncle was, am I?"
Sheila said nothing.
"OK, water's flowing."
Gamal looked at her with disgust.
"Hose her down, then do whatever you want to her. As for me, my body won't soil itself."
Then he spat at her feet.
The water, when it hit her, was even colder than the bucket had been, and Sheila felt all her nerves going haywire. Her nipples curled up into tiny shriveled puffs of brown skin and her pubic hair glistened from the water collected in tiny beads along each kinky strand.
Then, the cock was back at her ass-hole again, much more fiercely this time.
At the same time , another cock began to spear her pussy. Dead center, it roared up her cunt hole like a rocket gone spastic.
Deep, deeper, all the way in now, until with a felt Slam-m!! the massive head crashed into the back wall.
She felt the shape of his dick etching itself in sharp relief against the stretched membrane, felt all her tissues being pulled after it, as if in its wake.
And she screamed.
She cast her head back and let out a primal scream of fear and pain and rage.
Every fibre in her body contorted in the blind outpouring of energy.
Her face was red, her eyes curled up into the top of her head.
Each muscle stood out with perfect definition, as if sculpted.
She shone from sweat, there wasn't a shadow or hollow over her entire surface, simply the smooth slick body of a woman driven to the limits of what she'd thought was her endurance, only to discover terrain never encountered in dreams or daytime fantasies.
Nothing was coherent, because nothing was expected. For some small resisting part of her brain, this all was still obviously impossible and therefore not happening at all. This of course was a decidedly unhealthy attitude to take, particularly in view of the fact that as far as the others were concerned, it was indeed happening and was actually getting to be pretty good fun.
Since they held all the cards, their perception tended to conform with what was going on.
Sheila, not being totally stupid or inexperienced was rapidly being drawn to this view, meaning only that instead of being helpless from oblivion, she would now be helpless from her panic.
In and out went the cock in her cunt, answered by the cock in her ass-hole doing exactly the same thing.
Ripping and tearing at her tight dry skin, each cock felt like it was stretching her to unimaginable lengths, that her skin would become as loose and billowing as a sail with no wind.
But no, it was the tightness of her pussy and her ass-hole that in turn caused such pain.
And it was blinding her.
"Stop it! I can't take it. It hurts too much! Please stop!! ! "
"What's the matter lady, didn't we get you worked up enough? You too dry or something?"
"Yes, please stop."
"Hey guys, all she needs is to be greased up some. Frank, don't we have some grease laying around."
"Ought to," responded a tall toothless wonder who looked amazed just to find himself still alive, "I just finished using some on my bike this morning."
"Sounds like just what was called for. Go fetch it, would you?"
Frank lumbered off to the shelf along the far wall of the garage, came back a few minutes later with a filthy looking can with large black gobs of some kind of goop hanging off the rim.
"Step aside boys, we gotta do a little lube job on this piece of equipment here, if you know what I mean."
They all laughed.
Sheila watched in mute horror while Frank stirred up the thick stuff in the can, then pulled out the end of the stick and a fair portion of the stuff inside along with it.
"OK, honey, spread 'em wide, we gotta prevent piston wear," he smirked and they all laughed at her again.
"O!" she cried and this time, the intended victim wasn't a fleet footed acrobat, he was a stumbling dolt and before poor Frank had an idea it was coming, the heel of her foot buried itself seven full inches into his groin. If Frank had been a balloon, sticking a pin into him wouldn't have destroyed him any faster, or with any more efficiency.
The man's face went white almost at once, about the same time all his limbs started to wave like sticks at the bottom of a pond.
Then he just sort of seemed to turn into smoke and mist, like his body just didn't have any shape any more.
He was out of it.
Gamal, of course was furious, but before he could lay his hands on her, the side door to the garage crashed open and in walked three swarthy creatures, although they were dressed far more elegantly than the animals who held her captive.
"All right, all right, what the fuck's going on?"
Gamal, as well as the others jumped back and stood with respect. No one spoke, except Gamal, who spent a good while beforehand clearing his throat
"Mr. Sanders," he sputtered, "what brings you down here tonight?"
The man called Sanders approached, and Sheila thought she actually saw the young punk flinch at each step.
"Tell me kid, what happened to the heist that went down Sunday."
"What do you mean, Mr. Sanders?"
Gamal was sweating bullets. There were nervous looks among the other bikers.
"I mean, like there was a couple more items in that haul than you turned over to me, am I right or am I just guessing?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, honest I don't Mr. Sanders."
Sanders had a strange accent, sort of a cross between German and a thicker more Slavic tongue. It was hard to actually place him, but Sheila was convinced that Sanders couldn't possibly be his real name.
"You don't? Well kid, that's good. I'm real glad to hear that. Because if you're lying, I'll cut your throat. I'll do so it takes you all night to bleed to death. Do I make myself clear?"
Then he looked at the assembly looking on in horror.
"And if I find out that any of you clowns maybe knew something and kept your mouths shut ... " and then he paused for dramatic effect, letting the moment linger as he calmly met the eyes of each person in the room.
Then he finished his sentence. "...I'll make you eat your balls."
Then he laughed.
It was a laugh that started slow, then picked up steam until it had him convulsed in it. Then he stopped , instantly, as if a separate piece of film spliced on.
By this time, he had the entire room utterly in his control. It was then that he bothered to notice Sheila.
"Another one of your toys?" he asked, contempt dripping from every word.
"Uh, look, Mr. Sanders, we weren't hurting her or anything. She sort of pissed us off and we was just teaching her a lesson."
Sanders walked over and examined the grease can laying next to Frank's still inert form.
"What were you going to do with this?" Then he looked at Frank.
"And what did you do to him?" He looked at Sheila. "Or did she do it?" No one answered.
"Pretty fucking good boys. What are you saying, that I hire you idiots for muscle and a naked scared shitless broad who's tied up for Christ's sake! can render one of your soldiers utterly senseless? Is that what this scene is supposed to suggest. Because let me tell you, it that's what it does suggest, it also suggests a lot more. You clowns aren't worth the trouble. You fucking aren't worth the trouble."
Frank stirred then, managed to sit up and start to babble hopelessly incoherent gibberish.
Sanders went livid.
"Aw, shut the fuck up, you stupid geek," and he kicked him squarely in the face. Frank was down for the count.
Then he turned back on the crowd.
"That's it! You guys have done it!"
He turned to the door.
"Jimmy!! " he yelled.
A large hulk with a faintly human shape forced his way through the door.
"Wachoo wan, Mr. Sanners?" he said, sounding like he'd eaten marbles for breakfast and gotten several stuck in his teeth.
"Bring in your boys."
He looked around.
"We've got some cleaning to do."
At that the bikers all broke into frantic pleas, falling on their knees, completely different than the crazed fools who'd torn Sheila apart only a half hour earlier.
"Cut it!! "
Sanders silenced them with a wave of his hand.
"Spike, tell 'em about Sunday."
Spike, a bullet headed man with no hair (Sheila figured the name 'Spike' in fact referred to the shape of his head.), stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"In the insurance claim filed this morning by the occupants of the town house in question, there was described therein, A): One box of jewelry, cedar, with lock, which didn't work.
B): One leather pouch of unknown worth, with various papers, all worthless, and in addition, the sum in cash of Five hundred dollars."
Spike smiled and stepped back.
Sanders regarded him with awe.
"Very good Spike. You sounded real official."
"Thanks Mr. Sanders, I try my best." Sanders went over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Spike, I know you do. Keep it up."
Then he turned back to The bikers.
"You worms, on the other hand, have just signed up for the entire course, and the time is now to hand in your assignments. Come on. SPEAK!! ! "
"Look, Mr. Sanders, we was going to tell you about it, honestly we was," started up Small Time Charley, but again Sanders shut him up with a wave of his hand.
"I don't want to hear it."
By this time, Jimmy had returned with his henchmen, and they all looked grim.
And excited.
It sickened Sheila to think that her rescue would be at the hands of even worse filth and scum, but at least they didn't seem interested in destroying her.
Yet.
The bike gang was begging for mercy as if with one voice.
"You blew it! That's all. Hey, Lennie, cut her down will you, find a blanket or something to throw around her, she'll catch a cold or something."
Then he looked around the garage.
"When you're through," he said to Jimmy."
"torch it."
Jimmy nodded.
The bikers were hysterical now.
More and more of Jimmy's assistants had come in and all exits had been effectively sealed off. As more and more of the frantic youths tried to break out of the garage, either though a door or by breaking through the windows, they were simply caught like fish in a net and tossed back into the center of the floor.
"Don't make any more noise than you have to," Sanders told Jimmy, and then and with a terse movement of his hand, they were signaled out.
The door closed, and Sheila shuddered to think of what was about to take place. Sanders looked at her.
"Well doll, what's a sweet girl like you doing hanging around a dive like this?"
He waited a second and then burst out into violent peals of laughter.
"Hey," he said, suddenly angry that no one picked up on his laughter, "that was a joke! Get it?! ! "
They must have, because everyone started to laugh.
"That's better." Then he looked at Sheila. "You gotta tell these clowns everything, you know that? You fucking have to take 'em by the hand and tell 'em when to crap, even."
Then he gave Sheila a swift pat on the ass and led her into the waiting automobile.
All Sheila could see was a long dark shape, but it seemed to extend away in front of her for miles.
When she got inside, her original impression was enhanced. It was almost a small room on wheels. There was a bar, television, table in the middle and two extremely comfortable couch-like seats on either side.
"Some classy car, huh?" Saunders said with a wide expansive gesture.
Sheila managed a small grin. She had to admit that she was impressed.
"So look, too bad about that gig back there, huh? Look, I feel just as responsible as those scum back there should feel. And probably do, along about now ... " he said with a pleased look on his face as he contemplated the carnage.
"Let me tell you, I don't know who you work for, but the guys I got running my ladies don't let that kind of shit go on. They screen the John real hard, you know what I mean? Hey, sometimes someone get out of hand, wants a little special treatment, but we make sure everything's up front before we let that shit go on, you understand what I'm saying? This shit wouldn't never have been allowed to take place."
Sheila was horrified. This hood actually thought she was a prostitute! The nerve!
"How dare you accuse me of such a terrible thing?" she demanded. "I was forcibly abducted, and there are people looking for me right now! If you don't let me go immediately, there will be lots of trouble!! "
"You kidding? You ain't a worker, you know?"
"No, I am not a worker, as you so charmingly phrase it."
"No shit? Damn, I was going to get you to blow me."
Then he exploded into another gust of violent laughing spasms, and Sheila managed a small smile acknowledging the joke.
Some joke! She couldn't believe this turn of events. It was staggering. What must David be wondering now? Had he called the police, or simply assumed she's stood him up? She hoped not. It had been quite some time since she'd done that, and she hoped that he would think this abnormal instead of typical.
"So look, what'd those clowns have you strung up there for?"
"One of them says I mistreated his uncle."
"So, did you?"
"I most certainly did not! The man attacked me in an ignorant frenzy of lust."
"Whose uncle?"
"The one they called Gamal."
"You're kidding? What the fuck was his uncle doing somewhere where he could try to rape you?"
"He works for my family. He's our gardener."
Sanders looked at her without expression. "So that must mean ... you must be Sheila Grant."
It frightened her to think that he knew exactly who she was. Did that mean that their gardener had been spying for this man's organization? Impossible. The man couldn't even write his own name. Nonsense. She wouldn't even consider it.
"How did you know who I was?"
"Aw come on. I like to know who's working for me, you understand. One of my boys tells me his uncle works for a rich former state senator, I make it a point of keeping in touch.
So, maybe your old man doesn't leave a lot of shit in his garbage, you never know."
She was shocked. Mostly, that he was telling her this in the first place.
Unless ... unless he wasn't worried about her revealing any of what she'd seen! And why wouldn't he be worried about that?
Because they were going to do away with her, that's why!!
Her blood froze, her breath quickened.
"Please let me go," she begged.
"Shut up. I gotta figure out what I'm going to do with you. I shoulda left you in the garage. You'd be out of my hair now."
He pondered for a moment.
"I'll tell you what. Come on over here and fuck me, I'll call it even for the night. How's that sound?"
"What?! ! ! "
"Hey toots, don't go getting your back up with me, I don't give a shit who your daddy is, you got that. And as far as you telling anyone about this, I got an alibi for any state in the union and several foreign countries besides, should I feel it necessary to call them up. Do I make myself clear? Are you reading me?"
She was.
He reached for the dirty blanket one of his men had found at the garage, tugged harshly on one corner and tore the material from her body. She was of course, still totally naked, with grease stains over her breasts and in her thighs where the bikers had grabbed her. She still had a faintly disgusting odor from the bucket of stagnant water that they'd flung on her, but none of that seemed to bother Sanders.
He just grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her right over the small table in the center of the space between them.
"Come here, honey, we've got things to discuss."
She started to struggle, but in vain
"Come on, cut it out, you're just going to tire yourself out doing that. Now cooperate, I'll let you back on the streets tonight. Course, you'll have to get home by yourself, but I think you'll be able to figure out something. You seem like a smart lady."
Then he laughed again, clamped his hand over her tit and pulled it towards him.
He opened his mouth and as she crawled over the table to follow his insistent tugging at her nipple, he stuffed it into his mouth and bit down on it.
She cried out as his teeth sank deeply into the brown skin.
"Hey, I like that," he laughed, slapping her hard on her thigh.
He bit into her again, and again she screamed.
"Yeah! Yahooo, ride 'em cowboy!! "
She was squirming in his grip, trying to wiggle free. But he was too strong and even seemed to hold her all the more tightly as she fought him.
"Look honey, you really are making this difficult for both of us, so just ... " he reached between her legs as he spoke to her, "quit moving around quite as much and maybe ... " he pulled hard on her soft patch of pubic hair, "things might get a little better for you."
It hurt, bad enough that she actually did stop fighting him.
"Please leave me alone. Don't you understand, I wasn't even supposed to be there. Why won't you let me go."
"Wait a minute. Don't go giving me that crap. Hegel says history is unfolding exactly as it should, and if it's good enough for Hegel, it's good enough for me."
"Yes," she groaned, as he slammed his fist against her clitoris, "but doesn't ultimate responsibility for your actions rest with each individual?"
"True," he agreed, pinching a nipple and biting on the other, " but that's ignoring the element of random chance, the static that creeps into any medium if it's allowed to stand long enough."
She reached for his dick, trying to get a good enough hold to pull the damn thing right out from between his legs, but he clamped his hand around her arm. She was amazed at his strength.
"But how can you be forcing this against my will?" she asked, still stunned that all this was happening. "Doesn't the integrity of the individual have any meaning for you?"
"Sure, but only inasmuch as it contributes to the greater good."
"You call this the greater good?"
"Damn straight. My good's greater than your good, my good's greater than yours ... " he began to sing in a squeaky voice, mimicking the kid in the old dog food commercial.
"That's your problem," she said, trying to pull his fingers out of her cunt.
"By forcing life to reflect artifice, you render all inherent values equal to false constructs. There's no chance to choose, because there's nothing to distinguish.
By forcing life to reflect artifice, you render all inherent values equal to artificial constructs. Don't you see, you eliminate the possibility of choice because there's nothing left to distinguish one from the other."
That seemed to get to him
"So what you're saying, is that I've negated the already negative, and therefore am speaking gibberish."
"Well, not exactly, but you've got the right idea."
"No, I've got a tit. Your tit. And I'm gonna suck on it." Which he did.
Sheila had given up hope by this time. She knew that there was no way she was going to avoid getting raped by this thug, so she figured, why resist? Just let go, and take whatever fate had in store for her.
He must have felt her relax, because some of the light left his eyes.
"Hey, come on, why'd you quit fighting."
She opened her eyes.
"You sound disappointed."
"Well ... yeah, I am, kind of."
"But you've won. I quit. I give up. I'm yours. Take me."
"What do you mean? Just like that?"
"I'm yours. You've subdued me. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Well, yeah ... you sure you couldn't stay just a little pissed, you know, put up just a little fight"
"But there's no fight left in me. You've taken all my strength to resist away. You've conquered. So take me."
She stretched herself out across his lap, breasts arched upwards towards his mouth, invitingly offering her nipples as if a bowl of fresh fruit.
But Sanders looked uncomfortable.
"Look, this ain't what I had in mind. Come on, no fair changing the rules in the middle of the game."
"It's not even my game!! ! "
She was incredulous.
"I didn't ask to play this miserable little role. It was forced on me by your goons and you've kept it up. I'm just a frightened little girl and I want my momma!"
"Only one way to get back home honey, and it doesn't involve clicking the heels on your ruby-red slippers."
He laughed again.
"I'll tell you what it involves," he said when he'd calmed back down.
"What?" she asked him.
"It involved clicking your ruby-red clit against my tongue! HA!"
And then he dove into her.
"Bombs away," he cried and then unleashed a fury of thrusts at her, pretending to be sword fighting with her clitoris.
"HA! Take that, and that and that and that!! "
"You're insane, do you know that? You're out of your mind."
"Hey look, if you did what I do for a living, you'd need to let off a little steam too."
He plunged back into her pussy.
"Did you really have all those members of that gang wiped out."
"Huh? Nah! Of course not. What do you think I am, a sadist? No, I was serious. They'll be scrubbing that place down till morning."
He waited a second.
"HA-HA!! " And then he slapped her on her ass.
"Come on, baby, quite wasting my time. We've been driving around in circles so long the gas tank's almost empty. Now are you going to put out for me, or do I have to do something drastic like drive off the World Trade Center?"
She just gave him a look.
"Hey, don't kid yourself, if anyone could do it, my driver could. He's the best. But only 'cause I can afford it."
"Why won't you just let me go?"
"Because I'm in love with your tits."
He reached out and grabbed hold of both of them.
"Ummmmm, they feel great. They make me feel like a child again."
"What does that make me, your mother."
"No, it makes you a piece of ass. Spread 'em."
She was tired. Hadn't she already given in once, and found him unable to....
Was that it! Could he only get it up if he was making her mad, or overcoming her struggles.
She tried out her theory by letting out a large yawn, examining her nails and then sighing.
"Aw, now what?! "
"Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Weren't you going to ... uh, do it?"
He started to look frantic.
"What's this all about now. You really get on my nerves, you know that?"
"What's the matter? Can't the big man get it up unless the little girl's all hot and fighting?"
She reached for his cock and found it flaccid as a flat tire.
"Well, would you feel that. Is this, this ... you were going to rape me with this?"
She started to laugh. He didn't seem to get the joke.
"Now look, don't you go pissing me off. I may be cracked, but I got a lot of muscle, so don't go fucking with the balance, all right?"
"What balance," she laughed, pointing at his cock and really rubbing it on thick.
"Now you done it. Now you done it. Now you done pissed me off."
She suddenly jerked hard on his cock.
"You want this in me?" she said with as mean a sound as she could muster.
"Yes," he said in a small squeak of a voice, his eyes wide in shock at this sudden attack of assertiveness.
She began to squeeze very hard on it, letting her hand grip for about a second, then release the tension, squeeze again and release, squeeze, release, for enough times that she was sure she had his attention.
"You want to fuck me with this, don't you? Well, you won't get it in me unless you can get it up, will you? And you don't seem able to get it up on your own, do you? So you need me, don't you? You're damn right you need me."
She kept using her grip on his cock for punctuation at the end of each phrase, and by the time she'd finished talking, she felt the thing start to thicken and stiffen.
"Well, I guess there's life after-all. I thought for sure that you'd already gone to sleep but just didn't know it yet."
"Now you stop with that kind of talk. I can perform just as well today as I could when I was a man of twenty."
"Gee, I guess that means you didn't get laid very much, huh?"
All of a sudden, she felt like the same taunting powerful woman who had rendered her gardener mindless in the day. She knew that she had this man by the balls, and as she stroked his cock, she planned her next move. He would be a slobbering slave in just a matter of a minute or so more of just what she was doing now. But the timing had to be perfect....
"You like this, don't you," she asked, letting her eyes look as dreamy as she could.
"Yeah ... I don't get it. What gives with you?"
"I just got pissed that you could only get hard Dy overcoming a woman. I wanted you to see that you could do it with a strong woman too."
"Yeah ... well, the point's been taken, let me assure you."
He was throbbing now. So stiff that you could have split a rail with it.
They were coming up on an intersection, but through the dark tinted windows, she couldn't even tell which one. No matter, there were throngs of people all around.
She knew the doors were locked, but the switch seemed to be the standard pull up/push down type that all cars had. She wait. The car slowed.
Sanders was leaning against his seat, his eyes closed, starting to breathe heavier. She saw small beads of jism forming at the hole in the center of the head of his prick. She even placed a fingertip on it, spreading the clear liquid all over the sensitive surface.
He groaned, sucked in his breath and raised his hips higher.
But the car had stopped. Now was the time. Right ... NOW!! !
She slammed her fist right down onto the limp sac and felt his two soft orbs squeeze out of shape beneath the force of her blow.
He breath was forced out of his lungs in a single blast. His cheeks puffed out, his eyes first crossed and then drifted totally .out of focus, one looking off to the left, the other wandering down to his feet.
His face was frozen, and as his body swung backwards, his expression never changed. He fell against the back of the seat, but by this time, Sheila was already springing to further action, unlocking the door, and completely oblivious of the fact that she was naked, she plunged out into the thick of the crowds.
"Help me, help me," she screamed, "that man was trying to kidnap me and rape me."
Sanders was plainly visible in the back seat through the opened door, and a few curious onlookers peeked inside. He didn't seem too threatening in his present state, but Sheila wasn't sticking around to offer any explanations. She ran through the people, screaming "help me, help me, help me!! " and finally she ran headlong into a very large police man.
"Hang on there, little lady, just where do you think you'll be going dressed as you are."
She simply collapsed into hysterical sobs.
The cop took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders and called for help from his assistants.
"Now you just take it easy little lady, and we'll have you fixed up in no time."
He spoke the words soothingly, but he was flashing knowing glances to the three officers who had answered his call.
"Uh, right, right, uh, ma'am. We'll have you all fixed up in no time."
"This is Officer NO. 5674. I'll be signing out for awhile. I'm going to investigate a call."
All of them smirking, they led her away into a patrol car.
CHAPTER THREE
"Is anyone coming?"
Officer Muldoon looked over his shoulder, out the back window.
"No, I don't think so. That's just the glare from the highway."
Sheila was lying beneath both officers, while the third waited in the front seat.
"Come on Gunther, hurry up."
"Francis, will you please quit rushing me?
Something like this takes time."
He gave a roll of his eyebrows, indicating an imminent collision with Nirvana and dove back bet wet n her legs.
Sheila felt his tongue rolling over her clitoris like it belonged to a large sheepdog. He simply let it flow over her pussy, with no apparent knowledge of what it was he was supposed to be doing. It didn't feel very good, she knew that.
In fact, this whole evening, which had started out in a wave of anticipation over David, had sort of turned out to be rather frustrating, sexually speaking.
It was one thing to be raped.
It was quite another to be raped badly.
And that seemed to be all she'd managed. It wasn't even good enough to work her way through a simply fantasy. No, these clowns were wash outs, psychologically speaking. She'd have to go back to her vibrator and her own fertile imagination if she ever got back home.
"Come on, you guys, what's taking you so long. Christ! I want my turn. I was the one who found her after-all."
"Yeah, but it was our patrol car that we're using, right?"
At that moment, the radio crackled to life. "Please report status. Repeat, please report status. Car fifty-four, please respond. Car fifty-four, where are you?"
"Oh, hell, they're always asking us that," said Muldoon.
"Well, that's cause you guys got a reputation. Toody, hurry up there, I want my turn."
"Calm down Sarge, you'll get your turn."
Muldoon was giving some hokey story into the radio to keep the dispatcher quiet.
"Yeah, OK, maybe we can work something out. Look, we can't drive right up to the station house with her, can we?"
The dispatcher was getting pissed.
"Car fifty-four, let it be known that in this outfit, those that has, shares with those that hasn't. You dig. Now let's organize this little party."
Muldoon turned to Sheila.
"How you feeling, sugar? You up to having some more company over?"
Sheila groaned.
"Please let me go. I just needed some help. Gosh, if you can't count on the force even, who can you trust."
Muldoon and Toody looked at each other. Toody shrugged.
"Gee, beats me. Who can you trust anymore."
"Maybe the Boy Scouts," said Muldoon.
"Yeah," agreed Toody with sudden enthusiasm. "We'll see if we can turn you over to a troop of horny Boy Scouts when we're done with you."
"You bastards," she told them.
"Now, that's not nice," said Muldoon, shoving his cock up her cunt.
"Neither is that," she replied.
"You ought to be on my side. Feels pretty damn slick, you want to know the truth."
"Francis! Gunther! One of you clowns hurry up. They're gonna miss me on my beat."
"Oh, all right, if all you're going to do is whine."
Francis pulled his prick out of Sheila and tucked it back into his starched and pressed regulation trousers. As he did so, he caught it in his zipper.
"Ouch!" he said.
"What happened, she bite you?" asked the sergeant.
"No, I caught my cock in my zipper."
"Well, at least you knew where it was supposed to go," said the sergeant.
"Hey, lay off Sarge. You're getting a free piece of ass from us. You know the regs. We didn't have to share her with you."
"You're full of shit! I found her."
"Our car. It's a question of territory."
"No, it's a question of possession."
"Territory."
"Possession."
"Will one of you fuck this girl before she decides to go looking for it elsewhere?"
Toody was a surprised by his outburst as were the rest.
Sheila, meanwhile, was going to sleep. She let out a large sigh.
"What's this. Are you bored, my dear," asked Muldoon.
"Well, if this is supposed to be a gang-bang, you've got a lot to learn."
They looked at each other.
"What do you mean?"
"Yeah, we do this all the time."
"Really? You sure don't act like it."
"Why not? What are we doing wrong?"
"Well, for one thing, you're not raping me. I'd like a little action if I going to be degraded and humiliated by all this. Maybe just a little orgasm. Come on, what do you say?"
"Well now wait a minute. That's not correct. I distinctly remember achieving penetration. That means that legally, you've been raped."
"Well big deal. You didn't come, did you?"
"Well, no, I guess I didn't."
"So what's the point? They won't be able to prove anything, will they?"
Muldoon scratched his head and looked at Toody.
"Gosh, she's got a point."
"Well, I guess I'll have to go back and do the job over, huh?"
"Oh, for the love of God, I'll never get my turn," yelled the Sergeant.
"Come on, give the sergeant a turn," suggested Sheila. "Maybe he'll know how it's done."
"I should hope I know how it's done, little lady," the sergeant huffed as he climbed over the seat.
"I've sired fifteen of me own, and I could still do it today if the missus hadn't had her plumbing removed. Here lads, stand aside."
He knelt over her and as he lowered his regulation blue starched and pressed trousers, Sheila couldn't help gasping in amazement.
There, between his legs, was one of the largest cocks she'd ever seen. And it was solid. like iron.
She reached out to touch it. She'd never seen anything like it and wanted to assure herself that it really existed.
"I can't believe this," she said.
"Well darling, believe it because I'm gonna fill you with the spirit, and if you aren't a believer after I'm through, it'll be because you're dead."
He rammed it up her and she screamed, "I believe, I believe!"
"Say it loud, darling!! "
"I believe, I believe!"
"That's the way darling, sing it. Come on, Sing it loud."
"I'm a believer, I'm a believer!! ! "
"That's the spirit, absolutely!! ! "
He was fucking her eyes out.
Each throbbing plunge of his rod shook her body like a sheet drying on the line.
"Oh my God! It's so big. Sooooo big."
Muldoon and Toody looked at each other.
"She-likes it."
"So go figure. '
The radio crackled to life again.
"Car fifty-four, there's a traffic jam in Harlem and Brooklyn's broken out in fights. Where the fuck are you?! ! ! "
"Forget it!" yelled Muldoon into the microphone.
"Yeah," yelled Toody after him. "That show was cancelled years ago. You can use that crap on us anymore."
"So fuck off, will you," suggested Muldoon, switching off the radio all together.
Meanwhile, Sheila was finally getting raped properly. Of course, she didn't like that either, but at least everyone was playing according to rules that she understood and she could return to the role she'd started out with, which was the spoiled little rich girl.
Ah, but she'd already been transformed.
The spoiled little girl has already known the fear of losing her life. She found it far more intense than the fear of losing her cherry, which, in any event, she'd already lost long before her abduction. Whatever, it had turned her brain just a few degrees out of whack. She felt the thick cock of Sergeant O'Reiley plowing in and out of her juicy cunt, and felt her body start to come, and again became confused. What was expected of her here? She couldn't have said herself, because she was no longer in control. But then, where were the controllers? These poor parodies of police? Why, they couldn't even get their eras on straight.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!! ! "
"Way to go, Sarge," said Toody, patting him on the back.
"An inspiration to us all," said Muldoon, shaking his hand.
"Mmmmmmmmmm ... " said Sheila dreamily.
"Reach in me coat pocket," the sergeant instructed Muldoon. "I need me pills."
"Are you all right, Sarge?"
"Sure. I always turn chalk gray like this. Will you please hand me my pills."
They did and he quickly ate seven.
"Gee, Sarge, do you think that's good for you?"
"Yeah, what are they? Nitro glycerine?"
"No, they're speed. Perks me right up." maybe take you down to the station house, give the rest of they guys a thrill."
"Fuck them!" said Muldoon.
"Yeah," responded Toody. "Let them get their own show."
"I'm going to report you, you know," she threatened.
"So what. We've been cancelled for so long, they'll never trace us."
"Really," and then they both started to laugh.
"What are you two fools talking about?" asked Sergeant O'Reiley.
"Nevermind Sarge, they didn't even have television when you were around."
He scratched his head and then looked back at the quivering quim that was opened out before him.
"Well, you two can babble as much as you want, I'm going to take your helpings if you don't mind."
With that, he stuck his throbbing shaft back into her wet juicy pink slit and with violent in and out motions, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, he forced her to come again.
"Oh God!! I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm coming."
Deeper and deeper. Harder and harder, he fucked her till she came.
In and out, out and in, he kept fucking her till she came again.
Then, he pulled his cock out of her pussy and placed the swollen head against the tight puckered ring of muscle forming her ass-hole.
"Guess I'd better check the back door, what do you fellows say?"
"Sounds like a good idea to me, Sarge. You gotta cover all bases."
He pushed hard and Sheila felt her muscles pulling apart.
Inside her, she felt the muscles all through her abdomen starting to contract at each one of his thrusts, tighter and tighter until her whole body felt like a single clenched fist.
"Oh God, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!! ! "
Deeper and deeper, harder and harder, he fucked her in her ass-hole till she came again and again and again.
Her cunt juice was all over her thighs and the sergeant's dick.
She could smell the odors of her body, brought out by fucking and she was aroused by it.
"Fuck me some more." With a tired sigh, and a few more pills, the Sergeant obliged.
Back into her pussy again.
Deeper and deeper, harder and harder, he fucked her cunt, feeling his cock sliding through the pink wet membranes of dripping juicy pussy meat.
In and out, harder and harder, with Muldoon and Toody clapping in rhythm now, and chanting 'GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!' in time with the rising and falling of his hips as he powered the piston of flesh through her thin cunt hole. It stretched a little, and then it stretched some more, and then it stretched even more.
In and out, in and out.
Harder and harder.
Deeper and deeper, until every fibre of her pussy had been twisted and stretched out of shape.
"Oh God! I'm coming, I'm coming, I feel it, I feel it, I'm coming I'm coming, fuck me fuck me fuck me!! ! "
"Hang on, darling, I'm going as hard as I can."
Toody looked at Muldoon. "Sarge is gonna pop his heart."
"Sure looks like it."
"Guess one of us should be in line for a promotion. ' "Yep."
They looked at each other again, Toody winked broadly, and then they both started clapping and chanting 'GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!
GO! GO!' again, driving him faster and faster.
But from where Sheila was, which was underneath him with her legs splayed to either side, all they succeeded in doing was to make her come even harder.
She was getting tired of saying it, but that seemed to be all there was to say, since each time he fucked her, it was about the same.
Deeper and deeper.
Harder and harder.
In and out, in and out.
Maybe if he could come up with a variation or two, she'd add some embellishments on her orgasm. Otherwise, it suited her just fine.
Real good tightening of muscles, the sudden intake of breath, leading up to one massive gasp which she held while her brain went into a total tilt as if a pin-ball machine someone shook near the back wall.
And her cunt!
like a fire.
With a fire hose that only fanned the flames. In and out.
He was actually feeling like his cock was swelling more and more inside her.
Tighter and tighter, the walls of her pussy enclosed the driving shaft of stiff flesh until they became fused, as one.
Harder and harder.
Her breasts quivered and shook from each thrust, rolled around on her body like party balloons.
Deeper and deeper.
The swollen head of his prick crashed against the back walls of her cunt, and then as he shifted position to get a different angle, it crashed into the side walls, and one time, he slipped out of her hole completely and jammed the thing right into the side of her cunt hole, causing her great pain.
"Oh my God, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!! "Is that all she does?"
Toody was getting bored. He still hadn't had a chance to fuck her and they were running out of time.
"Why don't you see if she gives head" suggested Muldoon.
So he crawled around the tangled bodies and finally had his cock right at her mouth.
"Oh God, I'm coming, I'm coming. I'm coming!! ! " she was still screaming.
"Hurry up, stick it in," said Muldoon. "I'm getting tired of hearing that. It's like a broken record."
Toody stuck his cock into her mouth and immediately her tongue and lips were all over it.
"Mphx flgb braxft pflut yublsh" she mumbled through the fleshy shaft.
"That's better." said Muldoon.
"Hey, it feels real good when she screams and my cock's inside her mouth," said Toody.
"Well, it's supposed to feel good, you jackass."
"Oo! Ooo!! Oooo!! ! I think I'm coming. I am. I am coming!! " .
Toody shot a huge load of juicy white cum all over Sheila's face. The stuff splattered over her cheek and dripped down into her mouth.
"Come on, lick it all up," said Gunther.
Sheila did. It tasted ... interesting. Sort of delicate, with a hint of a bite.
"Come Francis, the Sarge looked like he'll have her cunt tied up for the next two weeks. Why don't you try out her mouth."
"I think you're right, Gunther."
Muldoon crawled up to where Sheila's head was pressed against the back door of the car.
"You ready for this, honey? You're the one who was talking about not getting the proper treatment."
"Uh, I think you boys have taken care of that with no problems."
Muldoon filled her mouth.
She started to chew on the head, letting her teeth scrape over the whole length of the hard rod. She sucked on it, she licked it, she nibbled it, and she chewed on it.
And he responded by unloading another huge load of juicy white thick cum all over her mouth and face.
There was a huge glob of it the landed on her forehead and it slowly slithered down right into her eye.
She reached up and wiped it away, and was about to rub the gunk into the seat of the patrol car, but Muldoon cautioned her.
"Uh-uh. You don't want to do that. Defacing public property. That'll get you a citation for sure."
"Oh, I'm sorry officer, I forgot."
"That's OK. Just as long as you realize it. Now, where does it really go?"
"Right where it belongs, officer. In my mouth."
She stuck her fingers with the heavy white glob stuck to them right inside her mouth and let the whole thing drip down her throat.
"Is that better?" she asked.
"It sure is. You're a good citizen, Sheila."
"Well, can I go now?"
"You won't tell on us, will you?"
"Oh no. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"All right. Uh, Sarge. Sarge. Hey, Sarge!"
He stopped fucking her for a second to hear what they had to say.
"I think it's time we got back to work and let the little lady go, don't you?"
"What ... oh, yes. Sure." He seemed to be just a little disoriented. "Certainly. Well darling, I loved it." He shook his head, as if to clear out the cobwebs.
"Gosh, you still don't have any clothes, do you?"
"No. But I guess I'll have to find some, won't I?"
They all looked at her big round breasts bobbing in the light from the street lamp and were all at once seized by another fit of lust.
But they contained themselves, put her out of the car and were gone in a cloud of dust.
Sheila felt like crying. So far, she was no closer to getting back home, and her fortunes seemed to take downward turns every time she did anything.
She looked up.
It was like a vision.
There, across the field, lit in a soft blue light.
The steeple of a church. Of course.
She'd be safe there. She'd find shelter. She'd find someone to comfort her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sheila carefully opened the door and peeked inside.
There were several candles flickering in the shadows at the front of the church and in the dim light she could make out the outline of row after row of empty pews. Organ music played faintly in the distance, as if a soundtrack. She even thought that she might have heard an angelic chorus, but she felt certain she was mistaken about that.
For it was obvious that there was nobody in the church itself. Whoever had lit the candles had gone back into whatever nook or cranny hid him.
She ventured inside. It was warm. It felt comfortable.
She looked around for something to wrap herself in.
Then, up at the front of the church, she saw a heavy white cloth draped over the alter table.
Three silver dishes had been placed in the center. The candles all glittered brilliantly in the polished metal.
She walked with delicate steps. She had no desire to call down the wrath of a jealous God, or any other kind for that matter.
She got to the altar table, saw that she was indeed alone and carefully removed the plates one by one from the table, pulled the cloth off of the altar and started to wrap herself completely about her whole body. The cloth was large enough.
It felt good to have her body covered again.
But then she heard a noise.
"Domini Domini Domini ... " came a small muttering voice, "hear my prayer O Lord ... waste not, want not ... a stitch in time saves nine...."
She hid behind one of the pews, but the voice called to her anyway.
"Come come, my child, I know you're there. Come on, stand up. You've been seen already."
She stood up, a little afraid. How had he seen her?"
He peered at her through Ben Franklin bi-focals.
"Well well, and what have we here? Aren't you the little lost waif now?"
"Well, I've just been trying to get back home, but they took my clothes and then they raped me and ... " her voice broke and she started to cry.
"There there, child, it's all right."
The priest patted her on the head with a very soft touch.
"I'm sure something can be done. Although, you have severely limited your options."
"What do you mean?" she asked through her tears.
"Well, child, you're wearing the holy shroud. It just isn't done. You've desecrated it."
She looked at the cloth wrapped around her body. It just looked to her like an oversized linen napkin.
"This?" she asked. "I just wanted to cover my body."
"And why, might I ask?"
He looked at her with a suddenly severe stare.
"Would you be ashamed of the way the Lord brought you into this world. Never my child, never indeed. Now, do as I say, and perhaps we can fend off the wrath of God before it's too late."
"I'll do anything you say."
"Fine, fine ... " he let his voice trail off as he looked to the heavens for guidance.
"I hear the word. Yes, it's coming to me now. It says, take the shroud from off your shoulders at once."
She let the cloth slip to the floor. Once again she was totally naked, with her large breasts swinging freely in the candlelight and her soft blonde patch of pubic hair softly glowing.
"Yes, that's much more pure. Don't you feel it, child. Do you feel the purity of it?"
There was a fire in his eyes now.
He was coming down to where she was standing.
"Come here, child, and be blessed."
"But father, I haven't sinned."
"Nonsense. You're running naked through the House of God. Four centuries ago you'd have been burned at the stake. We still might arrange it if you're not careful. So don't argue."
"I'm sorry father."
"Now, just listen up. Wait a minute, I'm getting a little more of the word."
He cocked his head as if listening to a radio earphone.
"He says you're supposed to climb up on the table here." said the priest, pointing at the altar from which she'd first removed the shroud.
"Are you sure. Isn't that even more sacred than the shroud."
"Uh, just a minute ... right ... uh-huh ... " he said, as if responding to carefully itemized instructions.
"Gottcha," said the priest, turning to look back at Sheila.
"He says we're gonna save your soul. So hop up!"
He slapped the altar and Sheila had no choice but to obey.
"Fine, fine," said the priest as he gazed at her body. "My, I see we're going to have a lot of soul saving to do here."
He was looking at all the grease stains covering her body.
"Child, what have you been through?"
"I told you, first they kidnapped me, then they chained me up, then they were going to rape me, but I was rescued by someone else who tried to rape me instead and then...."
But the priest held up his hand.
"My child, the Lord isn't interested in your past history. It matters not. Only your present state of mind. And what is your present state of mind?"
"Well, at the moment, I'm a little confused."
"Indeed," he asked, looking at her with amusement.
"Yes. For one thing, what am I doing up here on this altar."
"Beats me," said the priest, "I never thought you'd fall for it."
"Well what are you going to do to me now that I'm here."
The priest just looked at her like she was demented.
"Child, if you don't know, you will soon enough so I think I'll pass on that, if you don't mind."
Without another word, he plunged two fingers into her wet pussy.
"Ooooo! Is that what the voices told you to do, father?"
"Hmmm? Voices? Whazzat ... Oh!! Right. The ... uh, the holy word. Right."
He looked nervous all of a sudden.
"What's the matter, father?" asked Sheila.
"My child, is your soul pure?"
"I try my best, father."
He dug his fingers deeper into her soft wet flesh.
"But what I want to know is, do you have pure thoughts?"
"As pure as I can, father."
"Yes, but sometimes that's not enough. You have to be truly pure, or the magic of the kingdom will be denied to you."
She could see that beneath his white robes, there was a growing protrusion, as if a pole were being raised in the middle of a tent.
"Father, I wonder if you're soul is pure too. Look." she said, pointing at his erection.
"My child, you are not to notice others' weakness of the flesh. We all must succumb at one time or another. I guess tonights the night."
"Well, as time goes by I think more and more people are having problems tonight."
"Really? Perhaps there's a full moon."
"Maybe."
He pulled his robes aside and revealed a large erection. Over the head of his cock was a tiny golden ring.
"What's that, a cock ring?"
"No," he answered sadly, "it's a fallen halo."
"Really? Can I touch it."
"You might as well. It's not doing me any good anymore."
She reached out and picked up the tiny golden ring. His cock was still soft and without really thinking about what she was doing, she slipped it over the head of his dick and pushed it all the way to the base.
"Child!" the priest screamed in horror.
"What's wrong, father?"
"Look!"
He pointed to his cock which was rapidly growing hard as she played with his balls and stroked the shaft.
"You've got it stuck!! "
"What do you mean," she asked innocently, keeping up her stroking motions over the length of the thing.
"My God, child, it'll never come down."
"Really? Nonsense. All you have to do is cut through the ring."
"Oh, child, what have you done? I told you. It's a halo. Nothing known to man'll cut through that. I'll be plagued with this erection till eternity and I'll wear it like a badge till the final trumpet sounds."
"Well, in that case, we'd best turn a bad situation to some good, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, didn't you say it'll never get soft."
"Never. Not for a thousand eternities."
"You have no idea how long I've been looking for you," she said, casting her legs apart.
"It's useless child, nothing will help."
"My point exactly. Why don't you try it out. You might find you like it."
So the fallen priest crawled on top of Sheila and right there on the altar with the whole universe looking on, they made wild love.
His cock was so hard it hurt. But as far as Sheila's cunt was concerned, it was just perfect. She loved not having to worry about being gentle to make sure she didn't force his balls to blow early. She couldn't stand that. Some guys simply couldn't control themselves, but here was a cock that was supported by something unearthly.
And the fucking was as unearthly too.
She went bananas on his cock. Grinding her hips into his pelvis, slamming the lips of her cunt against his groin, rubbing her pubic hair into his, they fucked for hours. She wasn't sure if she actually saw God in the middle of one of her orgasms, but it sure was something she'd never seen before in her life.
He kept plowing into her, hoping that sheer exhaustion would finally make his prick soft. But nothing worked. He just kept getting harder and harder, and kept fucking her deeper and deeper.
She came a hundred times, a thousand times ... she lost count. Her pussy was so enflamed that she felt like it had become detached from her body and was simply cast off into space to glow and burn like a miniature sun.
Each orgasm was like a nuclear bomb going off in her cunt.
Each thrust of his cock was like a missile homing in on its target.
And each moan was like a symphony in her ears. She was becoming used to the idea that she'd been given a new role. Now, all she was meant to do, was to fuck. Not exactly what she'd had in mind a few hours earlier, but at least she was starting to find people who knew how to do it right.
In he plunged. Deeper and deeper into her pussy, tearing the soft wet flesh into shreds.
It only made her come more.
Her breasts were flapping in the spiritual wind and the priest clamped his lips around one of them.
"Ah, you taste so good, so very good."
"Is this saving my soul," she asked.
"Child, it's coming damn close."
That made her feel good. But not as good as his cock was making her feel.
Deeper and deeper.
She couldn't believe how much her pussy was being stretched. But even so, she always managed to find still a larger cock to fuck her, so that they all seemed just as tight.
This one had swollen to elephantine proportions by now.
She felt like a log had been jammed up her.
And still he fucked her, fucked her like the whirlwind itself.
And she was swept up into it, blinded by the pure light of orgasm.
It tore through her body like the Book of Revelation, and the visions she had that night were unlike anything she'd ever had before or would ever have again.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!! ! " she yelled back and they both fucked their way through a magnificent simultaneous orgasm.
The priest looked shocked.
"Child, it's gone. You've gotten rid of it."
Sheila stared in wonder.
"You're right. But what could have happened to the ring?"
"Mother of God, , you're right."
The priest looked at Sheila in a strange way, as if seeing her for the first time.
"Child," he said in a hushed voice heavy with awe, "you melted her right off. Sure as I'm standing here, that's what you went and did."
His eyes gazed to her patch of soft blonde pubic hair and he approached her and got down on his knees as if approaching a sacred altar.
"The power nestled right here between your sweet soft legs, child, it frightens me to think about it."
He brought his face up close to her cunt. His eyes were closed and from the look on his face, Sheila half expected a great wind to strike and blow them both backwards because that's what he looked like he was preparing himself for.
"Father, are you all right."
"Yes my child. I'm just gathering my spirit for a sacred plunge."
He took three deep breaths and then with a mighty "Hallelujah!! ! " he thrust his nose right into the very center of her pink slit.
"Oh!" squealed Sheila as his tongue darted in and out of her cunt hole.
"Child, you're filled with the spirit!"
"I know father!! "
"Do you feel it?"
"I feel it, Father!! ! "
"Tell me you feel it child!! "
"I feel it!"
He jammed three fingers into her spread juicy lips.
"Do you feel that, child."
"I feel it Father!! "
He gave his hand a violent rotating twist at the wrist, churning his buried fingers like an egg beater.
"And how does it feel, child?"
Sheila was overcome, felt her body glowing like a bald light bulb.
"It feel like the very furnace of salvation!! ! "
"Hallelujah!! ! " yelled the priest, his cock hard and throbbing once more.
"I'm coming!! " yelled Sheila.
"Hallelujah!! ! " yelled the priest again.
"Fuck me!! " screamed Sheila.
It was like a caged cougar had suddenly found the gate open just as she was walking past.
The closest thing in her memory to compare with it was the time the bee got in David's crash helmet when he was showing off a new motorcycle. She'd been riding on back.
The priest's force of impact, to say nothing of his grace and subtlety were roughly similar to that first jarring jolt as she hit the ground....
He started to hammer away at her pussy with his cock, but had neglected to line up the head with the hole beneath her slit and so for about seven or eight thrusts, he was smashing his cock against her thighs and into the outer rim of her cunt, which was both painful to Sheila and rather frustrating to the priest.
"I know you're in there somewhere!" he yelled.
"Wait a minute, let me help you," offered Sheila, grasping his cock in her hand.
"Child, are you saying I don't know my own way?"
"But isn't it written, "And Lo, a child shall lead them." ? "
He thought about that for a second, just long enough for Sheila to set up the angle of approach just perfectly, thereby making any further argument stupid. Even he could figure that out.
So in he plunged.
"Oh!" yelped Sheila.
"What's the matter? It's not the wrong hole, is it?"
"No, of course not. Now please, will you just...."
"Because if it's the wrong hole, it's your fault. You stuck me in."
"Please, I told you, it's not the wrong hole. It's a perfectly fine hole. Now please do what you were going to do in the first place."
He couldn't argue with the logic of that and plowed away.
And then immediately let out a mighty shriek.
"YEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWW!! ! ! . "
"What's wrong."
"Child, you're hot."
"I know! Now do something to cool me off."
"No, you don't understand. You melted the ring. You must have. I can't figure out where else it would have gone. That means that the power in the ring is now down there ... " he said, pointing to her quivering pussy.
"What do you mean," she asked, not understanding any of this.
"Don't you see? You must have perverted an eternal force. That's why you want me to do it to you so badly. Oh, this is terrible. What have I done?"
"What are you talking about?"
She was really getting annoyed now. Here he was, a man with a hard cock and there simply wasn't a hotter, juicier pussy around....
Was she really thinking that? Was it possible?
Sheila did a quick mental calculation and realized that although the actual time was a mere matter of hours, the distance she'd covered in terms of mental space was a measure running into the miles, running off into the vanishing distance.
She looked around her. Candles glittered. Stained glass shimmered. The hard cock dangling between her legs quivered.
And she wished she had some clothes to put on as she shivered.
"Please father, I don't know what you're talking about. Can't I go now?"
"But child, don't you feel, there in the mossy grotto?"
"In my what?"
"In your quim, darling. Your quivering quim."
"Oh, you mean my cunt."
"Yes, well, that too."
The instant her focus returned to her pussy, she realized that there really was something new that she felt in there. Something ... hot.
"Father, is that ring really still inside me?"
"I think maybe we'd best check," he said and dug his fingers back up in her.
"Oh, it's amazing, but you keep getting hotter. I fear for you my dear."
He also felt for her. And just plain old felt her. Felt all through that slick wet cave of passionate lust. Dug into her deepest crevices. Felt her pockets of thick juice that constantly churned beneath her surface. An oozing sub element constantly flowing, never settled into a shape, much as her cunt itself was. A soft wet mass of mushy flesh, a steaming heap of raw lusty meat.
"It's gone, child. It's in you. You have it in your veins."
"What do I have?"
"The power. But horribly twisted out of shape, I fear."
"Twisted, how?"
"You will have to seek out release for your poor unfortunate little pussy. I fear the poor thing will heat more and more until it finally just bursts. I doubt there's a man alive who could cool it off now."
"But could you try?"
"Child, I know my limits. I'd be consumed. You can see that. You nearly burnt me as it was. You're much stronger even now."
One thing that she wasn't confused about. That was that this witch doctor was fucking off his nut. Out of focus. No straight lines in sight.
"Father, I think I'm going to go now."
"You can run dear, but you can't hide."
"Thank you father. You're crazy."
"Blessed are the pacemakers, for they shall return the purity of the flesh ... blessed is the flesh, blessed flesh ... " he began babbling, as he stared after her, no longer seeing her though, his attention caught instead on figures dancing across some horizon Sheila hoped she would never see. She bolted from the altar, ran through the church and out the doors. Ahead, the field loomed like a black sheet of paper. Whatever lines had been etched onto it hadn't the force to stand out against the backdrop of nothingness. She looked at the stars, felt a hot tingling in her cunt, realized that she hadn't eaten in quite some time.
The night wind whipped around the contours of her naked form, tickling the space between her legs, causing her nipples to shrivel.
She was filled all at once with a craving. Had it been the words of the madman priest? Had he merely through the power of suggestion pushed her in the realm of hallucination? Or was there truth to his words?
Her clitoris itched. Her pussy lips burned.
And in her deepest cracks, the most hidden pockets and spaces on her body, she felt the dull, long ache of lust. The pent up contractions that linger into a constant presence. A steady throb.
She wanted a cock. She needed a cock. Badly. She would do anything to get one into her.
Fast!
CHAPTER FIVE
She ran.
It was a directionless kind of running, an end in itself. Simply a means of avoiding thought.
She was cutting her legs on the brush and thorns that she stumbled over in the field, but she kept up her frantic pace anyway.
And always, the increasing fire in her crotch.
Perhaps, the priest really had been a madman. Perhaps this girl had simply found herself triggered by a combination of forces that until tonight she'd have been unable to even comprehend, let alone think of them as having any possible influence on her own life.
Perhaps then, it was simply the natural flames that smolder beneath the soft flesh of all women she felt now rising to the surface, heated, ready to explode.
She felt that that's exactly what she was going to do. Explode.
She wanted something to be stuck up her and wanted it now.
Ahead, the dizzy lights of the freeway. Cars roaring past too quickly to even see her, let alone stop for her.
But it was the only place she could think to find other people.
She had no idea where she was. The police officers had taken her on a roundabout tour of the city before they'd settled on a place to have their way with her.
Now, she was totally disoriented.
But it didn't matter. No sooner had she stepped out onto the roadway, when with a crashing of bumpers and a squealing of brakes, a van in the far lane instantly cut across all four lanes, all with heavy traffic in them and screeched to a stop about fifty feet down from where she was standing.
Then she heard gears grinding into reverse and another screech of tires, and the van was bearing down right on top of her.
But the brakes screeched one last time and the back bumper of the van came to a jarring stop, two inches from Sheila's knee cap.
She heard doors slamming, footsteps and then from each side of the van appeared a tall lanky floppy-haired dude, each with astonished looks on their faces.
"What did I tell you Harry," said one, pointing to her.
"Well Luther, you done got one on me. Lord I reckon."
"Darling, what the deuce are you doing standing out here in your glorious altogether for?"
He laughed and gave her a playful pat on the ass.
"Come on sugar, we got some clothes in there for you to wear."
"Sure enough. Say, do you drink?"
"Oh, well ... " started Sheila.
"Good, good, glad to hear it. We got plenty of that too."
One of them took her by the hand and led her back to the van.
Meanwhile, cars were slowing down to stare at the strange sight. She turned at one large Ford that looked like it might actually be getting ready to pull over.
"Flash them a big smile honey," said Luther.
"And then pile that sweet ass of yours into tins van before we all get arrested."
He patted her on the ass as she did what she was told, and then they were off.
"So darling, who are you and how'd you come to be placed in our path?"
"My name's Sheila Grant, and I've been kidnapped."
"Well now, I wouldn't say that. I mean, we didn't force you to get in or anything."
"No, silly, I meant earlier. Gosh, it's all so weird because so much has happened I can't keep it all straight."
"You know," said or rather slurred Luther, "I have that trouble. Nineteen Seventy Four through Nineteen Seventy Nine, for instance. Now there's a period of time where there was just a whole lot going on, and you know, I really can't keep any of it straight. One minute I was rich and famous and happy with a loving wife and three children, and then the next, I was cast out, destitute, a broken shadow of my former self."
He collapsed into uncontrollable sobs.
"The poor man," said Sheila. "Is he always this way?"
"Only when he drinks too much."
"I guess that doesn't happen too much, does it?"
"Only for about ten years now. He'll get over it. It's just a stage he's going through."
"Funny, that's what my mom says to me all the time."
"Really? About you?"
"No, about my dad."
"Ah. Does your mom drink?"
"No, but she does do a little coke on the weekends, if there's someone famous there to do it with her. She figures that makes it all right."
"Well, it's true, old Harry here used to be rich and famous."
"Really? What did he do."
"He used to play Lars Thornton." Sheila was stunned. "Him?! "
"The one and only."
"But Lars Thornton was so ... " she looked again at the broken hulk beside her.
"It's not possible," she murmured.
Lars Thornton. Like the entire nation, she hated Lars Thornton when he'd ruled the airways. The villian on the country's most popular TV show at the time, 'Rancid Bilge' he played the most evil man in the history of Western Civilization. It was a big build up, but he'd managed to pull it off.
"How could he have fallen so low?"
"You know how it is. Fame. Fortune. Dames. Money. Booze. Dames. Money. Booze. Dames. Booze. Dames. Booze. Booze. Booze."
"That bad, huh;"
"OK, maybe you get a few more dames and a little less booze sometimes, but hell, that's just as bad. Nothing can rot your brain worse than booze unless it's a dame."
Then he looked at her breasts, still naked and swaying from the movements of the van.
"Hey, present company excluded, of course. I wasn't making no kind of insult about you or nothing, you understand."
"Sure, don't worry about it."
"By the way, didn't you want something to put on those things?" he asked, pointing to her tits.
"Uh huh," she said and took his free hand that he wasn't using to drive the van and put it on her tits.
"You don't fuck around, do you."
"I didn't used to."
"But you do now?"
"I seem to tonight."
"Oh yeah, it's a full moon."
"Is it? I thought it might be."
She looked out and sure enough, there it was floating like a goldfish bowl in the sky.
That was a stupid thing to think, she thought to herself.
But then, wasn't it even stupider to waste more thoughts becoming aware of the fact?
She felt a paradox coming on, and feeling her logic a little tired and cramped just then, decided to stifle it by forcing herself to sing the entire theme song from 'Maverick' ten times to herself. It always worked.
"OK, what were you saying?"
But Luther was driving along sort of oblivious to the world, one hand gripping her bulbous tit, the other sweatily gripping the wheel, but his eyes were wandering all over his head, ignoring only the space in front of him which included the road.
"LOOK OUT!! ! " screamed Sheila, but it was too late.
The van crashed through the metal railing, tore up a line of small hedges, crushed a family of quail and bounced down the hill finally to land with a mushy thud in the middle of a tiny creek.
The headlights immediately went out and they sat there in total darkness, just the sound of rushing water and their own breathing.
"Luther, why did you do that."
"Gosh, Sheila, when you started humming that song from the TV show, well shucks, it made me feel like I was a kid again. I just sort of got lost in thought."
"What do you think this is, Proust?"
"No, but ... oh well, I guess I done fucked up this time, didn't I?"
"What about Harry?" Sheila suddenly remembered.
"What about Harry," came an annoyed voice from beneath some debris.
"Where is he?"
"Well, well, it's about time someone remembered to ask that question."
"Harry where are you," yelled Luther.
"Tell us if we're getting warm."
"I'm getting warm. You happen to be sitting on my face."
Sheila jumped up.
Then she saw that what she'd thought was a pillow that had been thrown into the front seat was now moving and out popped Harry's head.
"Well Luther, I suppose you'll have a perfectly good explanation for this, won't you."
"Well, shucks Harry, the lady here was singing a song."
Harry looked over at Sheila, gave her the high sign and then played along with Luther.
"Oh, I understand. A song. Songs really get under your skin, don't they Luther?"
"Aw, knock it off Harry. You're just funning with me. ""Brain tumor. Poor chap has only a few months left to live. '
"Are you serious," she asked, wondering which of them might be lying to her.
"Deathly serious. Pathetic."
Then he walked over to Luther.
"You stupid ass-hole!! ! "
He gave him a swift kick in his ass that sent Luther sprawling.
"Now, when you get up, figure us a way out of this mess. LOOK AT IT!! " he thundered, checking out his van.
"It's a total ruin. You jackass!! ! '"
Suddenly Sheila realized that she didn't need to stay with these two very strange weirdos any longer. She wasn't sure that they'd be able to satisfy her cravings anyway. They both seemed about one or two bricks shy of a full load.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" yelled Harry when he saw her slipping away.
"Oh, I just thought I'd take a little walk," she said sweetly.
"The fucking hell you are," said Luther, getting up out of the mud and trying his best to wipe himself off.
"Just because we wrecked our van, doesn't mean we forgot the reason we picked you up in the first place."
"Yeah, and since it's your fault anyway that I wrecked the van, you owe us something. don't you think?"
So. Well, why not. It was after all why she'd been trying to get away.
She walked back to them and Harry held out his hand with a small little grin on his face.
But no sooner had he taken her hand when he closed around her like a steel trap. "Oh! That hurts."
"It's supposed to, you slimy twat!! ! "
"Why are you treating me this way?" she asked in sudden alarm.
"Because you deserve it. They all do. Lying, cheating bitches That's what they all are! Admit it. Aren't you a lying cheating bitch. Aren't you! Admit it."
"OK, OK, just stop squeezing my hand." she cried out.
"Admit it."
"Admit what. I told you OK."
"Admit it!"
"What!? "
"YOU KNOW WHAT! ADMIT THAT YOU'RE A LYING CHEATING BITCH!! "
"I'm a lying cheating bitch. Now will you please let go of my hand."
Harry looked hurt.
"You are?"
"YES!"
He began to cry again.
"Gosh, you can't trust anyone. I thought for sure we'd found someone pure and simple. No shit, you're really a lying cheating bitch?"
"No, but you told me to say it so I did."
"HA! You try to take it back! You lied!! ! "
He looked triumphant.
"I was right."
"Yeah Harry, you was right. Look, could you not take as long this time, we gotta get the van out of the mud and I need your help."
Harry was drooling at the very sight of Sheila who was getting very much afraid. What did Luther mean by 'please not take as long this time'. . . ! Take as long doing what?! She tried to break Harry's grip, but he was too strong for her, even thought he was even older than her father.
"You let me go, you bastard."
"There, you see Luther, she even talks dirty. She's one of them."
"Sure she is Harry. Now will you get to it?"
"OK, Luther. You want any?"
"Yeah, save me a leg and a breast, will you." He laughed at his joke, and Harry probably would have to, but he was too concerned with which tit he was going to start out on. Since his hand was clasped around the right one, he decided that he would follow it right down to the nipple, which he did, biting the living fire out of her as soon as his teeth were within striking distance.
"OUCH!! " Sheila cried. That hurt!
"It was supposed to. I bit you."
"Well, do it with a little more style, would you."
"Listen to this. The kid tells me how to rape her."
"Look, it's not rape unless the victim is unwilling, and if you knew what you were doing, you wouldn't have that problem at all. So why don't you wise up."
Harry looked crushed.
"You mean you're enjoying this?"
"Well, not yet. But I could be if you'd just shape up."
They looked at each other, then back at Sheila.
"Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You ... are telling me ... how to rape you ... do I got it straight?"
"Well, sure."
"I don't believe it. Now I can't even rape someone without them telling me all the shit I'm doing wrong. What is this? Do I deserve this? Why me Lord? Why me? How come, I go to rape someone, they can't just huddle and shiver and cringe and cry Hike anyone else. I have to get someone who probably thinks it's a political statement or some shit. I can't take it. I can't take it, do you hear me? I can't take it anymore!! ! . I'm fucking losing my mind."
Of course, through all this, Harry hadn't released his grip on Sheila's tit one little bit. He noticed this fact again, woke himself out of his trance-like state and decided that there were better things to do than bitch, and once more started to chew on her nipple. Only this time, he tried to be delicate.
"Is that gentle enough for you, your highness?" he asked sarcastically.
"It will do." she responded imperially.
"Fucking bitch," Harry muttered beneath his breath.
But he went to work.
Her nipple was soft and he wanted to feel it grow hard between his teeth.
He soon had his wish. The flesh of her nipple grew tight and puckered, and felt like he was licking his tongue over a tiny pebble.
Each time his tongue ran across her nipple, she let out a long low moan of pleasure.
"What do you know," muttered Luther, watching off to the side, "she really does like it.. '
He just shook his head in wonder and went back to the idea of getting the van out sometime before the turn of the century. So far, the prospects were bleak.
"So what are you saying. That I'm so shallow and superficial that I can be fooled by a surface display of emotions that have no substance?"
"No, but at times, the illusion of a fantasy can turn the fantasy to reality. Don't you agree."
"Sometimes. But there are times when you want something a little more sincere than "Oh God, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming."
"But what if I was coming?"
"But you weren't."
"But if I was, I'd have been screaming the same thing."
Harry started to say something, but Sheila rolled right over him.
"So there really is no phenomenological difference between what you perceive to be true and what is true. Thus, from your perspective, they are one and the same."
"Except, you had to open your big mouth and tell me that I wasn't the red hot lover I thought I was. So I'm pissed at you."
"Why don't you just try to do the job right this time?"
Harry pondered, decided, and dove back into her. This time, he didn't come up for air until she had not only repeated her cry but did so with such a passionate release of energy that it left her wasted. Only then would he believe that she wasn't kidding.
Selffulfilling prophecy, Sheila thought to herself.
One hot twat, Harry mused.
One fuck of a mess, thought Luther.
"So, Luther, have you figured out a way to get us airborne again?"
"Fuck Harry, I don't know. Looks like the thing's in OK shape, just that it's sunk up to the doors in mud. I could try to pull it out, but I doubt I'd have much luck."
"Hmmm, we could use your head as a pivot ... " but then Harry discarded this idea too.
"Well, dammit, we have to do something." That's when they heard the music drifting through the woods.
"What's that." asked Harry. "Sounds like a flute."
"Yeah. What's a flute doing way out here."
"Where are we," asked Sheila, remembering that she was supposed to get back home sometime soon."
"Way out."
"Way the fuck out."
That was all she could get out of them.
They wouldn't tell her a thing. That's when she began to suspect that they didn't know either.
"Well look. Someone has to know where we are, don't they?"
"Beats me. All I know is all of a sudden we were in a van and there you were and this fool was cutting through four lanes of traffic."
"Yeah, but it was worth it, wasn't it?"
"Not if we spend the rest of our life in the mud."
"Who said anything about spending the rest of our lives in the mud?"
"Yeah?" He looked at Luther.
"Well, I don't see anyone coming up with any good suggestions as to just what we are going to do. In fact, I doubt that anyone has any idea what we're going to do."
"The flute's getting closer," said Sheila.
They stopped and listened. Indeed, it was drawing closer, and now they could hear a tambourine, and a soft female voice singing a sweet melody. There didn't seem to be any words, only a series of La-La-La lines with the most haunting melody that Sheila had ever listened to.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked. Harry and Luther just seemed scared.
"Look, I don't know what the story is, but
I have a feeling that one of us doesn't belong here. Either you, sweetheart, or Harry and me here, or else whoever's playing that fucking flute. So look, maybe if you go look for them, they'll forget all about us, and we can go back to wherever we came from."
"That sounds fair to me," said Sheila, gave them both a kiss and trotted on down the edge of the creek.
No sooner had she gotten out of sight of Harry and Luther, when the music suddenly seemed to be all around her.
"Hello," she called out.
There was no response, only the music.
"Who's there," she asked.
The music finally stopped. Then she heard the sounds of laughter.
Peering through the mist, she saw four pale forms dancing in the moonlight.
"Hello ... who are you?"
They just laughed and kept dancing, although without the flute, they seemed just a little uncoordinated.
"Play the flute again," she asked, wanting to hear it's haunting melody, and also because she hoped they wouldn't look so uncoordinated.
Then the music started up once more, and as if under a spell, Sheila passed through the line of bushes and walked up to the four forms, which, as she approached, turned into four stunningly beautiful naked women.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"The same as you. We were meant to be here." one answered mysteriously.
"By who. I don't understand."
"But it is not for you to understand. For you are within. And the walls are all around you and you cannot break out of them even if you could locate them. So simply relax and accept the flow in which you find yourself."
"But, that means that I can't make any decisions or anything, doesn't it. I mean, is someone doing all my thinking for me?"
"Perhaps," smiled one.
"You shouldn't worry about it."
"Here, these will help."
"What are they," asked Sheila, looking at four bright orange barrel shaped tablets.
"Orange sunshine. We've been taking it for a week and we feel fine."
"Oh really," said Sheila, backing away. She didn't need that shit. The world had turned weird enough as it was.
"But don't you see," asked one, coming close. "In a world where there are no limits, only the most insane of reactions is the sane response. You do see that, don't you?"
"Look, if I take one of those things, will you stop trying to convert me?"
"As you like," she smiled again, and held out one of the pills to Sheila.
Sheila took it, popped it into her mouth, but only pretended to swallow it.
Holding it under her tongue for a second, she waited until the four had gone back to their dancing before spitting it onto the ground.
She hoped none had been absorbed into her bloodstream.
But as the minutes stretched on, she noticed a strange glow start to hover around each of the girls.
They were beautiful. In the moonlight, they moved like dream figures. Piles of silken garments lay bundled off at the edge of the clearing, and their naked bodies formed a perfect compliment to the blackness of the night, the bit of life that makes a mockery of the nothingness.
She felt like dancing. Her body was starting to tingle. And time was slowing down.
So much so, that she felt as though she was in a slow motion film clip. Each step was an exercise in floating. Slowly, slowly, slower....
Four pairs of breasts drifted up and down in the chilled air. Floating through bodily twists and jerks, the four blended until there was simply a nakedness, a sexual force.
Sheila felt it in her legs, felt it rising through her body, filling her breasts, then echoing back in a long fine blast that pummeled each nerve fibre till it could only emit spastic bursts static. Every muscle twitched, every limb shivered.
A tall graceful lady with waist length hair glided over to Sheila.
"You must come with us."
"Where are we going," asked Sheila.
The lady smiled.
"That's not what I meant, silly."
When they got back to where the other girls had been dancing, Sheila saw what the lady meant. The other three girls were already hooked up tongue to clit in a three link chain, and Sheila saw that it was soon to become five.
Slender, practiced fingers probed into the cheeks of Sheila's ass. Dipping in, further, further, until she felt the small ring of muscle start to contract against the push and entry of a sharp fingernail, a slim finger following.
Sheila lowered herself to the ground in a reflexive movement, getting down on her knees to raise up her ass to the intruding fingers. She loved it, loved the sense of total violation, the feeling that nothing was removed, everything was open to attack.
Deeper and deeper it probed, pushing aside the small contractions in resistance.
Then there was a second finger.
And at the same time, the lady's thumb and other two fingers began to lick at the gates of her pussy. Sheila felt movement through her wet slit, felt the sloshing of her juices as they extended themselves through the outer lips, down past her dewy petals, right into that cave of thick inky lust. That musk filled cavern, down into it they plunged and whipped the waiting juice to a rich froth.
Sheila rolled her hips against the lady's hand, pressing further and further into her enfolding palm.
Then she began to lick at the open pussy that stretched out in front of her.
She was instantly coated in the juices and heavy scent of an aroused cunt.
Her cheeks were coated by the spread lips pressing violently down into her face.
And then she started to lick back with her tongue. Lick deeply and hard, digging into her with more and more force.
She felt the girl's body stiffen, then start to quake, to tremble as if from a bitter chill.
She could feel the tension spring from body to body, each stimulation of a tongue rippling outward from the engorged clitoris, dancing through an unbroken chain from cunt out through nerves to muscles which in turn echo back and send further the energy at the next linking of tongue and cunt.
The lady who had first come over to Sheila now began to pull the line to one side, in an ever shrinking curve until she was able to back her pussy right in the waiting face of the girl who had been at the head of the line.
The chain was complete!
The effect was instant.
Sheila felt a rippling then a tensing of muscles through the entire circle.
Faces began to roll into the spread pussy flesh before them with greater urgency.
The only release from the rising heat in each clitoris was to work it out on the cunt buried in that person's face.
Soon there was simply an overload.
They were running purely on heat now, thought having stopped eons earlier.
Sheila was consumed by the heat. Her cunt was like a tortured prisoner.
She bit at the clitoris between her teeth, felt the pain produced racing like a spark and almost as quickly fill her own pussy.
She began to feedback. A long whine grew in her brain, distorting all thoughts to mindless static.
The same was true for the signals racing through her nerves. Forget it.
Pure spastic randomness.
Muscles clenching and releasing like a chicken without a head running through the barnyard, cries rushing from her throat, violent jerking and bucking of hips, and still there is no release.
She screams.
She cries.
She begs for more.
"Oh God, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!!!" she yelled.
She felt her clitoris being chewed harder.
"Help, I can't take it any more, help, help" she cried, losing complete control.
Finally the chain was broken, by one of the others, not Sheila. For that she felt some measure of pride.
They lay there in the moonlight a long while. Hands gently stroked Sheila's breasts, rubbed her shoulder, scratched her back, and massaged her thighs.
"That feels wonderful," she moaned.
"Shhhh ... " said one, putting a finger to Sheila's lips.
"Rest now. There's lot's you have to learn."
Then she kissed Sheila on her lips, and began stroking her breasts again.
Sheila closed her eyes, felt her muscles go limp at last, not just with a quick release of tension, but with a feeling of free fall, of drifting over a long period of time. Still, they continued to loosen, expand yet another minute bit.
She had never been so consumed by orgasm.
And now the same fingers were again at her breasts, gently running around the full swell of the bottom curves ... touching lightly around the tips of her nipples, bringing the tiny buds to full erection without yet making contact with them.
Around and around in circles, growing ever smaller, around and around, till at last, there was only the nipple of each breast, with a finger circling at the outer edge. And then they pulled back. Soothing fingers roaming elsewhere, down the flat plane of her stomach down between her legs, gently stroking the pussy hair.
Then back once more to her breasts, repeating the whole series of steps, the soft stroking of skin, the circular caress, dwindling in size, closer and closer, now at the nipple, touching, touching ... but pulling back again.
Instead there is a sudden flickering movement at her clitoris. Soft like the wing of a butterfly in flight, thinks Sheila dreamily, wondering just how much of that very interesting drug actually leaked into her blood from being under her tongue and thought perhaps she'd spit it out a little too hastily.
But no matter. This was fantastic.
The woman's fingers were all over Sheila now, racing through her pubic hair, slipping up her slit, wiggling through the wet muck.
And then lips were sucking her breasts, teeth grazing across the brown flesh, again the sucking lips, the gentle smothering feeling of a suckling infant, but so assured, so certain of what it is all about.
Sheila had never felt her breasts respond so masssiely. She actually felt herself begin to come, simply from having her breasts sucked.
"Oh my God, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," she screamed.
The sucking at her breasts decreased quickly, but the feeling was quickly replaced by a finger sliding through her wet cunt flesh again.
"Oh, that feels sooooooo, gooooood," moaned, Sheila.
"Shhhh, it's supposed to, dear."
That sounded a little too paternal to Sheila, who, after all never did have a very big mother complex, and she was wondering if maybe she might not want to think about rolling on, when there was a sound of trumpets, a sudden thunder of hoof beats and a delighted squeal, tinged with fear, from each lady.
Sheila sat up and there were five huge black stallions.
Riding each, was what Sheila could only describe as a God.
All were naked, perfectly built with firm muscles rippling beneath the taut skin, all with faces carved out of granite. They dismounted.
The ladies backed up, still giggling nervously, not certain what was expected of them.
Sheila, on the other hand, stood her ground. She didn't know what was going on, but so far, she hadn't seen anything that made her think she'd fallen off the page or anything.
A tall blonde walked straight towards Sheila.
He said nothing, simply took her by the arm and led her back to his waiting steed.
Mounting, he then reached down to take Sheila's hand, pulled her up to him and set her crossways in front of his body. She reached around, flung her arms about his neck and without a hint as to where it would be, they were off, flying through the night, two naked figures torn from a dream, pasted onto the cardboard night and somehow, mystically, blown to life.
CHAPTER SIX
They rode like the wind.
Uh-oh, thought Sheila, I'm getting corny.
But they did ride like the wind. She sure could feel enough of it tearing over her body.
Enough of this naked shit, she thought. Come on, already. Let me have some clothes.
In due time, in due time.
But first, who's this tall stranger who seems to have fallen right out of the sixth century
B.C.
Which might not be such a bad idea, thought Sheila. Talk to the Gods, maybe mess around with one or two of them. Old Zeus, wasn't he supposed to have knocked up a couple of mortals, left some half breeds around who stirred up trouble.
But no, it wasn't the sixth century B.C., as she found out soon enough.
They were in a very dark part of the forest by now, when all of a sudden, a light appeared through the woods.
"Is it yours," she asked.
He simply nodded.
They approached, and Sheila was a little sad to see that it was a fairly modern looking log cabin, complete with TV antenna and air conditioning.
"What is this place," asked Sheila.
The man gently lowered her to the ground. At first, Sheila was afraid that he'd just turn around and wander off, leaving her alone to improvise the next scene, the way Luther and Harry had done, but he seemed to think better of it and got down.
Sheila was certain that there was an explanation that would blend the strange tripping naked ladies with this woodsman hunter setting, to say nothing of the other four God-types who'd burst on the scene.
"What ... " she started to ask. "Shhh ... " was the interrupting reply. "But," she tried again.
"Not now," he whispered, placing a finger over her lips.
"But..., " she insisted.
"Some things are best left unasked. Some doors best left closed."
"But who are you?"
He just smiled, patted his horse on the ribs, whereupon the beast trotted off through the woods.
Sheila watched him go, and somehow felt that all hope of sanity somehow trotted off beside him.
She turned back to the naked man by her side. His eyes were a frost blue, deep and eternally questioning.
His body was lean, firm, well shaped.
But his cock ... that was what stole Sheila's attention above all else.
That cock!! !
She was stunned.
Never had a erect cock seemed to be to determined about it.
"I can't believe ... " she started to say, losing herself in her amazement.
But then she caught herself and looked shyly at him. He simply gazed back at her with his frost blue eyes that seemed to capture the moonlight like two shards of ice chipped from a glacier.
But his smile was soft, warm. The mixture made for a face of utter mystery, enigmatic....
"Come over here," was all he said.
She had no power to resist. Whatever he had told her to do at that moment, she would have done, gladly, without a second's thought.
She stood before him, the tip of his hard cock gently nudging against her tight flat stomach.
"Touch me," he instructed her.
She didn't need to ask where.
"It feels like stone," she whispered to him, the sight of so much focused power openly on display momentarily overwhelming her.
"Grab it. Tightly."
Her fingers encircled the entire shaft, she closed her grip and gave his hard meat a mighty squeeze.
"Ah-ahhhhhh ... " he groaned, obviously enjoying the feel of her hand, but not letting her make him lose control. Not yet.
"Where do you come from?" she asked softly, nibbling a tiny path across the face of his ear lobe.
"I am like the sky. I am like the night." he answered.
She looked him squarely in the face.
"The fucking hell you are."
He burst out laughing at that, and for a few minutes he couldn't control himself.
Sheila was starting to get a little peeved at him, to tell the truth about it.
Come on, she thought. Fun's fun but let's not over do it, shall we.
"It wasn't that funny a remark."
"True, but-it showed spirit. Sometimes the unexpected can provoke laughter, particularly if it's pleasantly unexpected."
"Like looking up and seeing you and four of your clones charging through the woods like it was a dream or something?"
He grinned.
"Yeah, a little like that."
"Who are you people!" she demanded.
"Shhhh ... " he said, placing his finger back on her lips. Once again, it worked, although Sheila would have had a little difficulty say exactly why.
Then his fingers found their way between her naked thighs.
With steady but gentle caresses, he coaxed the full juices that had gathered inside her out through her pouting pussy lips and began to spread it all over her skin.
"Ummmm, what are you doing ... ? " she asked, not really caring so long as he kept it up. "You know, you ask a lot of questions," he told her.
"But what do I call you?"
She couldn't believe that he was being so mysterious, yet making it part of some kind of strange game.
"For the last time, WHO are you PEOPLE?! ! '"
He just looked down at her and started up the stroking movements inside her pussy.
"What was that, I don't think I heard you ... " he asked her in a soft rhythmic voice that matched the pulse of his strokes against her clitoris.
"Oh ... I don't ... OH!. . .oh yes, yes ... Um ... I don't ... uh ... really seem ... OH GOD!! to remember ... OH!. . . "
"Don't remember ... don't remember what ... ? "
"Oh God, that's wonderful ... right there ... yes ... yes ... um ... I, uh, don't remember what ... OH MY GOD!! ! OH SWEET JESUS!! ! yes, yes, yes,yes,yes," she replied.
Then he dug three of his fingers into her pussy lips, rammed them straight through her fuck hole, down deep into her innermost cunt chamber, down amongst the gooey juices, the thick heavy secretions of her pussy and its madly aroused flesh.
"Oh that's perfect, yes, yes, ' she screamed.
"You like that?"
"Yes! MORE!! Don't stop, please don't stop.
He was rubbing his thumb against her clitoris while his fingers dug into her pussy and the combination of sensations blew the top right off her skull. Especially when he knew so perfectly how to home in on the truly sensitive parts of her pussy.
He took one of her petal-like inner lips and gently pulled at it with his fingers.
Each time he would stretch it just a little further, but he did so in such a careful way she hardly noticed, only became aware of a growing tension inside her as each little thing he did to her fed into the larger current of arousal, was drawn into her body as a whole, every fiber becoming charged beyond belief.
She had both her hands around his cock now, and was pulling on it for all she was worth.
Harder, harder, tighter and tighter, she pulled upwards as far as the skin would stretch, then she pushed back down into his crotch, all the while keeping her grip as tight as she possibly could.
Each time she pulled outward on his cock, her circling fist rubbed against the base of the head of his prick, right along the ridge where it turns back into the shaft itself. Right where the nerves were more sensitive.
Then she made a ring of her thumb and forefinger and simply slipping it around the head of his cock, she moved it back and forth right on the very same ridge.
Finally he responded.
"You are very good. Very desirable too." She grinned shyly and continued stroking his cock.
"You have beautiful breasts," he told her. "Thank you." she answered, blushing. After all, she really couldn't take any credit for them. They just grew on her. She hadn't even wanted them at first. She simply thought of them as needless bother.
Until she quickly became a real 'melon girl', bobbing through the day with a gentle sway and a pert jiggle.
She saw the reaction men had when they looked at her small lithe child's body with the child's face and a grown woman's tits.
They would literally slobber.
She loved to see them reduced to slobbering fools.
But not this one. He didn't slobber.
He looked at her breasts without lust, as a lord looks over his realm, secure in the knowledge that it is his as far as the eye can see.
Then he reached out to her breasts, took a nipple in each hand and began a slow gentle rolling squeezing motion as if they were two small lumps of clay for him to mold as he pleased.
He pulled on them.
He pushed on them.
He pressed his body against them.
He rolled both breasts around on her body, pressing hard to feel them squish beneath his hand.
"That's wonderful," she moaned, pushing her body into his.
"I'm just getting started," he smiled. "Can't we go somewhere. I'm a little cold."
"Oh really? Funny, I'm not."
"Well, what have you been taking."
"Nothing. That's precisely the point."
"What is?"
"No one's taken anything."
"Wanna bet?"
"Yeah."
"Those four nymphs were tripping their asses off."
"On sugar."
"No! I had a little."
"What do you mean 'a little'? "
"They gave me a pill and I pretended to take it, but I just hid it under my tongue and then I spit it out when they weren't looking."
He just looked at her with an amused smile.
"But it was under my tongue long enough for some of the chemical to be absorbed into my blood stream."
"What chemical?"
"They said it was Orange sunshine."
"Yes, but did they say it was LSD."
"What other kind of Orange Sunshine is there?"
"Well, the kind you took, for one thing."
She couldn't believe it.
"But I felt it! I really did!"
"What did you feel? That you were being transported into a fantasy world?"
"...yeah...."
"Well, weren't you?"
"Yeah ... I guess I was."
She looked at him with a puzzled look.
"So what's the point?"
"The Power of Suggestion."
He tapped his forehead, made a circular motion with his finger and then pointed it down towards her cunt, extended his hand until the finger tip touched her clitoris, let it slide through her wet slit and then rammed it right back inside her cunt again.
"You're a bastard," she told him, without conviction, she had to admit.
He smiled.
"Then you must get off on bastards, huh?" She backed away.
"What makes you think I'm getting off on you?"
"Oh Ho! Playing hard to get, are we? Well, my dear, there are ways to deal with someone like you, and they are all quite pleasant. For the dealer. You, on the other hand might find them a little ... shall we say, straining?"
What was this?
Was it happening again? Yes, a shift of perspective, without warning. Suddenly it was as if she were with a new person, a stranger whom she'd never laid eyes on before.
The same face, yet now, the enigmatic air had vanished. In its place, the frigid blue of his eyes seemed to have extended over his entire face, altering all his facial features, just enough to change everything he said to her.
"What's happening?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"You don't know?" he asked, implying that she should have known. "No, what?"
"My dear, it's all arbitrary. What we do and say has only surface meaning, and thus changes only on the surface. The true content of interaction flows undisturbed beneath, bubbling out into metaphor at times, but usually as misdirection.
"But isn't metaphor misdirection?"
"True, but a circular kind that leads ultimately back to the original object."
"So then, if all is a role, who chooses the roles."
"A good question. It shows you're thinking."
"But what's the answer?"
"Think about it. Hasn't there been something strange about us?"
"...us ... " she repeated, not sure exactly what he was referring to.
"Come on. The horses, the women, those two clowns in the van."
"You're with them?" she asked, stunned. Suddenly it began to seem that there was an unbroken web of circumstances woven together as if by laws of logic never introduced to our sphere.
"Who are you?" she asked a final time, and her tone indicated that the game, whatever it might turn out to be, would not continue without a convincing answer to that question.
"We're looking for that answer."
She stared at him a long time in the moonlight.
"Huh?" she asked, finally.
He stepped closer to her.
"It's all a myth. None of it really connects, but if our eyes are given the correct suggestion, they will see. Our ears hear. Our lips ... touch ... " he said as he leaned to kiss her.
"You taste so good. Don't tell me you aren't real, I won't let you oh stop all this foolishness and just fuck me, please," she whimpered in his ear, letting her tongue graze along the many complex ridges and hollows.
She felt his body go tense.
"You do want me, and you aren't a mean wicked person, are you?"
"Not if that's what you want from me."
"What I want from you is your cock."
He placed it at her cunt.
"Yes, like that." she said.
"Now, slip it inside," he told her.
She took the head between her fingers and slid it through her wet slit until she felt it hit the hollow leading down inside her pussy.
Making certain that it was secure, she began to press against it with her hips and felt his body answer with a thrust of its own.
It slipped in an inch or two, then he pulled it back out.
Down in again, then back out. In, out, in, out, each time probing a little further down her slick canal.
"OH, you're so big," she groaned.
"You're pretty tight too," he answered.
"Well, what do you expect. I'm young and inexperienced."
"That's a load of it."
It was her turn to be unexpectedly surprised by his comment. It was good to hear him step out of the serious role he'd drawn them both into, to listen to him respond with a different personality, as if, no matter how many changes he went through, there was still that calm, joking controlling hand reaching over the entire theatrical mess. But what, she wondered, what if the calm controller was just another role, to be discarded with the rest once its usefulness was expended. She still had no bearings here, was simply responding to the primitive urges inside her.
Her pussy quivered.
His cock throbbed.
In and out.
In and out.
Harder and harder.
Deeper and deeper.
He fucked her till she came, then he fucked her some more.
"Fuck me," she screamed.
"I am fucking you!! ! " he yelled back.
"Harder!" she yelled.
"Jesus, what do you want from me, a hernia?"
No, that's OK, let's not get carried away there, stud. You're doing just fine the way you are.
He plowed in and out of her through one climax after another, each one ramming through her with greater and greater force.
The wet lips of her pussy were tightly stretched around the driving shaft of his cock. Every thrust pushed her higher, stretched her tighter, brought her closer and closer to the elusive perpetual orgasm. She wanted it, wanted an orgasm like a sun, feeding on itself for its energy, burning down inside her between her legs until it had used her all up. She craved it.
Thought that this stud might do the trick.
But no. After what may have only been thirty or forty ordinary orgasms, she felt him going crazy, heard a grunt and a groan, heard his breathing get faster, and then his cock was at her like a burst from a machine gun, drilling her into oblivion.
He was still fucking her when she woke back up, so she assumed that she had only fallen out of it for a few seconds.
Then, she looked at his face.
And his hair!!
Black!!
Where was the blonde hair, the ice-blue eyes?
These eyes were yellow! And they were much more intense, almost like gazing straight into a furnace, watching yourself become hypnotized by the flickering flames, compelled by them, almost, willing, it seems, to even take that final, irrevocable leap in....
She felt herself falling into his eyes, losing all concern with how long she'd been out, with the reasons or wherefores of this new development.
She wanted only to feel the hard cock continue its mad thrashing of her cunt.
In and out, in and out, harder and harder, faster, until she felt him coming with the same force that the one who preceded him did.
The last mighty blasts of his hips and he was still.
But the tingling in her pussy was only beginning.
She wanted more. She had to have it.
"More," she begged, tugging at his shoulder.
"In a minute," he murmured, his head still buried in the ground where it had fallen upon finishing his fuck.
"No, not in a minute, NOW!"
He looked up at her.
"I said I want it now!"
She was becoming insistent to a degree that shock even her.
She'd never been so utterly craven and wanton about her sex drive. Always, it had been with an ulterior motive that she'd allowed men to touch her body, but now, she wanted only the sticky slimy heat of it.
She craved it.
She wanted to feel her body rolling in the juice of sex, feel her skin soaked from the sweat of it, feel her brain numbed by the force of it.
She was hot.
She was horny.---
She wanted to be fucked.
She was unable to pretend any longer.
It was out of control. She was set on a course that was no longer of her choosing or under her control.
All thoughts flowed from the cunt now.
All actions were routed through the clitoris, and accepted or rejected based on how much promise they held forth of giving her more sensation
Raw, physical sensation.
That's all she wanted.
She wanted to feel hands tearing at her body.
She wanted to feel her breasts being pinched, squeezed, rolled around on her, pulled, pushed, slapped, whipped, beaten ... yes, she wanted to feel a whip on her
That's right.
Let a nice strand or two of well worked leather crack its harsh way through the swamp of her mushy pussy flesh.
It'd be a massacre!
"Massacre my cunt," she said to him, as soon as the words popped up. She wanted to be violated, savaged, mutilated with a cock.
Wanted to feel a whip on her tender flesh, feel a cock up her tender ass, feel it scraping between her two breasts, and she wanted to watch right down the line of fire as that huge prick sloshed its way between each mound of tit-flesh, back and forth, up and down it slams, rolling her breasts along with it until the tiny mouth puckers and ejects the hot white glob of !
Right on her cheek.
She licked it off with her tongue, remembered that this was the fantasy, reached down between his legs and pulled the still hard hunk of meat up as far as it would go.
Then she fell onto her back, pulling him by the cock as she lay down. After centering it between her breasts, she pressed them into each other, smothering his prick in the process.
"Oh, yes, fuck my tits, fuck my tits, please fuck my tits."
"Hey, whatever turns you on," he told her.
Back and forth, back and forth, she stared right into the blank eye of his prick, watched amazed as the head kept turning a deeper and deeper shade of purple.
So hard, she thought to herself. So solid and hard, like stone.
And then, just as she had imagined, the tiny mouth puckered up and spat out a huge glob of cum.
Splat-t!!
Right on her cheek.
She licked it off with her tongue and told herself that the reality is always better than the fantasy.
"Keep fucking them." she begged.
"You ask too much," he told her.
"No I don't I just need a hard prick that can fuck me. "
"Well, I had one, but you worked the damn thing right off."
"Well, maybe I can work another one back on."
"I sure hope so."
He lowered his prick into her mouth and she started to suck madly.
Harder and harder, biting, chewing, licking, nibbling.
She heard him moan, heard him groan, heard him gasp.
But nothing in her mouth.
"What am I doing wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. That's just the point. You did everything right, and you tapped me dry."
"Well, I didn't mean to," she sulked.
"Of course you did! If you didn't mean to, you wouldn't have done it."
"Oh, I get it. There are no accidents, right. Everything conforms to the brain waves, or something?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"So, who are you people?"
He looked off into the woods.
"We are the spirit of the trees. We are spring. We are autumn. We are...."
"We are full of shit. No come on. Who are you, and what are you doing here. For that matter, what am I doing here?"
"You are fulfilling your destiny. Don't you see, it was decided that you would be here, because that's what was needed."
"Needed for what."
"The requirements of whatever it is that makes this moment the next organic step from the last one."
"Yes, but moments have no dimension, not even time. So there are an infinite amount and they all add up to nothing. We deal in absurdities. It's a subject I grow tired of."
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Where'd you read all that shit."
"I made it up. Can we fuck some more."
"Maybe later. I told you, you wore me out."
"Well, I'll have to do something about that, won't I. I mean, I feel responsible."
"We are all responsible. Yet, in a way, none of us are responsible."
"Unless you're willing to relinquish cause and effect."
"How does that make us responsible?"
"By forcing us into the vortex of the paradox. Without the logic of organic growth, we have to create the space for ourselves. Therefore, we become responsible for whatever context we find ourselves in. The further removed from any definable origins, the more we are responsible for it."
"So then, you're saying that you are responsible for me not being able to get hard, even though we both did exactly what was called for by the circumstances that we found ourselves in, right?"
"Fuck me."
"Well, what do you know. Now that I understand the metaphysics of the situation I don't seem to have any problems at all."
"Better living through philosophy, that's what my daddy always said."
"Let's hear it for good old Dad," he said, drunkenly.
"Don't you make fun of my daddy." she warned.
"Why not?" he said, his ego challenged.
"Because he's a powerful man who could have you shot by assassins hired from Europe within an hour of giving the order."
His face seemed to turn to stone. Was it fear, shock or paranoia that she saw replacing the features she'd become familiar with. She wondered what to do next.
The night was young, or so it seemed. She knew that she'd never let anything happen to him. She just wanted to frighten him so that he'd stop making fun of her daddy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She didn't have long to wait.
Suddenly there was the sound of a trumpet through the woods. Then the rush of hoof beats, a movement through the woods and all at once, the others were back.
Sheila recognized the tall blonde who had first carried her off riding now with the lady who had first brought her into the group.
The others were also paired off, each woman sitting sideways in front of the men.
They dismounted from the horses, and as if from a secret signal, all five trotted off back through the woods.
"Will they reappear when you need them?"
"Of course," said the blonde, her blonde, she thought with a sudden pang of jealousy, "doesn't everything?"
"Not for me," she said, then realized she sounded silly. She'd always had everything appear for her, whenever she wanted it.
But that wasn't the same, was it? Having something just because you wanted it didn't really seem to give any kind growth experience. But having things appear when they were necessary ... now that was something approaching magic. How amazing it would be to be able to go through life, knowing that the choices you were making were being made with exactly the tools necessary to understand them, comprehend the options, select from among the varied platters set before you....
She looked back at the naked bodies that had now surrounded her.
"What are you going to do to me," she asked'
"Do you trust us?" the blonde asked. "How can I? I don't know you."
"It's not the same thing at all," he smiled. Then he walked over to her, stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders hard enough for her to feel the pressure.
"Now, lean against my hands," he instructed, and she did so, feeling the supporting pressure like a gentle cushion.
"Now, I'm going to take three steps backwards. I want you to lean backwards, keeping your body straight, simply trusting me. to catch you."
She heard his feet rustle through the grass.
"All right, go."
She began to fall, almost feeling herself slip into that uncontrollable reflex of fear, trying to regain her balance.
But his hands were there, as she'd know they would be.
"You see," he told her, "you trusted me, but you don't know me."
"But I do" she said, staring deeply into his eyes.
"Will you trust me again?" he asked. "Yes," she responded.
He turned her around once more and then, sounding almost far away, he told her to fall backwards.
She did so without hesitation. The feeling of trust truly was a glorious thing.
Back she fell, past the final balance point, controlled only by her weight and gravity now, back, back, back, where were the hands, where were the fucking hands, faster now, faster--! THUD-D!!
She felt herself imbedded in an indentation exactly the size of her body.
Then she realized that she must have been lying there for a few moments of scattered oblivion. All of them were standing around her.
"What we have "here," the blonde was explaining to the others, "is a refutation of the notion that we can predict the future by studying the past."
"We also have a good example of cause and effect," Sheila told him.
"How's that?" he asked.
She swung her foot right into his balls.
He reacted in the predictable way.
While he flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water, Sheila stood up and spoke to the others.
"Lo." she said solemnly. "Cause." She extended her foot. "Effect." She pointed to the writhing body.
They all nodded, and she suddenly realized that the only thing that was missing was for each of them to have notepads in which they could scribble furiously.
The blonde stood up, a bit shakily.
"Of course, we can't overlook the fact that we now have an ideal situation with which to demonstrate responsibility for one's actions."
He suddenly had the same menacing look that had come over him earlier.
Uh-oh, thought Sheila. Here it comes.
"Take her hands," he instructed two of the ladies, who immediately did as they were told.
"Wait a minute," Sheila said, growing alarmed, "what are you going to do to me?"
"Why, punish you of course." said the blonde. It seemed so obvious. Why was she questioning it.
"What do you mean? Leave me alone. No one's going to punish me!! "
She started to struggle, but it was no use. They were astonishingly strong for their frail appearance. She pulled against their grip, but it only seemed to strengthen it.
"Let me go! Let me go! I want to go home. I want my momma," she cried.
"No chance," was the cold reply. "You paid your nickel, you took your chance, now you get your prize."
She was white with panic now.
"Stop this! I'll call the police."
"Haven't you already tried that?" he asked, with a smirk.
So! They knew. Somehow, it was all connected!
She fought them, but nonetheless found her hands being tightly bound to a low hanging branch, then hoisted up even higher so that her feet just barely touched the ground.
"Please don't do this, I'm sorry, I really am."
"Stop."
Something in his voice compelled her to obey.
"Don't you see? This is all merely an exercise. We are playing out on this level something that takes place at a far more serious and deadly level every moment in the day. Don't you understand that?"
"Your talking gibberish. How can I understand that?"
He sighed.
She'd have to be taught.
"Gather around, class," he said.
They all did, and then the tallest lady, with boobs even larger than Sheila's walked up to her.
"You should not be afraid. There is nothing that can harm you here."
Sheila wanted to believe her. The pain in her wrist gave the lie to her words.
"Please let me go. I promise, I won't tell anyone about this place."
"What place is that?" asked the blonde.
"Well, I don't know." He smiled.
"She still doesn't understand, does she?"
They all smiled sad smiles....
Then the whip hit her back.
The pain burned with the force of a storm, burned like hot coals set against her skin.
Again it struck her.
She started to shriek uncontrollably.
Again the lash fell.
And again.
Then, she felt it fall lower, across her buttocks and felt the long red stripe rising across her soft skin. It stayed and she could feel it continue to burn, even after the lash was aimed elsewhere, across her back again, across her thighs.
Then, she saw the figure walking around to face her. She let out a gasp of shock and horror.
He was naked, except for a black hood with two slanted slits for eye holes.
Never had she gazed upon a more ominous image.
And all it s evil was focused on her body.
She struggled against the rope again, but knew she couldn't stave off the attack that was already getting ready to fall on her.
She watched him contemplate the whip, rub his hand over the smooth handle.
She watched transfixed as he slowly brought his arm back, raised it for the most precise angle, then swung the whip with all his strength.
The tip of the leather strands tore across the delicate soft flesh of her breasts, and she screamed.
Again she felt her breasts being seared to their very core.
On the nipples, each in their turn.
Crack after crack of the vicious lash.
Her breasts were scorched.
Then he lowered his aim to her stomach.
And finally, to her pussy.
That soft patch of hair, he saved till last, until she was already weakened from the whipping, until she hung from the branch like another piece of Spanish Moss.
"Raise her up," she heard the whipmaster say, and felt hands on her ravaged back and buttocks lifting her up, spreading her legs, aiming her body so that their was an unbroken line between her clitoris and the tip of the lash.
A line he began to break and break again with each sharp swing of his arm.
Right onto her clitoris!
Right through her wet pink slit.
Cracking down again and again on her body, filling her with pain, filling her with rage, and against her will, bringing the most intense orgasm she'd yet experienced out of her shrieks of pain and burning nerve endings.
All her muscles went spastic. All her joints twisted back and forth as if broken hinges. Animal sounds rushed from her throat.
She was past reason.
She was plunged over the line, became lost in a world where there was no physical reality, simply an unyielding wall of blind pain.
The whip fell with faster rhythms, struck with harsher force, and at last, the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness overtook her.
But what was that sound she heard, just as she was going under?
A roaring.
A violent buzzing from all directions. And shouts.
And lights, moving bright white lights. What was it, she wondered, but didn't care. Whatever it was, it made the whip stop. It was a reprieve. She was--!
CHAPTER EIGHT
When she woke up, she had been taken down from the branch.
She looked around in the darkness and noticed that the strange moon glow that seemed to illuminate the clearing had gone. Clouds now covered the moon.
A dark shape approached her.
"So, rich bitch, we meet again."
She gasped.
"Gamal!! "
"At your service, lady."
"What are you doing here?"
"Why do you care? Obviously we happened along at just the right moment."
"Yes, but how. Why? What? Where--! "
"Look lady, people like you waste all your time analyzing situations. People like me just do it. You know what I mean."
"Yes, but you can't do something if it doesn't make sense, can you?"
"We just did."
There was no denying his logic. Which raised a much more ominous fear in her brain.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"Well, as I recall, when we were so rudely interrupted, you had a date with a wrench. What do you say? You still up for it?"
She felt her stomach drop between her feet.
"Why don't you just let me go home. I promise that I'll be nice to your uncle. Really, I will."
"Too late for that, lady. He was so humiliated that he threw himself off the roof of his house."
"Oh no!" she cried. Had she been responsible for that too?
"Is he ... " she was afraid to form the words.
"No. Fortunately for him, he can only afford to live in a shack on the lousy salary your old man pays him. It's only about seven feet high. He just bruised his knees a little."
"Then there was no harm done."
"Hey! It's the principle of the thing."
He signaled to one of his goons who approached with a blanket that was tossed over her shoulders.
"Don't want any cops to stop us on the way back to town." said Gamal, indicating that she was to ride with him.
She straddled the bike and felt the engine charge to life.
They rode through the woods, and she looked in vain for some sign of the group who had so recently terrorized her. But she saw nothing. Simply the underbrush and foliage of a typical woodland scene. Which also confused her. How far had she come that night? She began to fear that she might never find the answer, as if she might be a character from one novel cast adrift on the landscape of an entirely different genre. Or perhaps like a bookworm, digging a straight path through the space of several in a row, touching each world in seemingly random fashion.
The ride to town was uneventful, though she recognized no landmarks until they were nearly back to the point where the entire bizarre situation had begun--!
My God! This was ... was it? YES!! It was! It was the street where they had first grabbed her, and there was David's hotel.
David. Never had he seemed to be such a shelter in a storm. Never did she want to feel his hands holding her as much as she wanted to feel them now.
It was approaching, closer, almost there ... right here was where they had snatched her. If all this was to be reversed, now was the time to do it.
The bike was forced to slow down for a garbage truck making its early rounds.
Slow enough to simply slip off the back, taking care not to let the blanket fall off.
She ran.
"HEY! COME BACK HERE!! "
But they were just voices now, and no longer could control her.
She ran and ran and after what seemed like an eternity, she found herself talking to the doorman of the hotel, begging him to let her in, to just call David's room and get him down to verify her story.
He placated her, but would not take her seriously.
"Why don't you believe me?" she screamed.
"It's not that I don't believe you lassie, it's just that there's nothing that I can do just now."
"Why not?" she demanded.
"It's not time yet," he said vaguely and returned to the book he had been reading.
"What do you mean it's not time yet. Call his room, he knows me, he was expecting me. Why won't you answer me?"
"Lassie, when it's time, all things come to pass."
She stared at him in horror. He was making no more sense than the blonde in the woods had.
Oh no, she thought, it was still going on. She was close, almost back, but still wasn't realigned enough to be able to comprehend the simple flow of logic....
What had Gamal said. You can analyze, or you can do.
She did.
Yep. Right into his balls.
How come this isn't used more often, she wondered as he went into the now familiar horizontal dance.
Leaving him to his pain, she raced inside. Her blanket fell slightly off her shoulders and one of her breasts fell out.
The desk clerk stared in awe. "David Fenton please."
The desk clerk just stared at her and looked past her to where the doorman was struggling to his feet.
"Please, just ring David Fenton's room. He'll explain everything!"
The doorman was pointing at her through the glass door, was yelling something to the desk clerk and pointing at her.
The clerk looked quite confused. This sort of thing was not a usual late shift happening.
"Uh, right," he said uncertainly, still looking at the doorman.
"Please, just ring him up and tell him that Sheila Grant is in the lobby and needs to see him at once."
The desk clerk consulted the room cards, looked back at her, and picked up the phone.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but there's no David Fenton listed here."
Then he heard a voice in the receiver.
"Yes, please send a car."
Sheila's eyes grew wide with panic.
"NO! Not the police!! "
"Please ma'am, if you'll just calm down, I'm sure all of this can be straightened out. Elsewhere . We have a hotel to run. And I'm afraid you just don't fit in."
A flashing blue light cut its way down the street and a police car screeched to a stop.
Two officers came into the lobby.
It was Toody and Muldoon.
"Oh noooooo," said Sheila.
"Well, well, well, what have we here? What's the matter little lady, haven't you found your clothes yet?"
"Leave me alone!! ! " she shrieked and before they could grab her, she threw the blanket over their heads and bolted from the lobby. On her way past the doorman, she gave him another swift kick in his balls just for good measure, and because it felt good to be able to strike back once in a while.
She ran.
Naked in the early morning streets, she ran.
She had no idea where she was going.
She felt the hands of bums and derelicts reach for her as she passed endless lines of parked cars, their metallic finish gleaming under the street lamps.
A gang of street toughs chased her for a few blocks, but she slipped into an alleyway, hid behind a garbage can and the pack tore on past her.
She stayed there a long time. Occasionally, a patrol car would cruise past, searchlights exploring whatever nooks and hidden pockets could be exposed from the car, but they seemed to be doing it in a mechanical way, not really interested in finding her, simply going about the methodical steps of the search.
"Pssssst!"
She looked up. What had that been? "Pssssst."
She heard it again.
"Who's there?" she asked in a shaky voice. A slim figure appeared out of the shadows. Sheila felt faint.
It was the lady from the glade. The lady who had helped tie her up.
"Stay away from me!" she cried, but was calmed somewhat by the soft tone of the lady's voice.
"Don't worry, we'll not hurt you now." Sheila noticed that she was wearing one of the gowns that she'd seen heaped by the edge of the clearing when she'd first stumbled upon them.
It was beautiful, a soft shimmering kind of material that looked as though it would be totally sheer, but which showed nothing of the lady's body beneath.
She was holding another gown just like it in her hands.
"Here, it's time you put some clothes on."
Sheila took the offered gown, hesitantly, but then realizing that she was growing very cold from the night air, she slipped over her head and shoulders. It was a perfect fit. And despite its thin appearance, it was very, very warm.
"Thank you," she said to the lady, who smiled, and simply walked back into the shadows of the alley from which she had appeared. Sheila felt no desire to pursue her.
"I've got to get out of here," she said, to no one in particular.
Out on the street again, she walked in the first direction that came to her.
Nothing looked familiar. These were streets she'd never dreamed of, hiding people whose lives she could scarcely imagine.
And yet, at this hour, she was one of them.
And she felt them all around her, watching her, like animals in a forest watching a hunter. But here, she was the hunted.
She heard footsteps.
Racing.
She started to run.
The footsteps speeded up, came closer.
She broke into a full sprint but it was too late. He was upon her.
"Let go of me!" she screamed.
"I'll let go of you my sweet little girl, when I've had me way with you."
She turned around and saw that it was just one of the many bums who lurked in the dark pockets along the sidewalks in the early hours before dawn.
"Please, I haven't done anything to you." she implored, to no avail.
He clamped a hand over her mouth and soon pushed her into a dark doorway, knocked three times, and they shoved her inside when a dim smoky light appeared in the crack.
"Well, well, so this is the one, is it."
"One what," asked Sheila. "Hey," he cautioned, "none of that."
"None of what. Listen, you've got the wrong person, I just want to go home." He looked confused.
"Look, this wasn't in the script. Now what's going on?"
"What script? Listen, please, my name is Sheila Grant and I'm lost and just want my momma."
"Well, would you listen to that. She's lost and wants her momma."
Sympathetic noises came from all around her. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light she saw that the room was filled with men.
"Listen, we made all this clear to Hank. Now look, what's the problem?"
"I'm telling you, you've got the wrong person."
"Right. You were supposed to act like we'd gotten you confused with someone else, but you're missing all your lines."
He threw up his hands in disgust.
"You can't trust anyone anymore.
"Would you just tell me what you were expecting?"
He looked at her like she was demented.
"Come on, what's so hard about this. We hired you so you could ... well, come on, you know what you do. But you gotta stick to the script. It's the way we want it, and we're paying. OK?"
"No! Not OK. I'm not the person you hired."
"Right, right, that's here ... " he consulted a sheaf of typed pages, "on page seven. But you're not doing it right. Look, I thought you were going to rehearse this."
"I'm telling you, I'm not what you think. You think I'm a hooker, right? Boy, did you get a wrong number. Look, I'm telling you the truth, no one gave me any money, and I don't know anything about any script."
"You mean you didn't even get paid yet? That bastard Hank, he said he'd take care of you and we could settle with him later."
"Well shit, maybe she'd cooperate if we paid her," offered a face half hidden by smoke.
"Sure, that sound OK to you, honey?"
Before Sheila could answer, someone else brought up the fact that she still didn't seem to know anything about the script.
"OK, so we'll improvise."
He grinned at Sheila. She noticed that several of his teeth were missing.
"You're an actress, right honey? So you should be able to do improv, right?"
She started to get really scared. They weren't going to let her out of this. Why did she have to stumble into this warp? Why not a pleasant romance, or even a western. No, she had to fall into a room of drunken perverts who could only get their rocks off through some kind of ritualistic play. Too weird!! ! Hands were on her.
She fought back but knew that it was useless.
Someone reached out to the front of her gown and tore it right down the middle.
"Oh, God please let me go!! " she cried as her breasts popped into view.
Then hands were at her shoulders and she was being pulled backwards.
She felt the edge of a table digging into her buttocks and then her whole body was pushed over onto the table top.
The group of cruel leering males clustered around her, holding her down.
They forced her long legs open, holding them at the ankles and spreading them widely.
She looked down the length of her body, and saw them lining up.
They sure didn't waste any time getting into the improv side of things. She wondered what the script had sounded like.
She watched the man unzip his pants and produce a big hairy cock. It was already growing hard, but a few quick strokes with his fist and it was straight as a spear.
"Spread 'em wide, boys, I'm gonna plug this one right down the throat, sort of."
Then he fell on her. With a heavy grunt.
Sheila screamed as she felt the cock rip into her pussy without even trying to lubricate itself with her juices.
Hard into her!
All the way to the bottom where it bounced back and pulled nearly all the way out, only to plunge back inside her again.
"OH, IT HURTS. PLEASE BE GENTLE."
That only made them laugh.
Someone slapped her breasts, and the welts raised by the whip stung anew.
She rolled from one side to the other as the hard cock fucked her pussy like an insane steam driver.
In and out, in and out.
Out and in, out and in.
Harder.
Deeper.
Ever deeper it thrust again and again and again.
Down, down, all the way till the head of his cock stuck right into the back wall of her cunt, then back out, down again, out, in, out, in, out, in, out, in.
That continued for a long time. Then she felt him start to shiver and quake and she knew he was getting ready to come. Men always felt the same when they were getting ready to come.
Instinctively, almost as a reflex, she began to work his cock with the muscles in the walls of her pussy, sending rippling motions back and forth in delicious waves that stroked the length of his prick.
That was all it took.
He came like a fiend. like the fiend he was.
Massive bursts of Jism ripped through her cunt, filling her almost as much as his cock itself had filled her.
Her cunt chamber felt like a water balloon.
Her pussy lips felt like they were made of sand paper.
She cried.
She moaned.
She groaned.
She begged for him to stop, but still he fucked her, driving his cock in and out of her until the very last drop of cum and been squeezed out of his empty balls.
He collapsed in a dead heap on top of her. "Well, she sure did old Charley in, didn't she?"
"You can tell a real pro every time."
"Ain't that the truth. It's something in their eyes. I could see it in this one as soon as she walked into the room."
Then, the next in line stepped up.
He had a leering grin and wasted no time getting his cock out of his pants.
Her pussy had been stretched and lubricated enough by this time that she had no trouble letting him slide into her.
"Please, go gently," she begged, but he just laughed at her.
"Smelly Lars, he don't go slow for no woman," he declared loudly and jammed his throbbing cock into her.
She squirmed madly on the table, but the restraining hands held her fast.
In and out, in and out with a vicious pace that left her dizzy.
She felt that someone had flipped him to automatic and he was just going on blind energy.
In and out, in and out.
Harder and harder.
And then he was coming in her, spilling his jism all over her thighs.
"Please, no more," she begged, but looking down through her breasts, she saw another cock falling out of its pants and then felt another one rubbing over her face.
"Suck it," she was ordered.
She took it into her mouth, biting down hard when she felt her pussy filling up with another hard cock.
In and out of her mouth.
In and out of her cunt.
Both holes were filled to capacity.
She could hardly breath, The cock in her mouth was too big for her to take all of it in, and each time it slammed into the back of her throat, she felt like she was gagging.
"I can't breathe," she managed at last, but they just ignored her.
Harder, harder, both cocks fucking her madly now, in and out, deeper and deeper until she felt both unloading their white liquid, burning and boiling, into her mouth and pussy.
"Please, let me go. Please let me go," she begged.
But another cock was at her cunt now.
"I think I'll fuck this sweet little ass-hole," he said after five or six deep thrusts into her pussy.
He pushed her legs even higher, curving her back so that her ass was raised high into the air
Then he began to probe with his cock, pushing through the tight ring of muscle. It hurt.
It hurt so bad that she started to cry all over again.
"STOP, STOP, STOP!! ! " She screamed. "You might as well cut that shit out, honey," said a voice. "Ain't no one can hear you in here."
But she had to scream. It was the only response left her.
"Boy, look at her suck up that cock," said a voice.
"Yes, if there was ever an ass that liked to be fucked, it's this sweet ass here."
"Yeah, well, how about those tits?"
"What about them?"
"I want to fuck them."
"You'll damn well wait your turn."
In and out of her ass-hole, stretching it far beyond its natural limits without mercy.
She screamed.
She writhed beneath the hands that held her down.
Still the cock worked her over.
Would he never rome, she wondered.
In and out, in and out, deeper and deeper, till she had no feeling left.
She wasn't used to being fucked in the ass, and didn't like it at all.
It felt rough and harsh.
But the man fucking her sure liked it.
"Nice tight ass-hole here," he commented, but then must have gotten tired ot it because he was back in her pussy before too long, and then she felt the convulsions ripping through his body as he too spilled his cum all through her pussy.
Cocks appeared over her head.
"Stroke 'em, sweetheart."
She obeyed, purely out of fear.
She reached her hands up as far as she could and grabbed hold of two that were closest to her.
She wrapped her fingers around the hard shafts and started to stroke hard back and forth.
She felt them swell even larger as she did so, felt them get so hard she was afraid they would explode.
Which they did, but in the usual sense.
Thick white globs of cum rushed out of the pricks and landed squarely on her face with a heavy splat-t!
Then, the heads of them were spreading the cum all over her cheeks, into her mouth, her nose, her eyes.
"Next!" called a voice, and two more cocks appeared over her face to replace the two that she had just jerked off.
Meanwhile, another cock was in her pussy.
Cocks without end, amen, she thought.
An ocean of cocks, a river of cum.
And all of it flowing into her.
She pulled hard at the hard cocks, pulled back and forth, stroked the heads and then squeezed the shafts.
She played with their balls and jerked on their cocks some more, and soon heard more sharp gasps as the tiny mouths opened and let out still more of the sticky goo.
All over her tits, this time, right on top of her nipples, like whipped cream on top of two scoops of ice cream.
"Now lick it off," she was directed.
She reached down to her breasts and pushed them up towards her face. They were more than large enough to stretch across the span and she fed a nipple into her mouth.
The cum tasted hot and salty. She licked first one nipple then the other clean, just in time to feel the cock in her pussy explode with another load of jism in her.
"How much more?" she asked.
"Listen to that Charley," said someone. "She's improvising real good, don't you think?"
Charley slapped her on the ass. "A real trouper."
"I told you, you can tell a pro every time."
"I'm not a pro. How many times do I have to tell you idiots that?"
"That's OK, darling, after tonight, you will be."
Loud laughter at this. "I want to fuck her tits."
"Go right ahead."
"Lord love a duck, look at how they just fold right around him."
"It's like fucking a pillow."
"Yeah, but one that fucks back."
They all laughed at that too.
Sheila's body felt like a pin cushion, so many cocks had speared her.
She was on fire.
Finally, she felt her cunt beginning to quiver, felt the tension gathering in her legs and her thighs, felt the tiny bud of her clitoris respond.
She was coming now.
Coming in a blizzard of agony and ecstasy.
She was hopelessly lost on a fine plane of sexual tension, finally getting the release she craved.
Cock after cock fucked her, and all brought her to orgasm.
Again and again they penetrated her body.
"She's loving it, let's give her some more." yelled someone enthusiastically, and she offered no resistance.
Finally, it was dawn, and they let her up.
She pulled the tattered remnants of her gown around her and staggered to the door.
"Thanks a lot honey." said someone, stuffing a wad of bills into her hand.
She mumbled something, wandered out the door and again faced the street.
CHAPTER NINE
Sheila stumbled down the streets with no idea where she was going.
All the buildings looked strange, all the faces were the faces of strangers. She felt that somehow, her life had left her stranded on an alien plane somewhere else in the universe, disguised to 'look' like what was familiar to her but in reality, something totally different.
She was very conscious of the fact that her body was almost totally exposed in the tattered gown she was wearing.
I need clothes, she thought dimly to herself.
She also needed coffee.
She walked into the first coffee shop that she found open. It was still pretty early in the morning and there were few people in there.
Nonetheless, she was conscious of every eye in the place becoming instantly riveted to the large round folds of her breasts rolling through the tattered material of her gown. Her legs were exposed nearly to the tops of her thighs and there was a large tear along her stomach.
She sat down with an exhausted plop.
A waitress came over and looked her up and down.
"What's you need, honey?" she asked, sounding sympathetic to her obviously pathetic plight. "I'll just have some coffee," Sheila mumbled.
"You look like you could use a whole lot more than coffee, dear."
Sheila looked up at her and without being able to control herself at all, started crying.
"Come on now, honey, you'll be all right. What happened to you?"
Sheila tried to answer her but couldn't force any words through the tears.
The waitress looked around back at the cook behind the counter and shrugged her shoulders in a quizzical gesture.
The cook nodded towards the back, indicating that the waitress should take Sheila back there till she'd calmed down.
Lead by the hand, almost unconscious of what was happening to her, Sheila stumbled through the counter and went back through the kitchen to an office.
"Here, dear, you just lay down and take it easy. You'll be all right."
She watched Sheila as the girl collapsed onto the couch.
"You could sure use some clothes, couldn't you?"
"Wha ... ? Oh, yeah, I guess this is a little torn."
"Torn? Hell honey, its almost on you."
"I had an accident."
"What were their names?" Sheila gave the lady a sharp glance. "What do you mean?"
"Dear, you look like you've been worked over by the Second Marines. What happened to you?"
"It's been a long night. I can't even remember all of it."
The waitress nodded sagely, as if remembering similar experiences of her own.
"Honey, you just lie there and get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"I feel like it too."
She heard the waitress walk out, and almost at once, her eyes started to droop and get heavy, her muscles began to unwind and shake from exhaustion and she was, for the first time in her life, aware of the shape of her brain resting inside her skull.
Can't think, can't think. She was scared, but had no idea what to do. She'd call her home later. Right now, there was this couch, and it was soft and she was so tired she couldn't keep her eyes opened if she'd wanted to.
Which, she didn't.
But her sleep was fitful, restless, disturbed by visions and haunting images from the night she'd just gone through.
She woke up with a start, a jerking jolt of a frightened shock.
Her skin was bathed in a cold sweat, her blood pounded in her ears.
There had been hands on her.
Hot, curious probing hands, roaming freely over her body. She had been bound and gagged, tied securely in a bent over position with clever knots that grew tighter the more she struggled. And her body had been forced to bend at a sharper and sharper angle.
In her dream, they were all there, Gamal, Sanders, Toody, Muldoon, the ladies by the glade, the men in the dark smoky room....
All had been gathered around her in a circle.
They all held long whips in their hands.
One at a time, they took turns each giving her just one stroke of their whips.
Going he whole circle around, so that each time a lash fell on her, it did so from a slightly altered angle, flaying just a little bit more of her smooth ass that by now was arched high in the air.
Pain!
Unending pain, rising higher and higher inside her body.
Again and again the whips fell with relentless precision.
Had it been real, her already savaged flesh would have come close to falling off from such brutal treatment, but in her dream, her whole body was one smooth unblemished sheet of skin.
Skin that was soft.
Skin that was sensitive.
Skin that easily showed the welt raised by each brutal stroke.
"Why?! ! ! ! WHY!! ! ? " she screamed in her agony. Would they never leave her alone? Would they pursue her right into her dreams. Into the very depths of her mind itself?
"Haven't you learned yet?" asked the tall muscular blonde she'd ridden off with on the horse.
"Learned what."
"We're a part of you. We're simply from your mind in the first place."
That made no sense to Sheila, but then, burning with pain as she was, there was little she could do to think clearly anyway.
They continued their abuse without let up, each time striking her harder and harder until she had been pushed to the very edge of her endurance.
She felt herself going, felt her mind start to unravel, felt her body rebel in one final burst of anger before the total final collapse.
She was going, was being consumed by the pain as if by a fiery furnace.
Going, going....
And then she woke up.
But the feeling of the whip, the heavy hands, the image of those cold staring eyes continued to hold her in a deathgrip.
She was shaking.
She was bathed in a cold sweat.
She was scared. But she was safe.
Safety! It seemed so unnatural, somehow.
And also ... a little boring.
There was something about walking on the edge, straddling that line between predictability and chaos that made her feel alive.
Perhaps that was part of her confusion.
She had been brought to the very edge of the rational world, had been forced blindly over the line and had spent far more time than she cared to remember solidly entrenched on the other side.
And now, in some small way, she had returned, yet was conscious of having left a part of herself there.
A part that wanted to be there.
That wanted to be tied up.
To be whipped.
Violated!
Abused!
Was she still mad? Was it still a dream? Was there another room, further down the hallway where she still slept soundly, where she still dreamed, where she dreamed of exactly this place, this instant, this collection of random events?
Indeed, was there a dream that could somehow wrap this entire night into meaningful package, that would allow her to simply awaken, recall with wonder, and then dismiss the whole thing as weirdness of the mind?
Suddenly, she wanted it to be so. Of course she did! How many of us have at one time or another in our lives wished to suddenly find ourselves sitting upright in bed, in a darkened room, and find that all the pain and troubles were already fading into the dim channels of the subconscious from which they first spilled? Most of us, probably.
That was how Sheila felt. But she had gone one further. She had somehow managed to bring the dream reality back with her, had turned the real world into real time.
But what had happened to her real world? The world of her parents, of David, the world where she was simply a privledged young lady, waiting calmly for her social position and inherited wealth to open the proper doors, let her walk calmly through room after room of her life in a carefully planned progression?
She remembered the scene in the hotel.
Where had David gone? That was the first mystery that needed to be cleared up. Then, she would call her parents.
Were they worried about her? Did they even know she'd been missing for an entire night.
One night?! !
It seemed like a lifetime. And she had grown a lifetime's worth too.
She could feel it. Her body shivered, not just with fright and exhaustion, but with a sense of being charged, of having been renewed, revitalized.
She had passed through the flames, and maybe she'd been singed a little around the edges, but she was still intact, at least as far as she could see.
She was air
That was what was important. They hadn't done her in. They hadn't beaten her.
She had beat them! Yes! She had won. Maybe she didn't know that she'd been competing, but she saw that now. They had tried to take her sanity and her life away from her.
But she had them both still! And she was free!
Free in a way that no one can understand unless they too have been placed in mortal fear of their lives. There is a certain calmness about them, a certainty about their actions and thoughts that comes from knowing that they'd thrown the best they'd had to offer at her, and it still hadn't gotten her.
They had tried. She wondered for a moment at her use of the word 'they'.
Who were 'they'? Why did she think of them as being some kind of a unit?
Mainly because that how she thought. She had found none of them to fit into any kind of planned, logical progression of events. There were still a lot of loose ends.
But she was a changed person. Because she had survived, she knew she would survive again. And again.
She was starting to feel a little more like herself.
She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to cry.
She wanted to go home.
There was a telephone on the desk of the office. Picking it up, she dialed the number of her parent's house, breathlessly she waited for an answer.
The ringing continued in her ear, each neutral buzz adding to her sense of frustration.
Why won't they answer, she screamed to herself. Where are they?
Thinking she may have dialed the wrong number, she tried again.
Again the unbroken string of empty sounding buzzer filled her ear.
No answer.
No hope.
She was alone.
Near panic now, she called the hotel where David was supposed to be. She'd been told the night before that he didn't exist. Perhaps she was in another world now. Perhaps he'd been spirited back as easily as he'd been spirited away.
She asked the desk clerk to connect her with David's room.
She held her breath, expecting at any moment to hear that there was no one by that name listed in the hotel.
But then she heard a click as the line was connected. She heard another phone ringing, waited, then, almost unbelieving, she heard someone answer and say in a sleepy voice, "Hello."
"David?"
"Sheila?" He sounded confused. "David, is that you?"
"Uh, yes ... I think so. What time is it?" He yawned.
