enovel Campaign Promise Paul Brinkley [Future Story Codes]

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Campaign Promise ....(95k)    by Paul Brinkley

Oh God, what was she to do? If she didn't submit to her campaign manager's sexual desires she just knew he was ruthless enough to ruin her prospects of becoming elected.

Reluctantly, she unhooked her brassiere, her head hanging in shame as her full, satiny breasts fell loose and she heard Armando's sharp intake of breath. She eased her panties over her lush hips and stood before him totally naked...

INTRODUCTION

Does the end really justify the means?

In the world of politics, this age-old question is really put to the test; in fact, is often stretched to the outer limits of its concept. Even if the "end" is for the purported good of the people, if the means involved to obtain it involve chicanery and trickery, can they be in any way justified?

That raises another point, 'viz'; given the state of the political arena in this country to-day, it's almost impossible to reach public office without a great deal of money, promotion, and skullduggery. If the contender who sees public life as a way to improve the system refuses to get involved in a slick, media-oriented campaign, or to whitewash his or her opinions or gloss over his or her stance on important issues, then that candidate stands little chance of ever getting elected.

Sandra Halston, the political ingenue who is the heroine of this new book by Paul Brinkley is faced with this problem as she begins on the long road to what she sincerely wants to be an altruistic career. But she discovers the grime beneath the glitter and has to make sacrifices that she would never have thought of making, in order to even get started).

Her dedication to her burgeoning political career causes her to be tricked and abused by her unscrupulous campaign manager, who cruelly forces her to indulge in one degrading act after another. The incredible culmination, which involves her in a situation so bizarre that she finds it almost unbelievable, ultimately teaches her something about her own passions -- not to mention the political system -- and makes her realize that her own physical desires are just as important as the needs of her constituents.

So her heartbreaking sacrifices pay off and she is elected, and stands ready and willing to serve the people. But the means which got her there -- have they already corrupted her and made her less idealistic than she had been at the beginning?

There is no going back, only forward, and we, the publishers, shake our heads over the sight of this not so innocent lamb who goes so confidently to the slaughter of public life.

-THE PUBLISHERS

CHAPTER ONE

Sandra Halston puts the people first.

The words on the brightly colored banner seemed to jump out from their bright blue background, dazzling Sandra as she stood back admiringly.

I know I'm being vain, she told herself, but she still hadn't gotten over the thrill of seeing her name in print, and hadn't been able to resist hanging up the banner that carried her slogan in her living room. After all, it wasn't so very long since she had been just another Political Science major at State University, and now here she was, running for Alderman on the Baltimore City Council. Or should that be Alderwoman, or better yet, Alderperson? Anyway, she was running, and determined to win, and even though it might be misconstrued as conceit to have her own campaign poster in her own apartment, it did serve as a constant reminder of her intentions.

Because she was, first and foremost, for the people. She was running on a platform of integrity, compassion and responsiveness, and when she was elected, she was going to keep her campaign promises, and show her constituents that she meant what she said; that she could be trusted.

But the tall, attractive brunette was tired. Today had been another long day of speeches, door to door canvassing, and meetings, interspersed with the endless shaking of many hands and introductions to numberless persons, most of whom she had already forgotten. She was glad to be alone now, trying to relax after the tensions of the day. She knew that at any time, the phone might ring, and someone would ask her yet another question. Worse still, it might be Armando Valdez, her campaign manager, with another meeting she just had to attend, or another important personage that she had to meet. The man was indefatigable, and he expected her to be the same. But she had to admit that he was a real political pro, and he knew how to put her across in the right way.

Sandra settled herself on the plush-covered sofa, sipping on a Campari and Soda, as she glanced now and again at the banner on the opposite wall. She didn't dare have anything stronger to drink, as she had a "working breakfast" at 7:00 a.m. the following morning with members of the Maryland Women's Political Caucus, and directly after that, another back-breaking round of activities.

Just as well the election's in less than two weeks, or I'd never make it, she thought ruefully, at the same time admitting to herself that she really loved it all, and wouldn't trade a minute of it. Politics were her life -- to the exclusion of virtually everything else. Family, friends, hobbies -- even boyfriends -- had to take second place to the consuming interest in her life.

She couldn't recall when her political coming of age took place. Her father had served two terms as City Councilor and it seemed to her that her whole life had centered around City Hall and what was happening there. Even conversation at the dinner table in the Halston household invariably revolved around the Mayor, what propositions were on the agenda, what had happened at the monthly meetings.

She was certainly the most dedicated student and activist in her class at college. Sometimes, she'd irritate her friends by her relentless political arguing, her complete obsession with State and Government affairs. She had lost several boyfriends through her single-mindedness. Mostly, she didn't care. There was time enough for that later. But Rick -- his betrayal and desertion of her really hurt. He was a classmate of hers, and they had attended many meetings and rallies together. I suppose I was in love with him, she sighed now, twirling the cubes of ice around in her glass. But it wouldn't have worked out -- she knew that now. For one thing, he was a real radical, who really believed that things could be achieved by violence.

"You're just masquerading as a liberal," he had stormed at her one day as she refused to condone what had happened at one of the student rallies. "In reality, you're a moderate, if that!"

"At least I'm not a terrorist!" she had shot back, wounded by his words. She was a liberal, but he just couldn't see that no good was achieved by encouraging the students to turn on the police. After all, they were the people, too.

"What we've got to fight is the big corporate machine," she had urged, vainly trying to persuade him that in the game of "them" and "us", he had labelled the wrong people "them."

But it had been no use. By degrees, their relationship had withered, mostly under the force of his contempt for her pacifism, and even before graduation, they were no longer seeing each other regularly. Of course, their opposing political views weren't the only problem between them. Rick also believed, and told her so often, that she was a relic from the Ice Age, sexually. He just couldn't believe that -she didn't feel ready for sexual relations with him or anyone else.

"This is 1973", he'd rage, anger at her obstinacy and desire for her tall, shapely body battling within him and paling his usually dark features. "What are you saving it for, anyway? The millennium?"

But she hadn't given in to him, or to anyone else, until Chad. Even now, a blush suffused her pale, ivory skin and she felt a flush creeping over her. Why was she thinking of this now? She hadn't really thought about Rick, her college boyfriend, for ages, and as for Chad -- she had put him out of her mind completely -- had barely thought about him at all since that eventful summer just after graduation. Two years! It was two years since Chad, and she hadn't looked at a man since. Not that she'd had time, because that summer with Chad, when she'd been a campaign worker for the present Governor, had lead directly to her being on the campaign trail herself. No, she hadn't time for men now; besides, what had happened with Chad had made so deep and wounding an impression on her that she didn't think she'd ever recover.

' Besides, she truly felt that she was one of those women who was born to be a career woman -- to devote herself to her job -- which, in her case, meant devoting herself to a lifetime of service in the cause of the people. She would make a definite contribution, and at the same time, have a full satisfying life. Thank goodness all the changes brought about by the Women's Movement made her choice easier and more acceptable, and people were beginning to accept the idea that a woman who didn't opt for a house and husband wasn't some kind of misfit or freak. She was secretly a feminist, agreeing wholeheartedly with most of their tenets, but she knew it was wise not to emphasize that particular leaning when she was making her campaign speeches. She didn't always think that way, but Armando, her manager, soon put her right on that score.

"You know what most of your constituents, the ones who are gonna get out there and vote for you, think of your goddamn Women's Liberation?"

And before she had a chance to answer, he had made an extremely obscene gesture, which had shocked her unbelievably. But that was when she didn't know Valdez really well and he had just taken over as her manager. And she had to admit that he was right -- he usually was, because he really knew what he was doing -- as far as running a campaign was concerned, he was the best.

I think I will have another drink, she thought, otherwise I'll never get to sleep. Physically tired as she was, the adrenalin was still coursing through her system after the excitements of the day, and she didn't want to spend half the night tossing and turning before she finally drifted off -- not with that 7:00 breakfast meeting in the morning.

She didn't even need to look at her speeches for tomorrow. Armando assured her that it was better to give essentially the same talks each time, making small changes to suit the occasion. Sandra could see the sense behind this. It was a good idea to have certain phrases and words continually associated with her, such as "Halston for Honesty", the way all the politicians did.

Armando put it a little differently.

"Look, most people are real assholes. You gotta give them the same spiel over and over, or else they'll forget what you stand for!"

And once more, he was right. What with Mark Blake, the incumbent's slogan, "Blake for Basics" and her rival, Jack Wright's "Vote Right, Vote Wright", it paid to impress her name and phrases on the people, too. Valdez had been smart in selecting a simple but different catchphrase for her. "Sandra Halston puts the people first" had a definite ring to it, besides emphatically stating where she stood.

"There's such a thing as being too cute," Armando had warned her, referring to her rivals' catchy jingles, and Sandra had to admit to herself that her manager's methods were working. Surveys showed her catching up, which was quite a feat for a newcomer, especially as she was running against a stable, if not overly popular incumbent. She and Valdez weren't too worried about Jack Wright, who seemed to be something of a last ditch effort by certain groups, bent on splitting the vote and keeping Blake, the incumbent, in office, and so far, he hadn't made much of a showing. No, Jack Wright, who didn't seem to have any sound political base, was no real cause for concern. But Mark Blake was another matter. He was --

Here Sandra checked herself. She wouldn't think about her main opponent, the present holder of the office she wanted. Time enough to worry about that tomorrow. She had better try to get to sleep, Armando probably wouldn't call now. Even he wasn't inconsiderate enough to call her out after ten p.m.

She finished her second drink in several quick gulps, and with a last lingering look at her blue and white banner, went into the bed room.

God, I'm not looking forward to meeting the Women's Caucus tomorrow, she couldn't help thinking, as she slipped out of her robe, which she had donned after her bath, and pulled on a long cotton nightdress. Chad had thought she was crazy when she had worn a similar gown that night... but she wouldn't think about that, either. I guess I don't have anything to mull over except politics and my only two serious boyfriends, she admitted as she began to brush her shoulder length auburn hair with quick, deft strokes of her bristle brush. She couldn't help noticing how well she looked. Her skin had a kind of translucent glow, and her mysterious green eyes, with flecks of brown, gave her an added look of radiance. Generously curved lips completed her air of sensual allure, which several different men had told her she emanated. Yes, her face, not to mention her shapely figure, with its firm, upswept breasts, narrow waist and gracefully molded hips, continually gave the wrong impression, and when she told her admirers and would-be seducers, sometimes laughingly and sometimes coldly, that she just wasn't interested, they more Often than not accused her of being a tease, or of playing hard to get. Well, she couldn't help it if she had the kind of looks and figure that men liked, she didn't flaunt herself -- she never wore really short skirts, even when they were in the height of fashion, or too-short shorts, or low-cut necklines. It wasn't her fault that the usually demure clothing which she wore couldn't hide the exciting roundness of her buttocks or conceal the outlines of her sharply pointed nipples.

She sighed, hardly aware that she was doing so, and got into bed. Even Armando, the first time he had met her, had opened his eyes wide and whistled through his teeth.

"Man, with a figure like yours, you'll have no trouble. If you play your cards right, the election's yours." And he had laughed in a disgusting, suggestive way. For a moment, she regretted her decision to take him on.

"I don't know what you mean," she answered, her voice icy, her green eyes cold and dangerous. Armando, luckily, had taken the hint, and she was spared any more remarks of that nature from him. Of course, she had known exactly what he meant. But she wasn't interested in that kind of thing. Why, using her looks and general attractiveness -- well, her sex appeal -- to help pull in votes, was as bad as some of the other chicanery that went on behind the scenes, such as bribing, accepting patronage and other illegalities like that. Well, she didn't want any of that. She was running a clean, honest campaign -- Halston for Honesty -- and if that didn't work, well at least she'd have a clear conscience.

But she had to admit, as she tried to settle down comfortably in her large double bed, that she was a bit worried about her breakfast meeting tomorrow. She would really like to have the endorsement of the Women's Political Caucus, as women's votes were really important, but she knew she had been guilty of soft pedalling their favorite issues. It wouldn't be enough for them, she knew, to tell them that she really supported their views, but that her campaign manager insisted that she downplay her opinions on that score. They would want to know exactly how she stood on matters like sexist advertising, not to mention bigger issues revolving around discrimination against women in areas such as credit and loans. She couldn't help shuddering as she recalled a deputation she had received, early in her campaign, from the National Organization of Women. They were real hardliners, she thought, unwilling to accept her generalities, determined to pin her down and then make sure that she followed through on what she said to them. Luckily for her, N.O.W. couldn't endorse a candidate, for fear of losing their non-profit status.

Armando had tried to reassure her about tomorrow's meeting.

"Don't worry -- they'll vote for you just because you're a women. You can tell 'em anything!"

She hoped he was right; she just wasn't looking forward to it at all. It was at times like this that she wondered what possessed her to enter the arena of politics, to put herself on the line the way she had to, to- face and fight haranguing, humiliations, taunts, as well as acclaim.

You're a real political animal -- It was Chad who said that to her, the second day they had been working together. His blue eyes had scrutinized her admiringly, and Sandra had felt herself beginning to succumb to his charm. He liked and agreed with her opinions, and appreciated her intelligence as much as her looks.

When the Governor was elected, he was given the position of aide, and as Campaign Captain, he had taught Sandra a lot about the inside workings of a political machine. The newly graduated Political Science Major was thrilled to land her low-paid, long hours job, against tremendous competition, and she enjoyed every minute of it, drinking in the atmosphere, her brain alert and alive for, she was sure, the first time. She didn't even mind the drudgery of it -- that was all part and parcel of politics, and she accepted it along with the good. And part of that "good" was Chad. Tall and blond, he had some of the charismatic quality of a younger, less rugged Kennedy. Although there were other women involved in the campaign, some second timers, some new grads like herself, Chad seemed to single her out right away, and she was pleased and flattered. He was the antithesis of Rick, who was handsome in a dark, bearded way, and who was always clad in the camouflage, guerrilla uniform of the times.

Chad was what her father would have called "clean-cut", and she found that now that she had graduated from college and was ready to take her place in the adult world, she had outgrown her interest in student revolutionaries. The blond Campaign Captain became her ideal, and she began to arrive at Headquarters earlier and earlier, as much from desire to see him again, as from her political zeal.

Now, Sandra felt more wide awake than ever. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the memories of Chad and that summer after graduation from tumbling unrestrained through her brain. She wanted to forget all about him, to think of nothing, not even tomorrow's appointment filled day, to just drift off into refreshing, oblivious sleep. The effect of the two drinks seemed to have worn completely off, and she was afraid to take another; she wanted to have all her wits about her tomorrow.

She didn't want to think about that final, eventful day that had left such a lasting mark on her. Or of how Chad had changed from the charming, considerate man she thought she knew, to... to...

Even now, two years later, she winced as some masochistic part of her insisted in pulling out and re-examining the events of that unforgettable day -- the day when she lost, irrevocably, she was sure, whatever interest or trust she had in men.

Election day was very close and tensions were high. The gubernatorial candidate insisted on all the workers taking the day off, and Chad had asked her to join him for a quiet picnic out in secluded Western Maryland. Sandra was delighted -- she was sure that a quiet day together, without the worries, and pressures of the campaign would further their relationship, and who knows what might happen. Usually, when he left her home, which he did quite often, he just kissed her tenderly. Sometimes, he embraced her quite passionately, and his lips would cling hungrily to hers, and his tongue would find its way past her teeth and twist around excitedly inside her mouth. Once or twice, his hand had strayed to her breasts, and she discovered that her nipples hardened and strained against his palm, and a quiver of pleasure would course through her. But he never asked to stay, and never forced things when she signalled a mute "no".

As Sandra lay in bed, eyes open in the darkened room, she remembered that the day had been beautiful -- warm and sunny, without a trace of the humidity which made Maryland weather such torture at times. The drive out to the western part of the state was interesting, once they got past the city, and she found the marshy flatlands and wild, empty countryside hauntingly attractive.

Chad had brought the wine, and she had provided cold Cornish game hens, potato salad and strawberry shortcake. She had gone to some trouble, even making the shortcake from scratch. Everything had gone perfectly until the thunderstorm.

What a fool I was, she thought now, unaware that she had pulled herself up into a sitting position and that her shoulders were hunched over self-protectedly. It was like something out of a bad novel -- Chad just "happened to know" that there was an empty cabin nearby, used by duck hunters in the season. They ran hand in hand to it, and it was unlocked.

It was even romantic for a while. Chad built a big fire from sticks and small logs which had been thoughtfully gathered, and Sandra was able to heat up a can of soup which she had found, on the butane gas stove. The rain lashed down in sheets and the crack of thunder and occasional jagged streak of lightning made her nestle closer to Chad as they sat in front of the blazing fire. Her companion had drunk most of the wine, but Sandra wasn't worried, not even when he pulled her roughly to him and began to kiss her hotly with eager, demanding lips. She responded at first, her body reacting to the urgency of his, and she made no objection when his hands began to tighten around the gently palpitating mounds of her breasts.

But when they dipped lower and cupped the rounded arcs of her buttocks, she tried to pull away.

"No, Chad, please... " she murmured softly, confident that once more, he would go along with what she wanted. Her thin, cotton slacks had gotten soaked through right away, but luckily she had been wearing her two piece swimsuit underneath, in hopes of continuing her flattering suntan, and now she was wearing that, and using a blanket they had found in the cabin as a cover-up.

Chad didn't seem to hear her whispered plea, and moments later, before Sandra fully realized what was happening, his hand had slipped inside the bottom part of her swimsuit and was edging down to the warm, secret spot between her legs.

"Stop, Chad! Please stop... " she urged, desperately trying to wriggle out of his strong, unyielding grasp. Seconds later, his fingertips came into contact with the soft curling tendrils of her pubic hair, making her quiver unexpectedly with apprehension mingled with forbidden, unwanted desire.

"NO, CHAD, NO!" she hissed vehemently and there was no doubt that, this time, Chad heard her.

"Whatd'ya mean, no?" he mumbled, and Sandra was horrified to discover that his speech was slurred.

Oh God, was he drunk?

"Please, Chad," she tried again, "I don't want to... "

"You don't want to what?" There was a new, ugly note in his voice.

"I... I don't want you to touch me there!"

"You mean you don't want my hand on your pussy? Is that it?" His hand was now resting lightly on her bare thigh, and his face wore a coldly questioning look.

"Yes, that's it," she said in a small voice, stung by his callous use of the crude word.

"What are you, frigid or something?" he asked, his face reddening ominously.

Sandra said nothing, afraid to look at him.

"What the hell did you come with me for? Did you think we were going to sit there holding hands all day. Don't tell me you didn't know what was going to happen!"

"I didn't," she mumbled unhappily. "I thought... I thought you knew... you understood... "

"Understood what? That you're a stuck-up little bitch, who thinks that her cunt's too good for any guy?"

"How dare you?" she flared, anger making a red spot on each cheek. She didn't know it, but her newly aroused fury caused her beautiful eyes to flash glitteringly and her satiny breasts to heave in excitement, making her look even more alluring to her impassioned companion.

"I'm only telling the truth," he taunted, his eyes fixed lasciviously on the secret crevice made by her firmly fleshed breasts.

"You're drunk!" she said contemptuously, moving further away from him.

"Drunk, am I?" he thundered, a new, murderous expression in his eyes. "Well honey, I'm not so goddamn drunk that I can't get it up, if that's what you're afraid of!"

"You have a filthy mind, if that's what you think!" Sandra gasped, her face pale with horror.

"Hah, I bet you can't wait to see it!"

He was completely transformed, changed from the gentle, loving Chad she knew into a frightening, lewd stranger. His metamorphosis, as sudden and unexpected as it appeared to the unhappy brunette, made her tremble with fear and look desperately toward the locked door. But she knew the rain was still streaming down, and she wasn't even sure where the car was, or where she could run to.

"Look baby, isn't this -what you've been waiting for?"

His words jerked her back from her futile thoughts of escape and she turned to look at the person she now considered her tormentor. Oh God, she couldn't believe it!

A gasp of horror escaped from her lips as she stared at Chad, who was standing in front of the fire, his fully erect penis grasped proudly in his hand!

This can't be happening to me, she thought sickeningly, but yet, horrified as she was, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of his lewdly bulging member, standing up hotly from the golden tangle of his pubic hairs. The blood drained from her face as the seconds ticked by, and she felt herself rooted to the ground in shock and dismay.

"Well, there it is, honey," he exclaimed proudly, his fingers gliding lovingly up and down the thick, throbbing rod. "All ready and waiting for you!"

She moved back instinctively, a glazed, gray look on her face.

"Don't come near me! Don't touch me!" she warned, her voice tremulous.

This must be a nightmare, she consoled herself. It can't be real!

"For Chrissakes! I've got a goddamn hard-on that's ready to explode, and you stand there acting like a prissy virgin. Go on, get that swimsuit off, dammit. I can't wait much longer."

Oh God, Sandra thought desperately, he doesn't know. He thinks...

"Please Chad, let's be sensible. I'm not what you think. I really didn't... don't... I mean I am a... " Sitting up rigidly in bed, Sandra was vividly recalling what happened that day two years before, and the events were as real to her now as if they had only just happened. Her skin felt clammy, and her heart was thudding in fear, almost as if Chad were standing in front of her right now. And yet, she couldn't help herself or stem the tide of her memories which were passing through her mind like a movie over which she had no control.

"Don't give me that crap, honey!" Chad snapped. "What the fuck did you think I was interested in you for?"

This last remark was too much for Sandra. Did all their hours spent working side by side mean nothing to him? Or their long, exciting, exhilarating political discussions? Did he single her out just because he thought she was an easy lay, or because he found her sexual reserve a challenge?

"What do you think is going on at Headquarters anyway? Sure, we're working to win the election, but don't tell me that you didn't know that Jean is fucking Larry, or that Sherry and Bill have been screwing for months!"

Sandra's brain was reeling. Sherry and Bill? Well, she could believe anything of that feather-headed blond, whose only function seemed to be making cups of coffee and stuffing envelopes? But Jean? Sandra recalled the quiet, studious looking girl with straight mousy- colored hair, who seemed so dedicated and serious? Who had, in fact, logged up quite a lot of time, both in this gubernatorial campaign and the mayoral race last year. She just couldn't believe it!

But her pride has been touched, and no one, no one was going to question her integrity.

She tossed her hair back and jutted out her chin.

"I don't care what the others do," she said dramatically, "but I don't sleep around. I've got ideals, even if you don't, and I'm willing to work for what I believe in. I'm seriously interested in the outcome of this election, and I thought that you were too. Now I can see that all you're interested in is... is having sex!"

With the inestimable benefit of hindsight, Sandra realized now that she had taken entirely the wrong tack. Although she didn't realize it at the time, she now knew that she had sounded pompous and pedantic, with her talk about ideals and her moral virtue. Obviously, it would have been far better if she had just broken down and cried. That would have moved Chad, and everything would probably have been all right. But how well she found out about that business of pride going before a fall.

"Damn right, sweetie," Chad had answered, moving toward her again, "and that's just what I'm gonna do now!"

She tried to move away from him, but fear made her powerless to move. With a swift movement, he yanked away her bikini top, and she saw a glint of lust leaped into his eyes at the sight of her helplessly heaving breasts. Any attempt to escape was futile, she knew, but still she couldn't help trying, even though she realized that her resistance was angering him even more. Inevitably, he cornered her, and she could only stand there in mute horror as he pulled down the last vestiges of her modesty, and left her completely naked and vulnerable. She was at his mercy, and he was like some inhuman monster, driven by lascivious, unbridled passion, goaded on and freed from restraint by all the wine he had drunk.

She wanted to scream, but knew it wouldn't do any good. It was no use trying to tell him that she was a virgin, that she really didn't know what he expected to make love to her. It wasn't her fault... he had misled her.

Even then, she might have succeeded in calming him, in making him realize the terrible thing he was doing. But she just wasn't thinking clearly. If she had been, she would never have said what she did.

"Stay away from me, you... you rat. You're disgusting, like a wild animal! Don't you dare touch me!"

She had really gone too far this time.

"I'll show you just how disgusting I am! How like a wild animal!"

His face white with anger, he reached over with one hand and hit her hard on the side of her head.

"Now just do as I say, bitch, or there's more where that came from!"

Then, as she sobbed piteously, he pulled her down onto the coarse rug in front of the slowly dying fire and began to grind his mouth brutally against hers. The blow made her head reel and she knew there was no escape now. Moments later, he forced apart the quivering columns of her thighs, revealing the unprotected furrow of her vagina. She felt him settling between her widespread legs, and she cringed back in fear when she felt the hotly throbbing head of his penis rubbing against her soft inner thigh.

Oh God, she cried silently, help me please...

"Think that tight, stuck-up cunt of yours is ready for this?" he leered, probing her quivering vaginal lips with his rock-hard shaft.

"Oh please, don't," she sobbed, "you'll hurt me... " His only response was to drive hard between her legs, and she felt as if she were being split in two. She cried out in agony, desperately trying to escape from the shattering intrusion, but she was held firm, a helpless victim of his mindless, wine-instigated rape.

"Aaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh! Aaaarrrggg- ggghhhhh!" she moaned again and again, as she felt his hard masculine rod forcing its way up between her painfully spread legs, driving up relentlessly through her virginal inner passage. Oh God, he was tearing her in two, bruising her tender insides with his big thick penis as it seared mercilessly up into her hidden depths.

Tears rolled down her face, but her throat was dry now and no more pitiful sounds came. Her hands were clenched tight, her eyes staring wildly ahead. She could feel his hands tightening almost viciously on her breasts as he began to withdraw his blood-heavy shaft from her lacerated vagina, and she wished fervently that she could pass out. But no such relief came, and she was forced to endure what her mind and body fought against -- a violation that made her shudder with revulsion and caused her to loathe its perpetrator with all her might -- a man who, only a scant hour before, she had been sure she was in love with!

Chad seemed to be oblivious to anything but satisfying his animal passion and as the minutes passed, the whole act was fused for the miserable brunette into one eternity of utter degradation. The sharp, bruising pain that seemed to take possession of her body completely, Chad's coarse pants of passion, the lewd sound of his lustful lovemaking, all combined into a whole that was, for Sandra, the epitome of what the most dreadful, horrendous nightmare must be.

She was being taken forcibly by someone she had trusted and confided in someone that she had considered the ideal companion for her. He had tricked her and then forced her to submit to his base, greedy desires.

Then, moments later, it was all over and she was scarcely aware of it. A strangled cry of triumph from Chad and a few more forceful thrusts signalled it, and then he was lying on top of her, his wildly jerking penis spewing out its heated jets of semen deep up into her belly. Vaguely, she was aware of a new soreness as his sticky seminal fluid flooded her no longer virginal cunt, but she didn't pay too much attention to that; she was just relieved that her ordeal was over.

As the unsavory memories faded, Sandra felt her body beginning to relax, and she was aware of a deeper feeling, almost as if an exorcism had taken place. In a way, it had, because she had fully relived her shattering experience for the first time since it happened. Before this, she had just suppressed her thoughts whenever they strayed in that forbidden territory.

Of course, he had apologized profusely later, and tried to make it up to her. He had blamed his unforgivable behavior on everything from the wine to the weather, but she couldn't really excuse him. He had betrayed her, in the most vile way imaginable, and if she could have reported him to the authorities, she would. But circumstantial evidence was against her. Everybody at Campaign Headquarters assumed they were lovers, and when they avoided each other completely in the week left before the election, their co-workers assumed, if they assumed anything at all, that they had had a lover's tiff.

Gradually, she had gotten over the sick shame and hurt of that experience, although she still had a lingering distrust of men. Who wouldn't after that? she sometimes thought ruefully.

At last, the beautiful political candidate felt she could relax and go to sleep. She felt calm and peaceful, pleased that she had been brave enough to follow her terrible thoughts through. One good thing came out of the whole business, however, she realized. Whether it was from guilt, or a real belief in her ability, Chad, when he had made the position of governor's aide, arranged for her to meet the people who made it possible for her to run for the City seat she wanted. It probably would have happened anyway, she reasoned, because she knew she had talent, stamina, charisma and everything else that is needed for a successful life in politics. But whether it would have happened as quickly, while she was still only twenty-three, was debatable. Since that day, she never spoke to Chad again, and after the election, she never saw him in person. Nor did she want to.

And if she won the election, and became a lady alderman for Baltimore City, she thought it a barely equal return for the loss and violation of her virginity.

CHAPTER TWO

Armando stormed into the inner office of the Halston for City Council Campaign Headquarters, holding a sheaf of unstamped envelopes in his hand.

"I thought I told you, Carole, that these flyers had to go out yesterday! You promised they'd go last night, and today it's probably too goddamn late!"

His swarthy face had darkened slightly more with his anger, and he stood towering over the small desk, untidily heaped with mounds of papers.

Carole looked up unconcernedly, her curly hair a golden cloud around her smiling face.

"Today, tomorrow! What difference does it make, Armando? The way I see it, the closer to the election that they get those things, the better!" Her voice was soft and slightly breathless, and Armando had to agree silently with the logic of what she said.

"Well, see that they go out today. This morning, in fact," he growled, unwilling to drop his aggressive attitude.

"Besides," Carole went on, as if she hadn't heard him, "Sandra told me to go home, when she dropped in last night after that last engagement, and I couldn't very well say 'no', could I?"

"I wonder how she made out at that breakfast meeting this morning? I hope those Women's Libbers didn't give her too hard a time. At least the Equal Rights Amendment has been ratified already here in Maryland," he went on, almost to himself, "and they can't get her on that. Trouble is, women's votes are so damn important now!"

"It doesn't really matter, Armando," Carole said tranquilly, "Sandra doesn't have to worry about the election, because on that day, Jupiter starts -- "

"Cut out that astrology crap, Carole!" Armando interrupted rudely. "If she wins that election, and it's still an "if", in spite of what the surveys show, it'll be because of our goddamn hard work, not because of some damn rubbish about stars and planets." Carole shook her golden head slowly.

"It's not right to be so skeptical, Armando. Why, a friend of mine thought the same way as you do until -- "

"Listen, honey," Valdez once more cut in, "how about some... ah... overtime tonight? Sandra will be going to that testimonial which will probably take up all evening, and we can have the place to ourselves."

"Sure, Armando," the lovely blond smiled again. "It's a good time... I see Venus arrives in Scorpio and that means... " But Armando had already gone out into the other room.

* * *

Sandra was very tempted to go straight home. The testimonial dinner had taken less time than she had expected and she longed for the peace and solitude of her apartment and a blissfully early night. But she was only a couple of blocks from Headquarters, and it was really easier to go there in person, rather than find a phone booth and a dime. Not that there was anything that she really had to check on, but she was afraid that Carole was still working, and she felt a little guilty about that.

The lovely brunette experienced a warm feeling as she thought about her young campaign worker. Several of Sandra's friends had warned her against hiring Carole.

"She's too, uh, you know, spaced out," one had said confidingly. But Sandra found that the young blond's calm, tranquil manner had a contagious effect, and that somehow, when Carole was there, crises seemed less shattering, mistakes more trivial, everything less hurried.

"She probably smokes dope back there... your constituents will smell it when they come in!" Another prophesized awfully.

But Sandra didn't notice anything, and in spite of Carole's seemingly haphazard ways, things did get done, and she had a way of reassuring people who came in to ask questions or get information. Yes, Carole was a great success, in spite of her halo of curls and her long, flowing, flowery dresses. Even her up to date jargon and astrological comments seemed to have nothing but a good effect on anyone who came into Headquarters.

It's a pity Armando gets so irritated with her, Sandra reflected as she started up the car. But luckily his shortness with her didn't seem to bother Carole in the slightest. In fact, she didn't seem to notice it, but kept her smiling equilibrium throughout everything.

But I just hope she isn't working too hard, she mused as she headed toward her campaign office. She really is dedicated, no matter what anyone says. Sandra knew that she was lucky to have Carole working for her. The part-time voluntary workers who came in regularly were wonderful, too, of course, but having Carole there with Armando was what really did the trick. Yes, Armando and Carole... she had the right people behind her. She had been a little worried at first about the fact that Valdez was also managing Jay Ryan, who was on the ticket as well, and who was also running against a second term incumbent. But Armando had convinced her that, far from detracting from what he was doing for her, his double duty worked in her favor. And so far, she had to admit, it seemed that her campaign manager was certainly unstinting in his time and effort on her behalf.

She was lucky enough to find a parking place quite close to the office. Today has gone all right after all, she thought gratefully. That was in spite of some sticky moments at the breakfast meeting with some women from the Women's Political Caucus. As she had feared, they were not satisfied with her pat, vague generalities.

"What I'd like to know, Ms. Halston," one intense-looking young woman with long dark hair and a notebook questioned, "is just where you stand on the issue of discrimination on the basis of sex by money lending institutions?" Sandra chose her words carefully.

"Well of course I believe that anyone regardless of age, race or sex should be entitled to fair credit, providing that person has the proper references and can prove that he or she can repay promptly -- "

"Sure," her vehement questioner pursued impatiently, "but what do you think should be done about institutions that refuse credit simply because the applicant is a woman?"

Sandra felt her temper rising.

She heard Armando's warning words echoing in her brain... whatever you do or say, don't ever lose your temper... but still, she couldn't resist retorting: "Look, if I'm elected, I won't be in a position to affect State legislature. I'm concerned with what's happening in the city, and as I see it, one of the major problems is trying to provide decent jobs for everyone, men and women. Inflation is rampant, schools are badly run, people are looking for work. Let's see that everyone can made a decent living first -- then, we'll worry about credit!"

"But what about the women's issues?" the long haired girl persisted. "What about -- " This time, Sandra felt that she could interrupt.

"Look, I'm a person first, and I'm interested in human rights! Don't forget, we're all in this together, and we all have to work toward making our City a better place to live -- for everyone!"

Several of the women seemed disgusted by her remarks, but she felt that most of them agreed with her. The meeting went somewhat better after that, but still, she was glad when it was all over.

The rest of the day followed the usual pattern -- a round of appearances, meetings, a spot on one of the radio stations, ending with the testimonial dinner. She couldn't help but be glad that the campaigning day was over.

Now she would check and make sure that Carole was no longer working and see if anything had come up since she had telephoned in before the dinner.

If she was lucky, she reflected, she could be home and in bed within half an hour. The thought was very welcome to her and she was right at the door of the Campaign Headquarters before she realized that there was a small streak of light coming from under the inner office door. It was visible through the plate glass front window, and she wondered if Carole had left some sort of night light burning. After all, it was quite late and she was probably long gone. Still, she'd have to make sure...

She let herself in, silently and swiftly and made her way over to the closed wooden door. Opening it deftly, she was just about to pop her head around to make sure the little office was empty, when an obviously impassioned voice rang out clearly: "Oh Christ honey, that's it... that's just the way to do it!"

Hearing the coarsely uttered words had a paralyzing effect on the stunned brunette. Long seconds passed, with no other sound from within, and the horrified candidate wondered if she had imagined what she had heard. But... but it sounded like Armando! she couldn't help thinking. Was he actually in there ? And if he was, what was he doing? More to the point, with whom was he doing it?

Seconds ticked by, and still Sandra hesitated. She wanted to know what was happening in there, yet, she couldn't bring herself to open the door. She didn't know what she might find; she was afraid of what she might find going on in there with Armando and... and?

Another lewd string of words shattered in on the incredulous woman's consciousness.

"Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhh... Oh man, you sure know how to make a guy happy!"

This time, she couldn't wait any longer. Even though she was once more disgusted by the crude sounds, she had to find out what Armando was doing...

Her heart was hammering and she was unaware that she was holding her breath as she turned the handle again and inched open the door.

Hardly daring to look, she eased her body through the small space she had opened, and right away, she saw, in a glance, just what was happening...

Her mouth hung open and she felt as if all the blood was drained from her body. The pounding of her heart sounded like a jackhammer in her ears, and she knew that the sight that met her disbelieving eyes would be forever branded on her memory.

Because only feet away from her, Carole Redding was kneeling, her eyes closed, her mouth ovalled tightly around Armando Valdez's fully erect penis!

Sandra, her eyes glazed with horror, felt as if the room were reeling around her. She continued to stare, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, to believe that Carole, her gentle, angelic young staff member, was down on her knees, slavishly sucking and moving her lips and down on Armando's saliva-coated penis.

She didn't know if she gasped or not; she felt that if she had screamed aloud, the abandoned pair in front of her wouldn't have heard her. They were completely lost in the lascivious world of their illicit act.

Stunned beyond belief, Sandra was still unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of the campaign manager's wetly glistening organ as it disappeared between the young blond's full, red lips. The slow, sensuous in and out motion held her mesmerized, caught her in a web which she couldn't escape. She wanted to leave, but the act she was an unwilling witness to went against the grain completely with her, insulted every fiber of her being. But still, she couldn't stop herself from staring helplessly.

She should close her eyes, at the very least, even if she couldn't bring herself to exit completely from the room and leave Armando and the wanton young girl to themselves, even if they were engaging in a crude, debasing act which repelled her in every way.

But... but she seems to be enjoying it! she couldn't help noticing. A shudder coursed down Sandra's spine as she observed the ecstatic look on Carole's face. There was no question about it -- the excited secretary was delighting in tightening her lips around Armando's palpitating penis, thrilling in feeling it slide in and out of her hungrily sucking mouth, happy to be stroking and caressing his sperm-bloated balls with her long, tapering fingers.

How... how could she? Once more, Sandra shivered in disgust, unable to comprehend how her calm, sweet little employee could actually enjoy the lewd, obscene act she was witnessing. The thought -- maybe he forced her -- flitted into Sandra's mind, only to be dismissed almost instantly. The reality in front of her was too obvious to be discounted. No one was forcing the beautiful blond to her knees, no one was making her sweep her greedily grasping lips so slaveringly along Armando's lust- thickened rod; no one was compelling her to keep up her rhythmic pumping and gentle kneading of his scrotum.

When, seconds later, Carole withdrew her mouth completely from around Armando's hard burgeoning length, and Sandra could see its red, bulbous head, she was too frozen by her tumultuous feelings to move.

At that moment, with only a slight movement of his head, Armando could have seen her, could have discovered that she was a clandestine witness to what he was doing.

But he was too concerned with Carole at that moment.

"W -- what are you doing? Christ! Why did you stop?" he blurted, a look of desperation mingled with barely restrained lust on his desire-darkened features.

"It's all right, baby," Carole crooned in that honeyed voice of hers. "I'm just going to lick and kiss your balls now, and then in a little while, I'll suck your cock again. Suck and squeeze on it until you cum." - "Oh God... " Sandra, listening dumbfoundedly to the vulgar words, spewed so teasingly by Carole's soft, sweet voice, barely heard Armando's hoarse, tortured rasp.

"Will you like that, honey?" the skillful blonde tantalized. "Will you like it when I take all of your prick in my mouth, and then slip my tongue all around it until you're ready to cum?"

Sandra pushed the back of her hand against her mouth; if she didn't, she was sure that she'd have to cry out in shock as she listened to Carole's obscene words. Oh God, it was like some kind of nightmare, a frightening world in which reality, or what she thought was reality, was shifting and changing, making her question her own sanity!

Watching her campaign manager standing there, oblivious to everything but the obvious pleasure he was getting from having his penis kissed and licked in that debased, gross way by the eagerly working young blonde, brought back memories to Sandra of her dreadful experience with Chad. That terrible recollection which she had been unable to stem last night, and from the tyranny of which she was sure she had been finally freed. Apart altogether from Chad's physical violation of her, she also experienced at that time the same rising feeling of panic, when she discovered that things were not what they seemed. Chad hadn't been the courteous, considerate gentleman she had thought he was, and her co-workers in the campaign for the gubernatorial candidate turned out to be completely different from what she imagined. Chad had turned into some kind of lust-maddened monster, and a couple of her girlfriends were immoral and promiscuous.

Now, once more, she was mistaken in her estimation. Her young employee, of whom she had been thinking so warmly less than half an hour previously was completely abandoned to her lewd task of performing oral love on Armando, and he... well, she just didn't know what to think about him. He was attractive, she could see that, and she supposed... well, she was beginning to realize just how little she did know about him. But he and Carole... She just couldn't understand it. He always seemed to be picking on the good-natured blonde, and Sandra had been sure that, if he didn't actually dislike her, he certainly didn't have much time for her. How wrong can you get? she asked herself, as she kept on staring at the unaware couple in front of her, her attention riveted on the way Carole's darting pink tongue was dancing all over the wrinkled, squirming skin of Armando's balls, on how she kept the strong, sturdy base of his penis firm between her gently stroking fingers. Armando's eyes were shut, and his head was thrown back, his face a mask of unadulterated pleasure. His hands were like claws, digging and tearing at Carole's fluffy curls, forcing her tongue and mouth harder against his sensitive male flesh.

What am I doing here? Sandra asked herself suddenly, realizing, for the first time, that many minutes had passed since she first poked her head into the office and discovered her campaign manager and her young employee in their outrageous act. Yes, she was shocked and horrified. But what should she do? It was wrong, what they were doing, but had she any right to interfere? If she made her presence know, the oblivious pair in front of her would certainly be upset and embarrassed, and besides, what good would it do? Also, wasn't she herself, in a very small way, of course, just a little bit guilty, too, because of the way she had stood there gaping like an unwelcome peeping tom? Certainly she had been paralyzed with shock at first, and motion had seemed impossible. But when she had gotten over her initial horror, shouldn't she have quietly closed the door and left them to it, regardless of how she felt about the morality of what they were doing? Failing that, if the whole act really horrified her, and it did, shouldn't she have tried to stop it, to put an end to it, no matter what everyone's feelings might be?

Instead, she had stood there, long after her initial ripples of disgust had subsided, staring in lewd fascination, listening disbelievingly to the coarse words which had passed between them, not missing a second of the lascivious action! What was wrong with her?

Armando interrupted her agonized probing of her motives.

"Christ Carole, I can't stand much more of this... you're driving me crazy!"

Carole laved hungrily as her passion reached new heights. She was determined to bring Armando's thick cock to its ultimate hardness.

He was staring down at the submissively kneeling blonde, his eyes wide and staring, and Sandra, looking on mutely, saw that his palpitating shaft was jerking and twitching with the strength of his passion. It's... it's so big... she couldn't help thinking. Bigger even than Chad's was that time...

A shudder coursed through her, and she became aware of strange new sensations which were beginning to permeate her trembling body.

It's only because it reminds me of that time in the duck hunting cabin, she told herself again and again. It must be...

"All right, baby," Carole murmured, taking her agile tongue away from Armando's rock-hard scrotum. "Now I'm going to start sucking your cock again, and make it even bigger and harder than it is already!" she went on, looking up at him through half-open eyes.

"You'll like that, won't you honey?" she crooned again, as she began to rake her long elegant nails down the length of his hotly pulsing penis.

In spite of herself, Sandra shivered, almost as if she had herself felt fingers on the warm place between her thighs. Oh God, she did feel a moist tingling there, almost as if... as if...

"Oh God Carole, suck it now! Make me cum, for Chrissakes!"

Sandra, still watching in the doorway, clamped her trembling thighs together in an effort to block out the tickling sensation between them which was increasing in intensity with each passing second. Dear God, it was obvious that she should leave, get out of that office as quickly as possible. But somehow, she couldn't. She didn't even know if she wanted to. Something had happened to her. Her shock and initial revulsion had vanished as she continued to watch, and now, she had to cope with more than mere thoughts about her reasons for staying. Insidious ripples were beginning to eddy along her spine, and she realized that her palms were clammy. It was almost as if... as if she was beginning to get excited by the incredible scene between Armando and the lovely young blonde that she was watching. But that couldn't be! Every inch of her being rebelled against even the thought of that, and yet she knew, without doubt, that it was happening to her, because when Carole's full red lips enclosed the red, turbulent rod of Armando's penis, and she began to slide them along its straining length until she had taken almost all of it into her mouth; when that happened, the tiny spark which was flickering up between Sandra's tightly squeezed thighs erupted into a roaring, uncontrollable flame, which leaped up and started to devour her loins completely, leaving her weak and helpless before its onslaught.

It was undeniable; she was beginning to get excited from watching the lascivious oral lovemaking going on right in front of her. In fact, it had gone further than that -- she was already aroused, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Her whole body was trembling and she had to lean against the doorway, or else she would certainly have fallen. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and the sensations deep in her vagina made her want to claw off her clothes, to do anything to assuage the greedy fire demon which was engulfing her trembling body.

The impassioned tension between Carole and the older man whose penis she was so slavishly and hungrily sucking had increased to feverish proportions, and Sandra felt herself swept along irrevocably on the tide of their mounting lust. She just couldn't help herself; she had to do something. Her hands crept up to her quivering breasts and her fingertips began to delicately ripple along their heaving surface as they strained against the cloth of her blouse. Oh God, this is terrible, she told herself, but it didn't do any good. She couldn't bring herself to care about anything at the moment except the realization that the touch of her own hands on her body was soothing her, calming her burning flesh, helping to dim the furnace up between her legs.

In front of her, Sandra could see Armando's blood-heavy penis sliding rapidly in and out between Carole's tightly ovalled lips while her hand pumped and squeezed wildly on his churning balls. The little office was filled with the animal-like sound of his groans of ecstasy, and the wet, sucking sound made by her impassioned slavering mouth and tongue as they worked and writhed to give him the most pleasure possible.

Sandra was now totally hypnotized by what she was watching, but she still continued to stroke her breasts, feeling her turgid nipples burgeoning through the double fabric of her blouse and brassiere, feeling the vibrations of carnal pleasure surging through Her own body. Dear Lord, she could hardly believe that she was doing this -- that she was caressing her own breasts while at the same time she was brazenly watching a lascivious act between her campaign manager and her young employee. But even as she was running her hands wildly over her palpitating breasts, she knew it was not enough, and an irresistible force was drawing one hand down, to insinuate itself underneath the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down like a magnet until it slipped under her panties. Oh God, she couldn't do that! It was wrong, evil', and she remembered the misery and dejection she had felt afterward when she had abused herself that way a few times before. It wasn't worth it, and even it if was, she couldn't, just couldn't do it now, here in the inner office, with Armando and Carole in the same room! She knew they were too wrapped up in their own excitement to notice anything else, but still, it was outrageous that she should even think about it.

But it was too late. She was beyond redemption and her hand finally slipped still lower and into the warm hairy valley made by her quivering thighs. Oh lord, I can't help it, she moaned silently as it came into titillating contact with her moistly heated vaginal lips.

"Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh... mmmmm- mmmmmnnnnnn... " Armando gasped, only a few feet away from her, and it was just as well that he did, because she moaned too, unable to hold back as her own finger began to eagerly explore the wet, petal-soft folds of her cunt, dipping and gliding, searching for the sensual apex of her womanhood.

"Jesus, baby, I'm going to cum soon!" Armando exclaimed as he began to thrust his hips hard against Carole's upturned face, forcing his thick rigid cock to the back of her throat, so that his dark, crisp pubic curls were flat against her face. Sandra wondered fleetingly how the girl could take all his long hard length in her mouth, how she could swallow his penis right up to the hilt, but then she forgot everything as her fingers suddenly found the quivering knob of her clitoris among the damp tendrils surrounding it. It sprang to a shivering life at her touch, and incredible chills of pleasure slithered through her, making her churn uncontrollably against the door jamb.

She was beyond caring about anything now as frenziedly, she began to work the hard little nerve bud with her finger, making her body ripple with every growing arousal, forcing her to choke back jumbling words of passion.

Still, in spite of the depths to which she had sunk, in spite of the fact that she was actually fingering herself in the same room where Carole was greedily sucking on Armando's driving penis, the rapacious demon which had taken possession of her was not satisfied. It needed something else to feed its lustful hunger, and the tortured brunette didn't stop her outstretched middle finger from straying to the trembling wet orifice of her shamelessly aroused cunt. There was no question of stopping now; she had gone too far as it was, and she'd die if she didn't get some relief from the incessant gnawing at her belly which was driving her to a frenzy. She was goaded on by the sight of Armando wildly grinding his pelvis against Carole's face, driving his lust-swollen penis hard up into her ovalled mouth. Oh God, yes! She had to do it! Had to, or die! Moaning deep in her throat, Sandra insinuated her own finger up into the hot, passion-lubricated passage of her eagerly receptive cunt.

She too wanted to cry out with excitement as her body began to twist and thrash with the pleasure which began to explode through her as she began to thrust her finger in and out her warmly clasping vagina while she used her thumbnail against the sensitive tip of her erect little clitoris. Her body seemed to take over now and all rational thought left her head. Her finger of its own volition plunged up into the deeper recesses of her pussy, fucking in and out with its own rhythm, and she could feel the damply clasping walls of her inner sheath pulsating strongly around it. She no longer cared about anything -- about the couple, also frenziedly abandoned in the room with her, about the fact that her clothes were dishevelled and that she was performing an immoral act on herself. Out of the comer of her eye she could see that the tempo had reached breaking point between Carole and the campaign manager.

"Aaaaaaaaggggghhhh... Oh Christ, I'm cumming!" Armando suddenly gasped, and he began to thrust wildly now, pile driving insanely as he began to cum in the excited blonde's hungrily sucking mouth!

Sandra knew she should be shocked and horrified, disgusted by this ultimate degradation. But she wasn't. It was adding to her own pleasure to see the look of supreme pleasure on Carole's face as her cheeks hollowed and filled as the first heated jets of semen seeped between her lips. Her mouth was as if glued to the ejaculating shaft of flesh inside, and she was slavishly swallowing every drop, her hand milking dry his writhing balls.

A warning voice sounded in the depths of Sandra's desire-fogged brain. They'll see you, it said ominously. But she still couldn't move. Her eyes glued to the lascivious sight a few feet away from her, she surrendered completely to her pleasure. She's draining him dry, just like she said she would... she thought crazily, and then she forgot about everything as her finger continued to saw in and out of her greedily grasping cunt and the little office began to revolve around her. Her entire body was alive and tingling now with incredible sensations and she felt excruciatingly aware of every inch of it.

"Oh baby, don't stop sucking now!" Armando groaned, as he kept on battering his jerking penis against Carole's receptive mouth, and Sandra, through the haze of her own passion, could see a small silver stream of semen drooling out from the blonde's voraciously working lips to flow down over her chin. Then her head began to spin and she was aware of a flash of light behind her eyes. Pleasure gathered deep in the pit of her stomach and was trying to explode out of her in a volcanic rush. Oh God, I have to get out of here, she moaned, and she stumbled out of the small inner office, oblivious to any sound she was making. She was just in time.

She was floating, drifting upward on a cloud of exquisite lightness toward the sun which was burning deep into her. She leaned weakly against her own desk as the disintegration started inside her, separating her into a thousand different pieces, jarring her with incredible sensations, making her wild and uncontrollable with the intensity of her pleasure. She was bathed in warmth and pleasure, submissive to the powers of her body and its appetite for satiation. She felt herself drifting into a pleasurable daze, and forced herself to move. Through the ephemerality of her satisfaction, her instinct for survival asserted itself, and she haltingly and clumsily made her way out of the front office, not even stopping to straighten her clothes, and headed right for her car.

CHAPTER THREE

"... and I promise that, if I am elected, I will keep my word! I will work for more jobs, more housing, better schools. I will strive for a better life for the people of this City. I will put the people first!"

Sandra barely heard the cheers of her followers, and paid no attention to the questions which were being fired at her from the audience. All she wanted to do was to get away. She just didn't know how she had gotten through the last hour. Her head was spinning and she felt as if she hadn't slept for a week.

Armando was waiting for her behind the podium.

"You look all in to me, Sandra. You're just about on the verge of collapse." His voice was sympathetic and she flashed him a look of gratitude.

"I really don't feel too hot, it's true," she agreed, wondering at the same time what he would think if he knew the reason why.

"Look, why don't you just take the rest of the day off? You could do with a break after your schedule this week!"

"I can't!" she began, unable to keep a wailing note out of her voice. "What about that meeting with -- "

"I'll cancel that! If you don't take it easy for a while, you won't last for the rest of the week!"

The idea of being free from her commitments for the remainder of the day was bliss to her, and she didn't make any more of the objections which sprang to her duty-conscious mind. Damn it, she would, for once, fail to fulfill her obligations, and think of herself first. She'd fit the appointments that Armando had already gone to cancel into her already crowded schedule for the coming week -- it wasn't as if she would be letting her followers down completely. She'd just rest and loaf all afternoon and by tomorrow, she'd be in far better shape to continue with her grueling campaign.

She found that her hand was trembling as she lit a cigarette. Not a heavy smoker ordinarily, she found that she needed one more often these days, to calm her and help her think. God only knows but she needed time to think after what had happened last night, not to mention something to soothe her. Good Lord, she just didn't know how she had made it home last night, or how she had gotten out of the office without Armando and Carole discovering her. Her legs felt weak as she remembered the lewd feelings which had rippled through her, as she fought to maintain control of her body as it plummeted toward orgasm, at the same time as she tried to make her quiet escape from the little room where Armando was writhing in abandoned passion as he pumped his hot sperm into Carole's hungrily welcoming mouth.

It was bad enough to recall the sordid scene she had inadvertently stumbled on between her campaign manager and her young employee. But to have to cope with her recollection of how she, herself, had so shamefully succumbed to lust, to remember how she had lewdly stroked and fondled herself until she reached a climax at the same time as Armando, whose action she had so silently and vehemently condemned -- that was almost more than she could stand. She just couldn't understand what had come over her to act the way she did. Certainly, she had the stimulus of the wanton act that she watched, but how could it have excited her eventually, when she had initially roundly condemned it? How could she have been turned on by such a debasing, evil sight as that of Carole, down on her knees in front of Armando, his glistening red penis pistoning in and out of her tightly ovalled mouth? How could such a sight have aroused her, when she had secretly sworn off all men after her terrible encounter with Chad in the duck hunting cabin? She had vowed to banish all thoughts of sex from her mind after her humiliating, horrifying forced subjugation to Chad, and for two years she had succeeded, with the exception of a few times when the natural physical urges of her body had overcome her and she had to find relief in masturbation. Yes, she had kept her promise to herself, until last night! Then, she had acted in a way which made her no better than her young blonde employee and Armando, whose behavior she despised and who had fallen far in her estimation after what she had witnessed them doing. But now, she was almost as bad as they were!

Armando came back to interrupt her self-accusatory thoughts.

"It's all fixed, Sandra! For the rest of the day, you're a free woman!"

"Oh Armando, I know I really shouldn't, but it's such a relief! It was a great idea of yours! "

"And I have an even better one now. Why don't we go somewhere and have a long, quiet lunch and then take a drive out in the country? Just the two of us!"

"I know that if you go back to your apartment, you'll just start worrying over things, brooding all alone, and before you know it, you'll be on the phone to me or Carole, or somebody else, asking about this problem or that question! It'd be just the same as if you were working. No ma'am, you're too much of a workhorse. If I don't take you right out of the city, you'll never be able to relax!"

Sandra knew he was right. Sure, she didn't relish the idea of being alone with him for several hours, not after what she had seen last night, but what could she do? She had shamefully neglected her few friends, and probably they'd be busy on such short notice. And he was only too right about what she'd do if she were alone. Better to go alone with his program. Besides, it was a relief to have him tell her what to do -- to take care of things for her. After all, that was what he was her campaign manager for.

"Besides," Valdez threw in as a clincher, "you've got that meeting with the guys from Beer Drivers Local #3 tomorrow. Those teamsters are tough guys -- they'll have a lot of questions for you, and if you get their endorsement, you'll be made!"

Sandra didn't need any more convincing. The women yesterday from the Caucus were bad enough -- she'd need all her wits about her for the teamsters tomorrow. The Beer Drivers were inclined to be in Mark Blake's corner -- the incumbent had done a lot for Local #3 in the past, and they would need a lot of persuasion -- and promises -- in order to swing them over to her. And if she did succeed in getting their endorsement, the International Longshoremen's and Warehousemen's Local #2, which she was to confer with early next week, would be a cinch. Yes, she had to be at her best tomorrow. Armando, as always, was right.

She was silent on the drive out to the restaurant that Valdez had chosen. In spite of everything, she had to admit to herself that she admired her campaign manager. No wonder he was a pro! He figured out all the angles, and always came up with the right answer. Advisers had cautioned her about hiring him, just as they had done about Carole. They had said that she should get a "name" manager, someone who was well known, even if he turned out to be just a figurehead. But she didn't go for that. Expense was a problem, and she just wanted the most efficient and effective person possible. And Armando was turning out to be just that.

His morals were no concern of hers insofar as they applied to his personal life. He was certainly running the campaign in an honest and aboveboard fashion. He had to -- she wouldn't have it any other way. And Carole? well, people had warned her off the lovely young blonde, and she hadn't listened. Maybe she should have... but Sandra's innate sense of justice wouldn't let her go on thinking this way. Before she had discovered Carole last night with Armando, so slavishly and happily kissing and sucking his penis, she had thought she was an ideal and hard-working employee. Her behavior last night didn't necessarily change that. In fact, Carole had been at her desk even before Sandra herself got in, and was working just as hard and cheerfully as ever. And besides, who was she to judge? Perhaps last night was just an aberration -- in more ways than one -- and hadn't happened before, and was unlikely to happen again. She couldn't condemn so quickly, especially after the way in which she herself had eventually acted.

In the same way, she shouldn't blame herself, she knew. But that was her nature -- to be continually hard on herself, to demand so much of herself that only a perfect human being could comply. The best thing to do was to forget all about last night -- to erase from her mind what she had seen Armando and Carole doing, and to stop thinking so harshly about her own part in the whole shabby happening. It was all over and past -- she had too much else to think about and occupy her mind.

The restaurant was a small pleasant Italian one, outside the city, and its red checkered tablecloths, continental decor and pleasant proprietress all added to Sandra's pleasure.

Everything was excellent, from the antipasto to the Zuppa Inglese and the Frascati which they had with it was mellow and not too dry. It had a taste reminiscent of the western foothills north of Naples, its place of origin. Sandra didn't know this -- Armando told her this and other interesting things about almost everything. She was, in fact, surprised by the extent of his knowledge, and he showed himself, at first over lunch and later, when they had an espresso, to be a cultured and widely travelled man. She realized, again, how little she knew about him, and although he didn't mean to, he made her aware of the limitations which her dedication to politics had placed on her.

She didn't really want to be so one-track, so single-minded, but she knew that she had to give her all to her career or she'd never get anywhere. Maybe after she was elected -- if she was elected -- the pressures would ease and she would have time for the other interesting things in life. Armando, as busy as he constantly was, seemed to find time for everything -- to go to the theater and cinema, to travel, to enjoy fine foods and wines -- and still know all there was to know about his profession, and a lot about hers, if it came to that. Also, it was apparent last night, that his extracurricular activities included women. He must have boundless energy, she found herself thinking. And yet, women must find him attractive, she mused as her eyes roamed over his suave, almost swarthy face, topped by crisp dark hair. His lips were full and sensual, and his Latin eyes, now resting lightly on her face, were a deep and unfathomable brown.

"... and the Englishman who wrote it obviously wanted to point out the desperation, caused by our modern day society, that drove an avowed animal lover to blind those six horses... " Sandra knew he was talking about a recent play -- this was one she had read about -- but had not seen. The play had won an award and was to be made into a film. In fact, she didn't think she did want to see it, regardless of its social message, because of the cruel act it portrayed. Besides, she really wasn't listening to Armando -- she was too wrapped up in her thoughts about him, particularly in regard to last night.

Did he have many girlfriends? she couldn't help wondering. She never saw him with a woman, nor did any of his friends come to the office, or, as far as she knew, phone him there. Carole, on the other hand, seemed to be on friendly terms with all the volunteer workers, and Sandra often saw her leave work with one or the other of the young, student-type workers. But Armando? She had never even imagined him with a woman, even though she knew he wasn't married, until last night, when she had found him with Carole. She hoped it was the first -- and the last -- time such an occurrence had happened, and that it was some sort of spur-of-the-moment thing, which neither of them had planned.

Once more, Sandra cautioned herself to forget all about it. It's none of my business, anyway, she told herself sternly, as she tried to force her attention away from the memory of Armando as he had been last night, his face darkened and distorted with lust as he continued to thrust his penis forcefully up into Carole's lasciviously sucking mouth.

Armando permitted himself a small smile as he observed Sandra's inattentiveness. He knew she wasn't paying attention to him, that she was lost in her own thoughts. And to judge by the frowns that creased her smooth brow, and the occasional tightening of her shapely lips, they weren't altogether reassuring ones. Still, she seemed much more relaxed than she had earlier, and before he had advised her to cancel the afternoon's engagements. He wanted her fresh for tomorrow's meeting with the teamsters -- Ray Bukowski, the president of Local #3, had been doubtful about their chances of swinging the votes over to her. Still -- they'd give it a good try; he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

"Now how's about a little drive? It's pretty scenery around here and it'll help you forget all about the dirty, grimy city!"

"It's a great idea, Armando, but really, I think I should go home and take a nap. I feel really worn out -- it must be the wine -- I'm not used to drinking at lunch, you know!"

"Tell you what. Let's hit on a compromise. I'll drive back the long way. We'll get to see a little scenery that way and you'll still have plenty of time for a nap. But remember, I don't want you worrying about business!"

The route he took back was a pleasant, meandering one, and the smooth motion of the big car combined with the wine to make her feel drowsy and relaxed.

"Say, let's stop off at my place -- it's right on the next block," Armando said suddenly as they approached the city limits. "We can maybe have a drink and then I can drive you home later. Also you'll be able to pick up that information I told you about that I have on the unions. You'll find it a real help for tomorrow's meeting and for the Longshoremen next week." His mention of the unions decided her. She had been about to object, not really wanting to go to his apartment alone with him, especially after she had gotten a glimpse of a totally different side to his character last night, but she did want to bone up on the unions. Really, she knew very little about them, how they started, the struggle they had to endure, where they stood now. A little research would prove invaluable -- experience had taught her that.

"Well, let's just stop by and get the union material," she suggested. "I really want to get back -- " He had already swung into his driveway, and when the car was parked, she mutely followed him into the plush new apartment building. She was also silent in the elevator, but couldn't resist exclaiming when he flung open the door to his apartment.

"Armando, it's beautiful... I've never seen anything like it!"

She gazed around appreciatively at the handsome tan leather chairs and sofa, the dazzling zebra rug, the ultra modern lamps and the huge exotic plants which festooned the entire space.

"Now that you've seen and like the place, you'd better stay and have a quick drink with me!"

Sandra felt herself weakening. After all, what was her hurry back? He was right -- she'd only start turning things over in her mind, agonizing over decisions she had already made and was about to make, worrying over how the election was eventually going to go.

"Well, all right, Armando," she assented finally. "But make mine just coffee, please."

Minutes later, Armando reappeared from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs.

"I laced them with a little brandy. It certainly won't do you any harm."

She sipped hers hesitantly and was surprised at how it warmed her, trickling down to the depths of her body, soothing her in a way that coffee on its own never did.

The silence stretched out between them. Sandra didn't know quite what to say. Normally, she would have brought up some item of business of concern to them both, but that subject was forbidden. She was determined not to utter inanities for the sake of making conversation.

"You know, Sandra," Armando said at last, putting his mug down on the glass cube which served as a coffee table, and settling back in the inviting soft length of his chair, "I've often wondered what you do for relaxation."

"R-relaxation?" She knew she sounded stupid and dull, but she couldn't stop from repeating his last word; he had taken her completely by surprise.

"Yes, you know, when you let your hair down and take it easy. Do you go dancing, or to nightclubs, or what?"

Sandra found herself squirming uncomfortably. She wanted to tell him he was asking her a personal question, and, moreover, one which she didn't want to answer. But that would sound unbearably stuffy.

"Well, I... that is... I don't really seem to have much time for relaxation. Since I entered the race, I haven't had a chance to think about fun or anything!"

"Oh come on!" Armando needled. "You must do something -- all work and no play makes Sandra a dull girl!"

Does he think I'm dull? she thought, unable to stop a blush from creeping into her face. She knew she didn't want him to think that, at the same time as she tried to tell herself that she really didn't care what he thought. At least, she shouldn't.

"Well, let's see... " he went on relentlessly. "You don't go dancing, or to movies or the theater... do you?"

Feeling guilty about her admission, Sandra silently shook her head. She wanted to scream "Mind your own business!" at her probing campaign manager, but somehow, she couldn't say anything. She felt at a disadvantage, because she was sitting here in his living room, drinking his coffee, and she didn't think she could come right out and say what was on her mind.

"What do you do then for a good time? Fuck?"

Sandra felt as if she had been struck with a bolt of lightning. She turned wide, staring eyes on Armando, who was leaning back in his chair, a faint smirk on his face, his dark, searching eyes boring mercilessly into her.

She didn't know for sure that she had heard him right. Surely he couldn't have said what she thought he did? Surely he had more, well more finesse than that?

"I... I beg your pardon?" she finally stammered, an embarrassed blush suffusing her features.

Armando laughed easily.

"I was wondering if you got your kicks, you know, let off steam by fucking! It's the best way of all, as far as I'm concerned."

Unsteadily, Sandra got to her feet. Dammit, that brandy in her coffee was the last straw!

"It's time I left," she said, her voice cold and restrained, as she tried to control the trembling and dizziness which was caused as much by her shock over what Armando was saying as by the effects of too much alcohol, and which were threatening to overcome her, now that she was standing up.

"What's the matter?" Armando questioned, moving toward her. "Surely you're not taking offense at my... my questions?"

Sandra, goaded by the leering tone of his voice and the mocking look he threw her, lost all her reserve.

"Yes, dammit, I am! You've no right to ask me questions like that, or to use such a foul word. That may be the kind of language you're used to, but I'm certainly not. And you needn't bother to drive me home -- I'll take a cab!" She started to move toward the door, but found herself stopped by a tight grip on her wrist. Armando was forcibly restraining her, and had now pushed his face close to hers, until it was only inches away, in fact!

"Take your hands off me!" she snapped, her anger infuriating her beyond all caution.

"Don't get all hoity toity with me! I know what you're really like!"

A shaft of foreboding shot through the trembling brunette, but she still managed to inject a haughty note into her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop putting on such a superior air. You're not fooling me at all, honey!"

Sandra was silent. What did he mean? What did he know about her that made him speak so confidently?

"Yeah, you and me should get a little friendlier. After all, we got a secret between us, you and me!"

"Y-you and me?" she couldn't help parroting.

"Yeah, you and me... and Carole!"

The blood drained from Sandra's face and she stared at him in mounting horror, forgetting about his vise-like grip on her wrist. Good God, was it possible? Did he...

"That's right, honey, glad to see you're finally getting the message!" he drawled, enjoying the look of fear that blanched her lovely face.

"I... I don't know what to say," she whispered lamely.

"There's nothing to say, sweetie. You came to the office last night and saw Carole giving me a blow job. And a damn good one it was too. Man, that Carole sure knows how to suck cock!"

Although she was disgusted by his crude words, Sandra felt a surge of relief rushing through her. Maybe he hadn't actually seen her and what she herself was doing. Maybe he just knew she was there, without actually being able to observe her...

"What you and Carole did is your own affair," she said at length, trying to choose her words carefully, but unable, despite herself, to keep a pompous note out of her voice. "Certainly I can't condone what I inadvertently witnessed, but just because I happened to see --"

"And you just happened to stay till the very end, till I shot my wad into Carole's mouth!" he interrupted, rudely mimicking her.

"Frankly, I was too horrified to move. I could hardly believe my eyes!"

"Yeah, and you wanted to make sure that you didn't miss anything, either. Or maybe you were just so fascinated by the sight of my prick that you couldn't tear yourself away!"

"H-how dare you?" Sandra gasped, pulling her wrist away from his momentarily slack grasp. "I told you, I was never so shocked in my life. To think that -- "

"For Chrissakes Sandra, come off it! You weren't so goddamned shocked that you couldn't shove your finger up your own cunt!" This time, the miserable brunette was speechless. Tears of mortification sprang to her eyes as she sat down helplessly on the sofa. He knew! Oh God! He had seen her caressing and fondling her genitals, playing with herself until she climaxed. He knew all along, and had just taunted her in that long-drawn-out way, making her fall into the snare that he had laid for her. It was bad enough -- humiliating beyond belief -- that he was aware of her abandoned masturbation, but her shame was compounded by the priggish way she had just acted about the whole thing, getting on her high horse about it, acting as if he and Carole were some king of debauched pair, whereas she herself had acted just as badly. And Armando knew it all along!

Oh God, what was she going to do? The tears spilled over and cascaded down her pale cheeks, and her whole body shook with sobs of confusion and distress. What was she to do?

"Look, Sandra, it's not that bad!" Armando tried to console her. "It happens every day, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with a woman sucking a guy's cock, or with a girl masturbating when she gets turned on. It's completely natural!"

But as far as the unhappy brunette was concerned, he only made things worse.

More hot tears of shame coursed down her face as she stared up at him.

"It was disgusting! I couldn't believe that... that Carole would do a thing like that, and you... you were like a wild beast!"

She noticed the look of anger which was beginning to darken his features, and she hurried on: "And... and I don't know what came over me. I just lost control and couldn't help myself. I was just as bad as you and Carole... I admit that. And I think the best thing, the only thing to do is to forget it. I'm sure it won't happen again!"

Sandra, her head sunk low on her breast, was stunned to hear Armando's raucous shout of laughter.

"You can bet your sweet ass it will happen again! Why, Carole and I've been screwing since the campaign began. She's a hot little number and just can't get enough of it!"

Sandra felt her temper flaring again.

"How could you? I'm running on a platform of decency, honesty, integrity. How can I face my constituents when I know what's going on in my own office? How can I talk about moral rectitude, how can I point out the dishonesty of other politicians, when my own campaign office is... is a hotbed of lust?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Sandra, it's only a job! You're only running for City Council, not becoming a novitiate in a goddamned convent!" Armando saw her eyes narrow and her lips tighten, and knew that he had better say something else to ward off the outburst of anger which he knew was coming, because he had cast aspersions on her vocation. Damn it, she treated politics as if it was some kind of holy office, and slammed anyone who didn't devote twenty-four hours a day to it. Well, he had finally found a chink in her armor, and by Christ, he was going to use it. He was glad now that he had drawn her out, had made her react in that holier-than-thou way that she had, which infuriated him so much. She had been sure that he hadn't noticed her standing there by the door, her skirt hiked up around her hips, her fingers fucking in and out of her cunt, and she had acted as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, as if he and Carole were some kind of monsters, just because they were enjoying a natural variation of the sexual act! She had been so sure, that she felt safe in launching into her haughty routine, in lecturing him in that condescending way. Well, this time, he had the upper hand, and his long years working in campaigns had shown him the way to use it!

"Armando, I know that politicians of the old school often looked on public office as a -- "

"Oh can it, Sandra, I'm not one of your stupid-ass constituents, and I'm not in the mood right now for any more of that crap! There's one simple thing the matter with you -- "

"And what would that be, Mr. Know-it- all?" Sandra said hostilely, her eyes glinting.

"You don't get enough! What you need is a good fuck!"

"Why... how could... " Her voice trailed off and all she could do was to glare angrily at Valdez. She didn't have to stand here and take this kind of diatribe. She should walk right out of here, and if the election wasn't so close, she would certainly terminate Armando and tear up his contract.

"Don't act so naive and horrified. It's obvious... it's written all over you, from your frustrated looking face to "

"I don't have to listen to this! Now you've gone beyond all bounds. I'm getting out of here and... " She turned wildly toward the door, but before she could move any further, Armando had reached out and grabbed her.

"Let me go! Take your hands off me!" she demanded helplessly, as Valdez pulled her to him and crushed her against his chest in a tight, enveloping embrace.

Then, before she could make any further protest, he had ground down his lips on hers in a wet demanding kiss, and she could feel his teeth bruising painfully against her mouth. She was stifled by his unwanted kiss, by the force of his arms holding her tightly to him, and a feeling of unreality swept over her. This couldn't be happening to her... she didn't want it to and it frightened and angered her. He had no right... no right at all to treat her in this way!

Moments later, he slipped his insinuating tongue between her teeth and she could feel it dancing wetly inside her mouth, dipping and playing against her own.

She tried hard to pull away again when she felt him relax one arm, but in a few seconds, she quivered with horror as she was aware of his hand flattening against her breast, crushing it in a tightly gripping caress.

With a desperate rally of strength, she managed to pull her mouth away from his, and her heavy breathing, ragged and gasping from fear, prevented her from giving voice to the anger and fury which was welling up inside her.

"Christ, Sandra, you've got nice tits... " Armando rasped, his fingers finding the small button of her breast and beginning to roll it teasingly between them, making it jut out against the thin material of her brassiere and tee-shirt.

"Armando!" she finally managed to gasp, "for God's sake, stop! Have you taken leave of your senses? Take your hands off me at once... I'm not Carole and you can't treat me like her!" Armando, stung by her words, spat cruelly: "No, more's the pity you're not. At least she's a real woman... " - "Are you saying that I'm not?" she interjected, her pride hurt.

"Goddamn right I am! But," he added with a snicker, "luckily I know how to fix that!"

Sandra had completely broken away from his embrace by this time, and whirled around to face him angrily.

"Just what do you mean by that?" She shot him a look of pure contempt which he didn't fail to identify.

"Look, Ms. Halston, I've had just all about I can take of your high-hatting ways. From now on, I call all the shots! Get it?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean that unless you do what I tell you, and pronto, everybody is just going to happen to find out about what's been going on. And when they do, they're not gonna believe that you weren't involved right up to those pretty tits of yours!"

"B-but that's blackmail!"

"And the first thing I want you to do," he went on as if he hadn't heard her, "is to take off those clothes of yours!"

Sandra stared him, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Y-you can't mean it!" she gasped, backing away from him.

"I can, and do! Now get those goddamned clothes off!"

She couldn't help herself; she burst into tears. Oh God, when would this nightmare end? He wanted her to take off her clothes; did that mean... ? Oh God, what was she to do? If she didn't comply, she knew, she just knew he was ruthless enough to ruin her prospects at the polls. After all the work and effort and hopes! She just couldn't let him do that. But to give in to him was wrong... morally wrong!

She turned to look at him piteously.

But he didn't seem to see her beseeching look.

"What the hell are you waiting for?"

It was no use. He was merciless, and she could see now that it had all been planned. Urging her to take the afternoon off, taking her out to lunch, everything. He knew he had her in his power when he had seen her last night, watching him and Carole, getting so excited that she lost all control and had succumbed to her own base desires. She was lost, utterly lost.

She tried one last tack.

"Please Armando, let's... " But that was as far as she got.

"GET YOUR GODDAMN CLOTHES OFF!" he snarled, moving menacingly close to her, at the same time as he was pulling off his own sport shirt and unbuttoning his pants.

Shivering in trepidation, she numbly began to undress, trying to keep her eyes away from the sight of Armando, standing there, completely naked, his throbbing cock fully erect and jutting out proudly. She tried to make her movements as slow as possible, to give herself time to think, to put off the moment when she too would be standing there defenseless and completely undressed.

"Hurry up, dammit. I'm ready and waiting!"

There was nothing for it but to take off her brassiere and panties, the only remaining barriers. Nothing was going to save her or change Armando's mind. Oh God, what was the matter with her that she let herself get into situations like this? Was she such a bad judge of people -- she, who wanted to be a politician -- that she was mistaken first about Chad and, later, about Armando and Carole? Was she just blind to what was really going on in the world?

Miserably, she unhooked her brassiere, her head hanging in shame as her full, satiny breasts fell loose and she heard Armando's sharp intake of breath. She hesitated again, dreading the moment when she would have to remove her panties and stand in front of Valdez, stark naked, but she could feel his eyes glaring at her balefully and she was terrified lest he shout at her again. Cringing with humiliation, she eased down her panties, and with a heavy heart, stepped out of them. She was totally naked now, and her feeling of degradation made her keep her eyes downcast.

"Man, you shouldn't keep that body hidden so well! I've really got the hots for you!" he leered, his eyes running lasciviously over her trembling form, sweeping over the smooth circles of her breasts, dropping down to take in the dark triangle of her vaginal mound and the velvety arc of her buttocks.

"Looky here honey," he urged, "look at the hard-on I've got for you!"

Sandra kept her head down.

"I SAID LOOK HERE! LAST NIGHT YOU COULDN'T KEEP YOUR EYES OFF IT!"

Terrified, Sandra looked up, unwillingly fastening her eyes on his huge erection. His penis looked even bigger, if possible, than last night, and he was holding it between his forefinger and thumb, pointing it proudly toward her, so that she could see the tiny glans tip at the opening clearly. Somehow, it seemed like only minutes since she had stood watching Carole lick and slaver over it, take it in her mouth almost to the hilt and run her lips up and down its palpitating length.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Armando grabbed her again and she followed him leadenly into the bedroom. She felt numb and dead inside, unable or unwilling to make any further protest. There was none to make, really... the election had to come before everything else.

Armando could hardly control his excitement. He couldn't believe it... the elusive, cold-blooded bitch Sandra Halston in his power, trembling and naked in front of him and unable to do anything about her predicament. He had long been obsessed with her, hardly able to take his eyes off her in the office, wondering what lay beneath that stand-offish exterior. He had never dreamed that he would be able to break down that barrier, and last night, when he had caught a glimpse of her, and realized that against her wishes, she had become excited by the sight of Carole licking and kissing his prick, he knew that he had the chance within his grasp that he had longed for. He had had .a hunch that she was too emotionally wrapped up in the campaign and the imminent election to realize that he wouldn't do anything at this late stage to jeopardize things; he had too much at stake himself. He had played his hunch and it had been right, and now the lovely brunette had to do as he wanted. And man, the power-house that seemed to be ticking over in his balls told him in no uncertain manner what he wanted!

He pulled her down beside him on the bed and right away, his mouth greedily found hers and without hesitation he plunged his tongue up between her lips as his hands cupped her palpitating breasts. God, her tits felt good -- firm and supple like he had imagined them to be.

Sandra lay motionless, like a rock, steeling herself to accept Armando's kiss, his hands on her breasts. She wanted to cry out her objection, to scream for the police, neighbors, anybody who would save her from her abject mortification. But she didn't, because this was just one more sacrifice she had to make for her career. She didn't want to let him take possession of her body so ruthlessly, but if she didn't, then her career and hopes for political recognition would be in ashes and life wouldn't be worth living.

She shivered again as he dropped his hands, running them along her smooth sides until they came to her satin-soft hips. She couldn't suppress a gasp as they feather-edged along her quivering inner thighs and brushed against the hair-fringed outer lips of her vagina. Oh God, how could she stand it? She didn't want him to touch her there, to insinuate his fingers into the soft folds the way he was doing. But God, she couldn't stop him... not when her whole future was at stake! Armando was probing her tremulous pussy with his fingers, searching her velvety inner recesses, forcing apart her petal-edged interior lips.

Christ, she's got a nice tight little cunt... almost like a virgin's! That thought sent a new shock wave of excitement electrifying through him and placing his palms against the slender columns of her legs, forced them far apart, so that the defenseless furrow of her vagina was nakedly revealed to him. God, he could see the coral-hued opening of her pussy, and nestled between the dark tendrils of pubic hair, he caught a glimpse of the reddish tip of her clitoris.

Once more, he grasped his lustfully pounding shaft in his hand, and began to guide it toward her small, unprotected vaginal opening. With his other hand, he continued to stroke the moist, pink slit of her pussy, dipping his fingertips into the soft warm depths of her cunt. He could feel her whole body stiffen each time he touched her sensitively squirming furrow, reminding him that she would, if she could, strenuously resist his caresses. But he didn't care that she found his attentions repugnant; all he cared about at that moment was moving his desire-heavy cock closer to the trembling orifice of the helpless brunette's vagina.

Sandra pulled back convulsively as she felt the first hard contact of his virilely pulsating penis against her delicate flesh. Oh God, how was she going to endure this? How was she going to be able to lie there and let him do what he intended with her? As bad as it had been that time with Chad, two long years ago, at least she'd had some kind of erotic relationship with him; she had felt some measure of physical attraction toward him. But this time! She hadn't even thought of her campaign manager in any other but a completely professional manner until last night, when she had come across him and Carole, totally abandoned to their illicit love-making. And she had assumed that he had never thought of her in any way other than as the candidate for alderman. But she had been wrong; God, how wrong she'd been!

"Please Armando, don't... " she whimpered pitifully as she felt the insistent nudge of the firm, rubbery head of his cock against her trembling outer lips. At that moment, as a rising tide of panic welled up inside her and threatened to engulf her, she would have fought back with all her strength, would have tried to resist to the last his evil designs, and to hell with her career and everything else, but she felt the steel hard grip of his fingers on her thighs, digging like claws into her captive flesh, and she knew that to resist was futile, that he was determined to get his way.

"Christ, .Sandra, I've waited so long for this... " he rasped as she felt the growing pressure against her tight vaginal opening and felt her thighs being forced brutally apart, stretching her tendons unbearably. Oh God, he was hurting her... she couldn't stand the pain .

. . she would...

AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH... OH GOD... AAARRRGGGHHHHH!!"

She couldn't hold back her cries of agony as she felt herself being torn in two, as if a torpedo had shot up between her legs and was zipping through her pain-filled body.

"Oh please stop... oh God Armando, you're splitting me in two... " But Armando didn't hear her. All his energy was concentrated on sliding his rock hard cock up into the tightly resisting passage of her pussy. He could feel her hot inner walls clamping rigidly against his penis, making him fight to grind it inch by slow inch up into her unwilling depths. Man, he couldn't believe how tight and virginal she felt, and he was oblivious to her gasps of pain and humiliation as he shoved his brutalizing way up between her widely splayed legs.

Fresh tears coursed down Sandra's face as she lay there defenselessly, unable to move, her body-wracked by the pain caused by Valdez's forced intrusion into her painfully stretched vagina. Her mind seethed with shame and anger, and she was sure that she would never feel the same again. Oh dear God, why did this have to happen to her? Why was she being forced to lie here, naked and flat on her back, made to endure Armando's thrusting male shaft burrowing up between her legs? What had she done to deserve this?

Moments later, Valdez grunted as he finally hit bottom -- he had tunneled his way right to the hilt in her tightly clasping pussy. His dark pubic curls meshed with hers, and he could feel the secret crevice of her ass against his sperm-bloated balls. His fingers taloned into her thighs, leaving red marks against the pearly white of her tender skin, as he stared down at her, his eyes feasting on the sight of her shapely supine body. Christ, he was really fucking her at last... it didn't matter that she was sobbing, her face pinched and white. All that mattered was that he had his cock buried completely in the secret recess of her hot little cunt. Slowly, he began to withdraw, feeling the resisting pull of her inner passage as he pulled his blood distended rod out, until just the round knobby head was still embedded in her tightly clasping vagina. Then, this time without hesitation, he plunged his burgeoning penis hard up between her helplessly spread thighs, sinking it completely in her quivering cuntal channel.

Sandra lay there, cringing with pain and mortification, as he began to move slowly and rhythmically in and out. Her entire body was beginning to feel numb, and she wished that her brain would go the same way, so that she wouldn't have to cope with the thoughts and questions which were hurtling through her despairing mind.

Again and again, she silently asked herself what was the reason behind this, why was she forced into submission, why she was being victimized by Armando, the same way as she had been by Chad? What was there about her that made men like those two refuse to take her "no" for an answer, and to feel that they could force her into complying with them, that they could subjugate her without compunction, knowing that circumstances would prevent her from defending herself? Was there something the matter with her?

With relief, she found that the searing pain was gone completely, and she was aware of nothing physically but the in and out friction of Armando's penis as it slid more easily into her now lubricated vagina. She could hear his ragged breathing and was aware that his hands had left her thighs and were now roaming all over her body, kneading and pummeling her breasts, digging into her hips, caressing and squeezing her in a hungry, frenzied way.

Her brain was a tumultuous hotbed of doubts and fears. Had she done or said something to encourage Armando in any way? Certainly he must have misunderstood her actions last night when she had shamefully succumbed to the titillation of watching Carole suck his penis. She didn't know herself why it had happened. But Armando had taunted and teased her about it in a lewd, knowing way, as if she had planned it somehow, as if she had wanted to get all excited and aroused right there in the inner office. Did he really think that she wanted to caress and fondle herself in front of him and Carole? Did he think that she masturbated often and in such a debauched, lascivious way? Good God, didn't he know that she couldn't help herself, that she had gotten carried away by forces beyond her control, by pent-up desires in her own love-starved body?

Engrossed in her self justification, she hardly noticed the peculiar churning sensation which was starting in the pit of her stomach, or the tremors which were shaking her legs, or the delicate ripples which were curling along her spine. Her mind fixated on what had happened last night, she didn't notice in time the changes which were occurring in her own body. And by the time she did, it was too late.

Oh God, it can't be... she thought suddenly, as awareness swept over her with the force of a mailed fist and she began to realize how her body had betrayed her. Desperately, she tried to exercise the power of mind over matter, but she was too late. She bit her lip, clenched her fist, did all the physical things to stem the onslaught of a hunger she didn't want, but once again, just as it had last night, her secret needs took over and she became a slavish victim to the demands of her too-long denied body.

"Mmmmmmmmm... nnnhhhhhhhh... " she finally moaned, unable to hold it back, as a wave of indescribable pleasure rippled through her cock-filled cunt and her tingling flesh began to shiver and squirm in joyous arousal. Dear God, she wanted to resist but she couldn't hold back. It was shameful, humiliating that she was succumbing to Armando's unwanted love- making, disgraceful that she was reacting in this way, but she had never before felt such sensations as were now cavorting around in her heaving body. It was degrading to be aroused in this way, by a man she didn't love or want, but oh God, she couldn't think about that now... she'd worry about that later... right now she couldn't think about anything but...

"Oh God Armando... Ooooohhhhh... " Valdez, his body bathed in perspiration, could hardly believe the evidence of his eyes and ears. It was like a miracle; when he had felt the first tiny shudders of response in her tight little pussy he dismissed them, thinking that they were another manifestation of her pain and anger. But as they grew into quivers of unmistakable pleasure, and then when she moaned and gasped aloud...

It had happened! Not only had he been finally able to realize his dream, not only had he been able to fulfill his fantasy and fuck the stately brunette, which he wanted to ever since he met her, but she was actually aroused by his love-making. He knew that she had fought against it, that the last thing she wanted was to succumb to him, but she just hadn't been able to resist. Her body had taken over and even now was pumping up against his in a crashing, frantic way. She was returning thrust for thrust, and he could feel the eagerly clasping inner walls of her cunt clinging greedily to his pulsating cock as it plunged wildly up between her legs. His own body was alive with electrifying feelings, thrilling him from head to toe, and it felt as if there was a rumbling unappeased volcano in his balls which was threatening to erupt at any given moment.

All self-accusatory thoughts had fled from Sandra's mind as she bucked and rocked beneath Armando, her arms locked around his neck, her legs reaching up and locking behind his back, as she ground her hot burning pussy against his thick rigid penis. Shivers of lewd pleasure chilled along her spine and her head was thrown back in lascivious abandon, her mouth half open, her eyes glazed with lust.

"Yesssssssss... oh God yessssssssss... " she hissed between passion-clenched teeth, completely oblivious now to everything but the satiation of her own particular demon of desire.

Armando, too was lost in passion as he fucked up between the young girl's wantonly splayed legs with accelerating power. He could hardly believe that the impassioned brunette, twisting and jerking so insanely beneath him was the same sedate, stand-offish brunette who had given her speech so crisply at the meeting this morning, who had seem so cold and yet so naive at lunch, who had been so condescending to him only an hour before when he had mentioned that he had seen her watching himself and Carole last night. It hardly seemed possible, but it was, and the change had come about, thanks to the potency of his pile-driving cock!

Now he was gasping for breath, fighting for every ounce of energy left within his body as he drove his throbbing penis home with increasingly frenetic plunges. His balls felt as if they were on fire, ready to explode, and he knew that he couldn't hold out much longer...

Sandra felt a fleeting moment of panic as she reached a point where she lost complete and absolute control over her mind and body, and if a whole battalion of her constituents had burst into the room, and threatened her with the direst things she could think of, she couldn't stop herself. Nothing could halt the headlong flight which her body was taking. Her head was reeling and she was tossing it from side to side like a bewildered mare, as her hips jerked up spasmodically in deep, heaving paroxysms, and a voice, surely not her own, because it was so hoarse and strangled, was uttering strange, crude words...

"Oh God, I'm cumming... Aaaggghhh... I'm cumming!"

And then, she was twisting and flailing crazily, as jets of pleasure whiplashed along her spine, and the fire between her legs spewed flames of excruciating pleasure up into her naked body, spreading out to her arms and legs, and fanning wildly in her head, making it glow and radiate and burn like the sun...

Christ, she was climaxing from his fucking.

. . he had made the cold, icy brunette orgasm from his cock driving up into her...

"I'm cumming too... Oh Christ, keep... fucking... back... AAAAGGGGHHHH... " He panted roughly, as a white light exploded in his head, setting off a trigger below his enormous balls which made them seem to swell almost unbearably and then they suddenly detonated with megaton force and sent his hot seething sperm roiling up into the warm moist depths of her eagerly receptive pussy.

Sandra moaned again as she felt the first boiling onrush of Armando's heated semen as it spewed up into the secret nooks and crannies of her hungrily accepting vagina, and she felt new thrills of pleasure flood through her as she writhed and sighed in pleasurable acquiescence. He was emptying his thick wet fluid into the fastness of her womb, just as last night he had filled Carole's mouth as she sucked thirstily on his ejaculating penis. Oh good God, there was nothing like it, nothing on earth. She shuddered slightly as she felt Armando's last spasmodic twitchings, and she could sense the final spurt of scalding liquid which he spurted into her wet, churning cunt.

Then moments before Armando collapsed on top of her, his sweat-drenched body heaving and clammy and heavy against her own quivering one, she passed into a state of pleasant euphoria, in which she felt at ease and satisfied, thinking about and worrying about nothing, aware of nothing but the pleasure she had just felt and the first complete fulfillment she had ever experienced.

CHAPTER FOUR

But Sandra's state of rapture didn't last long. No sooner had Armando driven her home and left her alone in her apartment, than she fell prey to an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse. She was dumbfounded by what she had done, and for once, she didn't even think once about the campaign.

Armando had declined to stay for a drink, much as she wanted him too.

"Now you get a good night's sleep, honey! Don't forget we have the Beer Driver's #3 tomorrow." He had been almost avuncular in his manner, and had pecked her lightly on the cheek as he left. But when he had gone, the nagging doubts started. She just couldn't believe that she had behaved in the abandoned way she had. To have allowed him to make love to her was one thing -- she couldn't help that; she knew that he would have used brute force, it necessary, to subdue her. That part was bad enough, but to have eventually succumbed the way she did, to the point where she had let her body take over, was unforgivable. The jubilant feeling of her arousal, culminated by her overwhelming orgasm, had vanished now and all she could think of was the shame and humiliation of her subjugation. She couldn't even really figure out how it had happened. One moment, as she remembered it, she was lying there numbly, wishing for it all to be over, and the next, she was moaning and writhing in undeniable pleasure.

It was as if the world had suddenly turned upside down, and the complete about-face which her feelings had taken shocked her as much as the unaccustomed feelings. She had agonized over everything that had happened, trying to find a plausible excuse for her wantonness. Had she been feeling a residue of pleasure from her self-induced orgasm last night? Was that why her body had reacted the way it did? Or much worse, was there something about the situation, the way he had forced her, the way he had left her no option, which appealed to some base masochistic instincts of hers? Was that why she had enjoyed an act which had so disgusted her at first? Sandra didn't want to explore that particular line of thought, as it lead her to speculations which had forced themselves on her before, namely that there was something about her which attracted and encouraged the kind of man that Chad first and now Armando had turned out to be.

The only other alternative that occurred to the remorseful brunette was the one that was most appealing to her, and that was that she was in love with Armando. Why else, she rationalized, would she have responded the way she did? The more she thought about it, first over a solitary drink after Armando had left, later throughout a long and mostly sleepless night, and now during a long, work-filled day, the more sense it made. Of course, she convinced herself, that's it! That's why I was so upset when I discovered him with Carole, and that's why I got so much pleasure out of his love-making! This rationale made her feel better as soon as she began to accept it, and answered all her own awkward questions.

Armando was his usual self when he came into the office that morning and had acted no differently throughout the day, most of which they spent together. Sandra was sure that there was something different, though, in Carole's reaction to her, and immediately put it down to jealousy on the younger woman's part. Even the prospect of the meeting much later with members of the Teamsters didn't daunt Sandra, as her new discovery took possession of her and she was convinced that she had hit on the right answer. And of course, Armando must love her too, or else why would he go to all that trouble to make love to her. He had said something to that effect, she was sure, even if the vernacular he had used had left a lot to be desired. Yes that was it! Now she no longer had to worry or wonder about how or why she had tossed about in complete abandon, her body heaving and palpitating, as Armando had pounded his rock-hard penis hard up into her, or why she had accepted his hot, frothing sperm with eager hunger. She knew!

* * *

Armando had gotten to the meeting place before Sandra, who had gone back to her apartment first. He was, on the whole, relieved at how the day went. He had, somehow, expected Sandra to make some kind of scene, to accuse or harangue him, and he was glad to see that she was taking it all in her stride. Man, to look at her today, he'd never think, if he didn't know, that only last night she was completely transformed, totally aroused and crazed with passion as she bucked back wildly against him, and then, when she had reached a climax, she had nearly yanked his cock off with the force of her greedily-clasping pussy. In fact, he could hardly believe himself that he had realized his ambition with respect to her, and he sure wouldn't mind fucking her again, getting a taste of that hot, hidden cunt of hers, feeling the firmness of her shapely tits in his hands, jabbing his tongue into that honeyed mouth of hers. Christ, he was getting a hard-on just thinking about it! Well, he didn't have time for anything like that now... the men were getting impatient and Sandra should be here at any minute. Work today, and unfortunately had to come first...

* * *

The hall was packed, and everywhere Sandra could see her familiar blue and white bunting. She was surprised at the turnout, considering the union's well-known allegiance to the incumbent, and she was pleased and optimistic. She forgot to feel her accustomed pang of nervousness as she stepped out in front of the huge crowd, after Armando had introduced her, and Ray Bukowski, the president, had said a few words.

Of course, she didn't like when Bukowski proclaimed her "the pretty little lady you've all been waiting for", but there wasn't anything she could do about it. The men seemed to accept her speech pretty readily, but it was the questions afterwards that she dreaded.

"But what can you give us that Alderman Blake can't?" someone shouted from near the front, and immediately, coarse snickers and whoops of wild laughter followed. But she kept calm, reiterating her promises about better conditions at home and at work. Armando had tried to persuade her to wear something sexy for this meeting, but she had adamantly refused. He pointed out that she was an unknown quantity as far as the very conservative teamsters were concerned, and there was really no reason for them to pledge their support to her when Alderman Blake had such a good track record. The only way she could convince them was by her personal charisma, and "with guys like that" as he referred to them, without a trace of disparagement, charisma could be equated with sex appeal. But she couldn't, wouldn't believe that.

"They're interested in more jobs, better working conditions, and I can promise -- "

"Oh shit, so is everyone else. But the Teamsters have gotta be the strongest union in the country," he had interrupted, shaking his head, "they've got the best pension plan, the best welfare program, the best vacation time.

What they want, honey, is something a little extra... " Sandra was irked by his speech for more reason than one. She didn't like the way he had suddenly started calling her "honey" the way he did every woman in sight... he must think that what happened between them last night gave him license to talk that way to her. Well, as far as she was concerned, it definitely didn't, not in public anyway. She was also irritated by the sneaky way he had mentioned "something extra"; she didn't know quite what he meant, and she didn't want to find out.

"What about the Trades Council?" someone else called.

She was ready for this. Armando had briefed her on the situation, and he had explained it all so well that she could see that there was nothing wrong in promising help here.

"I feel that the time has come to have a representative of your union, the Beer Drivers Local #3, Teamsters, as chairman of the Baltimore County Trades Council, and I promise you, that if you give me your support, I will do all in my power to make sure that you get that seat and -- " The rest of her speech was drowned by raucous cheers, and Sandra felt that she had scored a point. After that, the question period went smoothly and she knew that, she was winning the teamsters over.

"You're doing great," Armando whispered to her later on the way to the hotel where they were to have dinner with Bukowski, the union president, and other members of the Teamsters.

Armando had insisted on this, telling her that it was a way to seal their endorsement, and she had no choice but to comply. She didn't like to admit it, but she was relieved when the meeting part was over. The hall was hot, and the burly, crude workingmen intimidated her. She wasn't used to their rough ways or their old-fashioned macho language, and she was afraid that her feelings would be obvious. But, apparently, she had convinced them that she was on their side. Now she had only the dinner to get through.

She was placed beside Ray Bukowski, with Armando on the other side, and she was the only woman there. She had hoped that Carole, at least, would have been there, but Armando had vetoed it.

"Believe me, it's better this way, honey," Armando had assured her without explaining any further, and she just had to steel herself to get through the rest of the evening.

"That sure was a nice little speech you gave, doll," the union president whispered loudly, and she could only smile her thanks. He was tall and muscular, and his graying hair was cropped in a crew-cut style. His iron-colored eyes seemed to penetrate her as he looked at her, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that when she wasn't paying attention, they were roaming over her body in a suggestive way. She knew, this time without being briefed by Armando, that she had to handle Bukowski carefully. Everyone always said that labor never won elections, but she knew that they played a very important part in deciding who got the vote, regardless of the voter's religious or ethnic preference.

"Have you been in the union a long time, Mr. Bukowski?" she asked by way of conversation.

"Sure have, honey, and call me Ray. Everyone does. Yep, I was one of the organizers of our local here. I've bin drivin' ever since I was old enough to hold a license, and I seen brother turn against brother when there's no job security and jobs are tight. I seen a time when men'd take on double shifts and near kill themselves trying to make a livin' for themselves and their families. But the union's changed all that, and not before time. The working man still isn't getting his fair share, but, by God, he's doing a lot better'n he did before we organized."

"Yes, there's still a lot to be done," Sandra murmured sympathetically.

"You've said it, honey, you've said it! The working man is the backbone of this country of ours," he went on, as his voice began to rise. "And until every manjack has a decent job, with fair wages and decent benefits and health care, then we can call it a great country."

He slammed his fist down on the table as he finished, and then emptied his tankard of beer with deliberate slowness.

"Say doll, you're not involved in that women's liberation business, are you?" he asked Sandra suddenly, throwing her off guard.

She felt Armando nudging her surreptitiously on her other side, but couldn't think clearly enough to remember what he was hinting at.

"Well, I do believe -- "

"I think it's a _goddamn waste of time," Bukowski interrupted to Armando's relief, before Sandra had a chance to go on. "'Course there are a couple little ladies in Local #3, but they're mostly widows or divorcees with families to support. The place for a woman is in the home, and if she's anywhere else, unless there's a very good reason, then I say she's no lady!"

By this time, Sandra had caught a warning frown creasing Armando's brow, and she knew that he didn't want her to say anything more about the Women's Movement. She was irritated, but knew, deep down, that her campaign manager knew best. When it came to shrewdness and psyching out people, Armando was unbeatable, and he was finally able to convince her that sometimes candor was better replaced by tact, and sometimes omission altogether.

The meal was over and the table had been cleared away and the waiter brought several more pitchers of beer into their private banquet room. Although her experience had taught her better, she had hoped that the evening would finish up now, but it was apparent that it was only just beginning for the teamsters. For the most part, they left most of the talking to Bukowski, which was just as well, because she couldn't remember most of their names. Some politician I'll be, she told herself wryly, thinking of her basic profession. But as she was beginning to find out, the sacrifices she was being called on to make for her career were seemingly endless.

"That sure was swell the way you promised the chairmanship of the Trades Council to us," Bukowski said, as he lit up a long, fat cigar.

"I'll do my best, Mr. -- Ray," she said demurely.

"I guess you have the trade unions all tied up," he surmised, looking at her appraisingly.

"Well, I... " Here, another sly nudge from Armando made her cautious, "I have my contacts... and my secrets!"

"You're a shrewd little cookie, and no mistake!" the union leader guffawed in appreciation, and slapped his thigh repeatedly in good humor.

"Yeah honey, us teamsters could do with a smart gal like you there in City Hall! You sure could do a lot for us."

"In what way, Ray?" Sandra asked archly, secretly tired of his bantering, and wondering what he was really thinking.

"Well, in that matter of the Trades Council for one thing, and then... well, Mr. Valdez here hinted that you could help us out with the garbage men."

There was silence as Sandra looked from her campaign manager to Bukowski in bewilderment.

"W-what do you mean?" she finally stammered, realizing that Armando wasn't going to give her any help.

"You know sweetie," Bukowski said in a deceptively soft voice, "that the garbage men aren't organized yet. They're really ready, too, and need to fight for more benefits. Being a garbage man ain't easy, out in all kinds of weather, riflin' through people's rubbish, it takes a lot out of a man, makes him get old quick. And that ain't no picnic when you've got a family to support. You can understand that, can't you, little lady, what it would be like to have your man laid off because his health broke down, and wasn't getting no good benefits, and with a houseful of kids to feed... yep, them garbage men sure need a union, and quick... " Sandra followed his rambling with difficulty. She had a strange feeling of unreality, as if he were talking in a different language, one which she didn't know but should. Suspicion seeped into her brain; had Armando discussed something about the unionization of the garbage collectors with Bukowski? Implicating her without telling her how?

"What are you driving at?" she asked, her voice sharp. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Armando fidgeting on his chair, but she kept her gaze firmly riveted on the cigar- smoking union leader.

"It's like this, Sandra," he said, some of the softness gone from his voice, "them garbage men need organizing, and there's no better union than the Teamsters."

"They'll choose their own union when the time comes!" Sandra said vehemently, hoping that her words would close that conversation.

"But doll, they mightn't choose the best one for them. They might be swayed by the Municipal Union or some other -- "

"They'll choose their own union!" she said again flatly.

"Sure they will," Armando intervened finally, "no one will force a union on them that they don't want."

"Well, what's the problem?" Her voice was cold and annoyed, but she hoped it belied the uneasiness she was feeling deep inside.

"Ray here was hoping that you'd let him know when their election was going to be, when they chose their union." Armando explained patiently.

"Local #3 will be told at the same time as the other unions." she answered firmly.

"I don't think you get the point, honey," Bukowski said, a trace of impatience evident in his voice. "If you tip me ahead of time, it'll make all the difference."

"To you, yes, but it wouldn't be fair to the other unions. Besides being unethical and maybe even illegal!"

"Sweetie, the Teamsters is the best union for the garbage men, take it from me," Bukowski tried again. "Course they mightn't all realize it, because there's a lot of propaganda goin' on, so if we got in ahead of the others, there'd be no problem in showing them that it'd be best to vote for us."

Sandra shoved back her chair suddenly and stood up. Her eyes were blazing and her face was white with anger.

"For God's sake, this is too much. I agreed to help you get the Trades Council Chairmanship because I honestly believe it's time the Teamsters got it, but to use my influence to affect the way the garbage men will vote for a union, why... I'm insulted that you are even suggesting it!"

Bukowski was leaning forward intently now.

"Valdez, I thought you said -- " His voice was steely and Armando froze under his penetrating stare.

"What did you say, Armando?" Sandra demanded coolly.

"Shut up Sandra, and sit down!" he commanded roughly, and the flabbergasted brunette was too astonished to do anything but obey.

"There's a misunderstanding," Armando said soothingly to Bukowski. "Miss Halston misinterpreted what you were saying."

"Maybe so," Bukowski conceded, "but a smart gal like her can see how important the Teamsters endorsement is to her, can't she? And that if she don't get it from us, she don't get it from the Longshoremen, neither. And," he paused as he moved his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, "Alderman Blake thinks that the Teamsters is the best union for them garbage men."

Sandra stared at him in mounting horror. "Are... are you saying that I won't get your allegiance if I don't agree to what you suggest about the garbage men?"

"Well, if you want to put it that way," the union leader temporized, "if you want to be blunt about it, well, then, I'll have to say yes, that's what I do mean!"

Everyone at the table, of course, was listening to their exchange, but Sandra was aware of nobody but Bukowski, who now appeared to her to be unbearably crude, insidious and corrupt.

"Then," she went on majestically, "I'll just have to forget about your endorsement. I'm sure the fellows over at Longshoremen's Local #2 are honest and aboveboard, the way I thought you were! And," she continued, her voice choking with emotion, "even if they're not, even if they're crooked and corrupt like you, then I'll manage without their support too. Because I'm not going to compromise myself. I'm not going to stoop to any of the low tricks that you propose -- "

"Sandra, for God's sake -- "

"Please, Armando, let me finish. If I can't be honest, if I can't keep my integrity, then I don't want to win. I refuse to accept patronage and want nothing to do with any wheeler dealer tactics, so I think we have nothing more to say to each other, Mr. Bukowski!"

There was utter silence as she sat down, and Sandra was vaguely aware that she had expected that perhaps her audience would be moved by her intensity and honesty, and that they would burst into applause, the way they might in a movie. But there was only stony, unfathomable silence.

Bukowski broke it finally.

"For Chrissakes, Valdez, you told me that this... this lady here was going to deliver. Now I've found you've been wasting my time!"

"Please Ray, just a minute. There's been a mix-up. Me and Sandra will go get some more beer, and will be back in a minute."

Armando motioned to Sandra, who followed him with relief. Good, it was over. Armando must see her side of it and realize that the best thing for everyone now would be for her to leave.

Seconds later, she found out how wrong she'd been.

"You goddamn stupid bitch! What the hell are you playing at? You've nearly ruined the whole fucking show! Jeez, what a mess you've put us in. I feel like bustin' your goddamn jaw!" Sandra stared in disbelief as she listened to his hissed diatribe, hardly daring to credit her own ears. Oh God, this nightmare was the worst of all. What was going on?

"Armando, I don't know what you're talking about!" she whispered pleadingly.

Just then, the waiter appeared, and Armando told him to bring in more beer to the Teamsters. When he had left, Sandra continued: "You know I don't believe in anything like that, that I detest bribery of any sort. You know I wouldn't agree to anything that... that rat suggested. Why... "

"Oh for Chrissakes shut up. You and your goddamn scruples. Be quiet for a minute and let me think!"

Sandra stood there, hunching miserably. Oh dear God, it was no use. She just didn't know how to handle the situation. Sometimes she felt as if it were Armando, and not she who was running for office. Her campaign manager seemed to be presenting her as a completely different person from what she was, and what he was doing amounted to misrepresentation. She didn't want to fool the voters or pass herself off as something she wasn't. If she couldn't be honest, she -- "I've got it!" Armando said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'll be right back!"

He had disappeared into the banquet room before she had a chance to ask him anything, and she was left with an even more pronounced feeling of ineffectuality than before. She just didn't seem able to control things, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes she felt that no one, not even Armando took her seriously or even listened to her feelings about her candidacy. Did no one want an honest, sincere person on the City Council? Was everyone only interested in whatever he or she could get for themselves? Did improving the quality of life in the city, and the lot of every working man and woman, mean nothing to anyone?

"... made a fool of me, Valdez... " Bukowski's irate voice drifted through the closed door. She could hear Armando's voice, soft and soothing and persuasive, and in a few moments, Bukowski's again: "Well, I don't know... didn't look like it to me... " And later still: "Yes sir, now you're talking... looks good to me... " Guffaws of laughter followed and everybody seemed in good humor again. Armando had obviously patched things up... but how? What had he promised?

He appeared contrite when he came out of the private room.

"Look honey, I'm really sorry about the way I blew up at you. I had no right to call you those names and say those things. But Bukowski really got me on edge and made my lose my cool. But everything's all right now. Let's go back inside."

"But are the Teamsters going to endorse me?" she wanted to know, resisting his hand propelling her elbow.

"I told you, Sandra, everything's been fixed up. Now let's go in to that party!"

"But I don't understand, Armando! What did you tell him? And what "party" are you talking about?"

Armando released her arm and turned to face her.

"For God's sake Sandra, stop making things difficult. Just trust me and everything will be all right!"

Sandra glared at her campaign manager. "TRUST you? How can I trust you after you tried to sell me down the river the way you did? I want to know exactly what you told Bukowski this time!"

Armando affected a look of exaggerated patience.

"Look, do you want to salvage your case with the Teamsters or not? Do you really want to be elected or are you more interested in your so-called integrity? Because you'd better make up your mind fast. I can't promote a half-assed candidate!"

"Armando please," she began to plead, feeling the ground slipping out from under her. "You know I do want to win the election, but I just can't compromise in that way. You knew that right from the start!"

"Sandra baby," Armando wheedled, "it was difficult but I talked Bukowski round. But he won't wait forever! Now are you coming with me or not?"

Seeing her hesitate, he went on cajolingly: "Please, Sandra, you can trust me... " Sandra felt powerless. What was she to do? She couldn't blow the whole campaign by bowing out now. She knew she had angered Bukowski and felt sure that he wouldn't hesitate to bring the other union men around to his way of thinking. And together they all represented a big bloc of votes which could win or lose the election for her. She really had no option now but to put her faith in Armando.

Her re-entrance into the private dining room was greeted with loud boisterous cheers and a huge tankard brimming with beer was thrust into her hand.

"For she's a jolly good fellow... " rang out all around her and in that moment she really believed that Armando had done the impossible and swung the Teamsters back to her and that they were going to give her their endorsement. She had been right, she thought triumphantly as she raised her mug to her lips, she had stuck to her principles and won!

* * *

"... got... I'sh got to... to be... going going... " Could that slurred, uneven voice really be hers. No, surely it wasn't? But everything seemed strange now. The faces in the room were white blurs around her and she was aware of a strong pressure on her arm. Very slowly, she brought her head around and saw that it was Bukowski who held her in a vise-like grip.

"Ray... I'sh... I... going home... " Oh God, why had she drunk so much? Why hadn't she kept control over herself and refused the beers which the men had kept plying at her? She could have kept just one and taken sips from it, but it had been hard to refuse. Everyone seemed so friendly and when she had tried to bring up the subject of the garbage men again, nobody would listen to her. It was all fixed, they assured her, and she was not to bother her pretty little head about it. She was just to sit back and have a good time. And she had taken their advice. But now she had to leave. Tomorrow she had another crowded schedule and the last thing she wanted was a hangover. She wasn't drunk, anyway; her thoughts were perfectly clear, it was just that her voice and locomotion weren't under complete control. A few minutes out in the air would cure that. But where was Armando?

"You can't go yet, honey," Ray said, his mouth very close to her ear, "the party hasn't begun yet!" He closed one eye in a lascivious wink, and she couldn't stop herself from jerking back away from him.

"Armando... where...?"

"Don't worry none about him, sweetie, he'll be back in a minute. You just go right ahead and take your clothes off."

Sandra twitched convulsively as if she had been electrified. Good God, had she heard him right? "Take your clothes off?" What was going on? If only she could find Armando...

She looked around her, completely bewildered, aware that hands were reaching toward her, half-helping and half-pushing her up on the table. She wanted to resist, wanted to fight back, to tell everyone that there had been some dreadful mistake, but her tongue felt thick and heavy and she couldn't find the words in time, and besides, she was feeling dizzy and couldn't get her balance and she had to lie back against the table, flat on her back, until the reeling in her head stopped.

"Now get them duds off, honey!" someone leered, and she was sure that once again, she hadn't heard right. Why did they keep talking about her taking her clothes off? If only Armando was here, he'd tell them about the mistake they were making and he'd take her home...

Hands were crawling over her again, and this time they were pulling at her blouse, unzipping her skirt, easing it down over her hips...

"Oh God stop... please stop... " she whimpered suddenly, making a supreme effort to coordinate her voice and gather her strength. She tried to sit up, aware that her blouse was open and that someone had unhooked her brassiere, and that her skirt was gone and that she was wearing only her panties and stockings. Out of the weaving mass of faces in front of her, she thought she could make out Ray Bukowski, cigar still grasped between his teeth.

"Oh please Ray, tell them to stop... let me go home, please... " Bukowski moved closer to her, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the roseate nipples that peaked her firm white breasts.

"Take it easy honey, we're just going to have a party. Just like Armando promised." Sandra stared at him, her eyes dull with horror, her mouth half open in petrified shock. "Armando... promised?"

"Sure did, sweetie. Said you were all for it, anything to help you in the election. I told him it's fine by us... us teamsters appreciate a pretty gal when we see one... " Sandra sank back in mute misery. Oh dear God in heaven, was it really true? Did Armando tell them that she'd do this... get undressed in front of them and do God only knew what else... for the sake of the campaign? What kind of a scheming bastard was he? Dear lord, if she survived this night, it would be the end for Armando. She'd had enough of his tricks, his sneakiness, the indignities he had heaped upon her. Sure, she'd do almost anything for the campaign, but this was too much. But you let him make love to you last night so you wouldn't forfeit your chance in the election! her conscience reminded her. But I... I was in love with him she protested silently. Yes, she had been, even though she hadn't realized it at the time. It was true that he had forced her to submit initially because he had threatened her about ruining her chances, but...

"C-christ, I can see her pussy!"

The excited voice brought her back with painful sharpness to the present, and the terrible, humiliating realization that she was by now completely naked, her clothes strewn around her, in full view on the dining table, now completely naked, her clothes strewn around her, in full view on the dining table, surrounded by gaping, leering teamsters.

Panic seized her, goading her into shaking off for a few short seconds the paralyzing effects of too much beer, and without taking time to think, she jumped down from the table and hurtled herself toward the door. But before she reached it, someone grabbed her, stopping her headlong flight, and making her fall in a crumpled heap on the floor, legs and arms akimbo. Oh God, what was she going to do now? She felt all her energy draining from her and once more the crippling dizziness clouded her brain, leaving her unable to think, barely able to speak.

"Oh please, don't... " she began and then stopped, as tears rushed down her face and she abandoned herself to the shuddering sobs which wracked her body.

The union president was hunching down beside her, his eyes darting furtively over her naked, shapely body, cigar forgotten as he stared at the unhappy brunette on the carpet. The other teamsters were huddled in a group, unwilling to make a further move but unable to take their eyes off the hapless woman in their midst.

Sandra was terror-stricken. She had no idea what was going to happen next, and she couldn't speak coherently to beg Ray or anyone to take her home. As for Armando...

Bukowski edged even closer to her, his eyes hard and lustful, and instinctively she cringed back. Without taking his gaze from her, he slowly took the cigar out of his mouth and callously ground it out in the carpet.

A slow sneering grin split his face, and fresh waves of panic darted through the agonized brunette.

"I sure know what I'm gonna do with this pretty lady," he drawled, as he slowly and insistently began to caress her, his hand resting first on her breast, squeezing her nipple until she almost cried out in pain, and then sliding down her quivering body until it came to her hip, where it stopped briefly before slipping in between her tightly clamped thighs. Immediately she could feel his leathery flesh against the quivering moist skin between her legs, and her breath almost stopped as she felt the pressure as he tried to force them apart.

"Now open them legs wide honey, and give ol' Ray a glimpse of that nice tight cunt of yours!"

The other men were mumbling excitedly among themselves and a miasma of hopelessness descended on Sandra. There was no way out for her! She could scream for help, if she found her voice, but who would hear her, and even if they did, would they brave this rowdy bunch of teamsters and interfere? She could beg for mercy, but it hadn't done much good so far, and besides, there was no mercy, not a sign of it, written in the lascivious faces around her. She was utterly and hopelessly lost, betrayed by her scheming, evil campaign manager, by her own thoughtlessness in drinking too much beer, and by, yes, face it, the force of her own political ambitions. She had often bragged that there was no sacrifice that she wouldn't make for her career; little did she think that she'd be called on to make good that boast in this terrible way!

There was no use in trying to keep her thighs together; she instinctively knew that Bukowski, excited as he seemed to be now, would almost break her legs in order to get his way. He certainly had the physical strength to do it!

"Man, look at that sweet little cunt!" someone gasped as the unprotected slit of her vagina came into view. She felt Bukowski's hands, clammy and strong, against her inner thighs, forcing them further apart, until she wanted to cry out with the strain, and she would have, except that no sound came. Even her own physical capabilities had betrayed her.

She watched, through half-closed disbelieving eyes as Bukowski began to settle himself between her widespread legs, his eyes still staring fixedly at the defenseless furrow in front of him. Horrified, she could see the tip of his tongue as it darted out from between his lips and flicked over them in a crudely obscene gesture. Then he began to move his crew-cutted head closer to her, until she could feel his hot, cigar-scented breath on her most sensitive and secret part. He was inching closer to her, as she lay there, paralyzed and frozen with shock, wishing that she'd lose consciousness or in some way not be aware of a new, slight movement on one side of her, and at the same time as she recognized Armando's silent, swarthy face, she heard Ray Bukowski say, his mouth only inches from her trembling vagina.

"Hey Armando! I'm gonna eat her cunt, just like you said!"

Seconds later, she felt the first hot lash of his tongue as it raked along her moist, pulsating slit, at the same time as the impact of his words branded themselves into her dazed brain. Armando had planned it! He had told Bukowski that he could... could do this foul thing to her! This what he meant by "fixing things up"! Oh God, he had arranged all this!

Fresh tears coursed down her face and she knew she had never felt as miserable in her life. She was sure she would never, no matter how long she lived, overcome the feelings of shame and degradation which were engulfing her as she lay there naked, a helpless victim of Bukowski's snaking tongue as it slithered up and down her quivering vagina, and in front of all these leering men as well. She closed her eyes in anguish, hoping it would block out all sensation, as it did the view of Armando and the others standing around her, but most of all, the view of the graying head of the union leader as he crouched between her widespread legs.

Armando stared down silently at the sight of Sandra, miserable and supine, her legs spread far apart. He could just see the glistening pink of her outer pussy lips, and the fluted inner edges as Bukowski's tongue dipped and danced around the sensitively squirming flesh. He wouldn't mind being in the union president's place himself, getting a taste of her sweet, wet pussy, feeling the softness of her thighs against his face. He knew that she was terrified and shocked, just as she had been last night when he had forced her to let him fuck her. He was sorry that things had to get this far, but there was no other way that he could pacify Bukowski after the sparring match he'd had with Sandra. Even the promise that Sandra would tip the Teamsters about the garbage men's election date ahead of time didn't appease him. He insisted that he'd probably get as much from Blake, the incumbent, which was true, and he had insisted on something extra. And man, he'd been pleased at the "extra" that Armando had promised.

Now, Valdez thought, he'd have to worry about how to win Sandra over again. She'd be sure to want to fire him, to call off the campaign, even, she'd be so mad, and he couldn't really blame her. He doubted that she'd fall for that "sacrifices for your career routine" again, but anyway, he'd think of something. He always had in the past; all he needed was some time. Meanwhile, he just wished it was himself who was there on his hands and knees, instead of Bukowski, his tongue trailing into the warm succulent flesh of Sandra's helpless cunt. He wished that he was tasting the honeyed nectar of her pussy, that his tongue was titillating her hard little clitoris, that the hair-fringed outer lips of her cleft were rimming his nose and mouth... Man, he'd give anything to be in Bukowski's place right now!

Sandra didn't think she could take it anymore. She could feel every touch of the union president's tongue, every tormenting flicker as it moved slowly in and out of her moistly trembling vagina. His hands were tightly clenched around her thighs and the wet, sucking sounds he was making added to her feeling of utter degradation.

"Oh please stop! Please don't... " she begged, but stopped when she felt the warning pressure of his fingers in her soft smooth flesh. It was no use; it would only be the worst for her if she protested; she was hopelessly outnumbered, and none of the men, standing there mesmerized with lust, would help her. She was alone, heartbreakingly defenseless!

"Jeez, Ray sure likes that cunt he's eatin!" somebody snickered, and there was an assenting chorus of varying vehemence.

"It sure looks like first class table nookie to me!" another voice leered, and once again, there was complete agreement.

Mortification blushed through her as she listened to their comments. They were all watching her, seeing every movement of her naked body, watching every lewd motion of Bukowski's lascivious tongue. They were enjoying her submission, the fact that she was an unwilling captive of the union president's tonguing and slavering. They didn't care that she was degraded to the very marrow of her bones; they were interested only in their own vicarious enjoyment of the debauched act they were watching. They just couldn't care less about her feelings.

Bukowski continued his probing, licking movements, reveling in the warm, moist flesh that surrounded his nose and mouth, enjoying the feeling of his own breath as it came back to him from the depths of her quivering body. His tongue was ceaseless in its activity, searching, poking, discovering all the secrets of her unwilling body. It flicked at the hardening tip of her clitoris, feeling life surge through it, making it come out of hiding from between the damp curls of her pubic hair.

Sandra held her breath as Ray's tongue played along the reddish button of her clitoris, until she finally had to exhale in one long shuddering gasp. A strange but familiar sensation was starting inside her, one which she acknowledged uncomprehendingly, her eyes now opening wide in horror. Surely this couldn't happen now... surely the shock, the horror, the sheer degradation of what was happening to her was enough to kill any feeling that tried to assert itself in her body. But as his marauding tongue continued to torment her burgeoning little bud, she knew that she was gone beyond all hope of redemption. In spite of her abject misery, m spite of the grotesque circle of leering faces around her, in spite of her continued pain, horror, unhappiness, her body was beginning to respond to Bukowski's unwanted tonguing of her vagina. Terrible as it was, she had to face the truth, the fact, that once again she had plummeted to those unspeakable depths; this time, she would surely never rise from them again.

"Hey, she's beginning to dig it!"

The coarse voice, affirming her own secret knowledge, was the catalyst which unleashed her restraint and made her not care any more about anything. Armando, the campaign, the lascivious group of teamsters -- everything was negated in the face of the pleasure she was getting from Ray's expert tongue as it frisked and twisted in the inner folds of her vagina. She felt the tip of it prod tentatively at the petal-shaped edges of her cuntal orifice, teasing and titillating, and then, without any more warning, he stiffened it and rammed it up into her now eagerly welcoming passage.

Oh God... she was enjoying this tongue-fucking; she liked the feeling of it inside her as it slid up into her warmly contracting sheath. She wanted to suck it right up inside her, to feel its pleasure giving surface right up in her womb. She didn't want to let it go when he pulled it out to swirl around her outer lips. She almost gasped with passion when he finally slid its long pink length inside her again and she couldn't stop herself from grinding her hips up against his face, and tightening her thighs against his cheeks.

"Chrissakes, she really loves Ray's tongue in her pussy! She loves him eating out her cunt!"

This time, the obscene words only added to her pleasure. In fact, everything did, even her own shattering position, her complete subjugation to the teamsters. She had drunk far too much beer, but she no longer cared. She was being watched intently by a group of lewd teamsters, their eyes glued on the sight of their leader crouched between her legs, his face masked by the churning plane of her writhing vagina, but she didn't care. She had been cruelly betrayed by Armando, but that didn't matter either. All she cared about was the delicious ripples of pleasure which continually shuddered along her spine, and the incredible sensations which were permeating her entire body, making her moan and move with abandoned excitement.

And now the moment was here; her body, submissive from all the beer and everything else that had been done to it, was no opponent for the forces of pleasure which took over, ousting her spirit and her pride and her indignation, making her a helpless victim once again. Only this time, she didn't mind at all.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh... Ohhhhhhhh... I'm cumming!!" she gasped suddenly, as her back arched right up off the carpet, and her arms and legs stiffened with sudden rigidity. Then she collapsed back down and she was pumping her pelvis up against Ray's imprisoned face, mashing her desire-burning clitoris and wetly spasming pussy against his tongue and mouth, feeling her inner floodgates bursting open and releasing the hot drenching shower of her orgasmic juices.

"Mmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnn... aaarrr- ggghhh... " she sighed again as tremor after tremor shook her twitching frame and rivulets of warm lava cascaded up and down her body, fed by the explosions and implosions which started in the hotly pulsating furrow of her pussy, and travelled in every direction to spread their fiery warmth in every part of her. She was finding release, for the moment, not only from her pent-up natural feelings resurrected by Bukowski's ceaseless tonguing, but also from the horror of what she was going through. She exulted in that few minutes respite from reality, knowing that all too soon she would have to face it again and she didn't know if she had the strength and the wherewithal to do it.

But that would be later. Right now, all there was to concern her was pure, indescribable pleasure, warm, enveloping aftermath and blissful nirvana which almost made up for everything.

When the first naked man knelt over her, she smiled languidly and reached up her arms to pull him down into her. And his long hard cock driving up into her belly brought a wail of rapture bubbling from her lust-constricted throat. It was only then that she admitted to herself that she didn't want this night to end. She wanted every man there...

CHAPTER FIVE

Armando pulled on his cigarette and looked hard at the paunchy, middle-aged man who was impatiently drumming his fingers on the desk.

"I'm telling you, Sebastian," he said insistently, "it's all fixed. I had a meeting yesterday with Fletcher Washington -- you know that dude that's head of the N.A.A.C.P. here, and he and other leaders of the Druid Hall and other neighborhood groups have got together and promised their bloc vote to Ryan. There's nothing to worry about!"

"Well," Senator Long replied after a short silence, "if you can be sure that he can be trusted. You know how these... "

"Washington's all right. He'll be getting a lot of flak from civil rights groups, but he can manage it."

The Senator shook his head and smiled. His hair was still dark, although it was winged with silver at the sides, and his blue eyes had a piercing, shrewd look.

"I've got to hand it to you, Armando," he praised. "How the hell did you manage to sell Washington on Ryan? I've know Jay Ryan for years, and even I sometimes think that "right-winger" is far too liberal a description of him!"

Armando laughed, as he felt some of the tension ease from his body.

"Well, I did whitewash some of his record, and pointed up some things that made him look as if he's loosening up a bit, like his stand on the E.R.A. But the main thing is, Fletcher's set his sights on the transit system. There's talk that the present chief there... eh, what's his name?... anyway that he'll resign, and I hinted to Fletcher that we'd do what we could, that we wouldn't forget him anyway."

"But what about Sandra Halston?" was the Senator's next worry.

"Well, she's getting more support than I thought she would," Armando had to admit, "but Baltimore's a pretty conservative city, and there's a helluva lot of people who just won't go for a broad at the polls. I think Mark, particularly because he's the incumbent, is pretty safe."

"You've really been busy pushing her, all the same," Sebastian pursued cleverly, his penetrating blue eyes fixed quizzically on Armando.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Valdez shrugged.

"Believe me, I know what I'm doing. As I said, Blake's pretty secure, so it doesn't do any harm to push Sandra. Old Menzie, the other incumbent has had it. Everyone knows he's almost senile, and Jay's a cinch for that seat.

He's got all the Irish behind him as well as most of the old die-hard conservatives. Putting all the limelight on Sandra takes attention away from Ryan and pretty well ensures that he slips in."

"Well, I hope you're right," Long said, "I hope you can pull it off all right." Then, after a pause, "I hear the Teamsters have endorsed her after that meeting last Friday. The Longshoremen will probably go the same way, don't you think?"

Armando permitted himself a small smile as he remembered the rowdy meeting with the beer drivers, and the lascivious outcome to it. But his answer was perfectly serious.

"I imagine they will... Sandra has a sure-fire way of winning even old die-hards like Bukowski over... "

"She sounds like some woman. I'd sure like to meet her, personally, you know. A nod from me would do her a lot of good and I'd be interested to see if her "sure-fire" way would win me over... " Armando's heart skipped a beat. Had the Senator heard something about the wild ending to the meeting? Had word leaked about the way in which Sandra had finally convinced Bukowski to endorse her? Or to put it more correctly, how Armando himself had engineered things so that Bukowski was appeased and Sandra... and Sandra, well, furthered her political career?

But Senator Long's face was unreadable, and Armando quickly regained his composure.

"Tell you what, Senator, first let's talk about my friend Attorney Williams, and that judgeship you mentioned when we first got together to talk about this election. Then maybe we can rap a little bit about how that seat on the School Board is opening up, and how suitable my qualifications are. Then, we can talk about the little lady alderman, and how you two can get together... " Sebastian laughed without malice.

"All right Armando, you son of a gun! You win -- we'll talk turkey first, and then we'll get down to business about Miss Halston... just so long as she and me can get together pretty soon!"

* * *

Sandra agreed readily enough to meet Senator Long. Of course she had been introduced to him before, but Armando insisted that this new meeting would be an important one for her, and she didn't question him any further. Since Friday, when she had attended that meeting of the teamsters, which had culminated in her being drunkenly forced to succumb to Bukowski's oral love-making and the orgy that followed, she just went along with the program. She was utterly confused and just didn't know where she stood. Her first impulse, to fire Armando, she quickly quelled, because she knew it would mean the end of all her ambitions. This was a good time to get started in politics, when the whole country was riding the crest of the women's movement wave, and if she didn't take advantage of the new tolerant ambience, she might lose her chance for years, or maybe even never regain it. So, as usual she had to weigh both sides of the question and found that she had to shelve her personal feelings and viewpoints and lose herself completely in the role that political life demanded of her. Actually, Carole had been surprisingly helpful in helping her to see things as they were.

She recalled the younger woman's concerned look when she had come into the office that Saturday morning, broken in spirit, ready to chuck it all in.

"I heard what happened last night," the lovely young blonde said immediately, her voice gentle with sympathy.

Sandra had to fight back her tears.

"It was all Armando's fault! How could he do it to me? To sell me like that, as if I was a piece of merchandise. He must have no feeling whatsoever... he's almost inhuman!"

"That's his karma," Carole assured her, "and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"Of course," admitted the quintessentially honest Sandra, "it was partly my fault too. I just shouldn't have drunk so much. If I hadn't, I would have realized that someone like Ray Bukowski wouldn't change his views in a matter of minutes, and I would never have let things go the way they did!"

"But drunk or not, what could you have done?"

Sandra was silent. Carole was right of course; she had been hopelessly outnumbered; they were stronger than she was and besides, Armando was on their side. It had been hopeless from the start.

"But the worst thing was... was that I... I... " Sandra couldn't finish her anguished confession.

"That you had an orgasm while Bukowski was tongue-fucking you and that you really enjoyed the gang-bang following?"

Sandra was shocked by the younger woman's frank words.

"So Armando told you that too, did he?" she lashed out, stung to the quick.

"Oh you know what Armando's like," Carole side-stepped vaguely. "But really, it isn't your fault!"

"I know, but still, I feel horrible about it. I just don't know what to do now."

"What is there to do?" Carole wondered, coming straight to the point. "Just keep on the way you have been doing, that's all!"

"But how can I, if Armando's still the campaign manager? After what he did?" Sandra was really agitated now, and her face was pale and drawn.

"Look Sandra," Carole said matter-of- factly, "you want to win the election. Think of all the good you can do when you're elected. It'd be wrong to give up now, just because you let yourself go. Just forget about it and go ahead with the campaign. If nothing else, Armando's a good manager... you can't deny that!"

Horrified as she was by the younger woman's advice, she had to admit that Carole was right. To give up now was selfish and unfair... her constituents were depending on her. Certainly, what Armando had done was unforgivable, but as Carole had said earlier, that was his "karma" and there was nothing she could do about it. She had a purpose in life, and when she had won the election, she'd be in a better position to clamp down on exploitation of all kinds.

"Oh Carole, you're so right!" she said impulsively, grateful for the lovely blond's advice.

But already Carole had undergone one of her swift personality changes which constantly puzzled Sandra.

"That's the trouble with you Taurus people," she was saying now in her vague, wandering way. "You're full of ambition, but yet you want to please everyone and make everyone like you."

Sandra smiled to herself and shook her head. It's because she's a Gemini, she found herself thinking and was pleased to discover how much better and happier she suddenly felt.

* * *

She liked Senator Long immediately. He was the type of sophisticated older man she admired, and she found his smooth, polished manners a real antidote to someone like Bukowski, whom she remembered now with a shudder. She was polite but distant with Armando, who had also come with her to the Senator's office. Carole accompanied them too, and Sandra grateful for her presence, as she had her usual soothing effect on everyone. It was an informal visit, and soon everyone was sipping a drink. Sandra felt sure that she was making a good impression on the suave political veteran.

"I hear you persuaded the Teamsters to support you," he said after the flow of chit-chat had stopped. "That's no mean feat, I can assure you. but of course, Bukowski's a soft touch for a pretty lady like yourself!"

Sandra felt insulted by his remark, and wanted to rush to her own defence. But she couldn't really, because there was only too much truth in his sly insinuation.

"I'm glad of course that I've got their endorsement, Senator," she said, picking her words carefully. "But I am really a serious politician, and I feel sure that my views and political record are what's important, and not my appearance, or anything else." "Well, if what I've heard is correct, it's your 'anything else' that did the trick, isn't that right, Armando?"

Sandra had a sinking feeling and felt a blush of mortification straining her cheeks. Oh God, was the nightmare starting again? Had everybody been right when they had warned her that politics was still a sexist game, and that the old-timers would expect her to pay her way for every step she took up the political ladder? She had laughed at her advisers, assuring them that things had changed, but her bitter experience of the last week was proving them right and her wrong.

. . that Sandra is completely dedicated. She's only interested in winning this election, and she considers no sacrifice too great to make!"

"It's encouraging to see dedication in young people," Long said somewhat pompously, "although we oldsters can still give you a lesson or two. You can't beat political savvy when it comes to pulling in the votes. And take my word for it, honey, as someone who knows what it's all about, there's a foolproof way for you to make it to the top!"

The older man was looking at her in a familiar, heart-stopping way, but she stared resolutely ahead.

"And what way is that?" she inquired coldly.

"Why, the way you've discovered, with the help of our good friend Armando here!" he went on inexorably. "The way that worked with Bukowski... and which will work with me!" Sandra couldn't stand it any longer. The strength which had seen her through this far in the campaign came to her aid.

"I'm sick of this goddamn talking in circles," she exploded uncharacteristically. "And I'm sick of all your assumptions that I'm not serious about my work, that I can be bought or used sexually! Yes, I did get the Teamsters vote of confidence in a disgusting way, and I'm ashamed of it. But I was tricked and forced into it and it won't happen again!"

"That's not what your campaign manager told me," Long said smoothly. "He assured me that you'd be willing to do a little favor for me, and that way you'd have the whole thing wrapped up, what with my endorsement and the other union's support, which you'll probably get at the end of the week."

Sandra's eyes were blazing and she no longer cared what damage she might do with her belligerent attitude.

"And what'll happen if I don't do you a little favor?"

The Senator hesitated before answering. And when he did, his voice was measured, and he didn't look at her... he was intently examining his fingernails.

"First of-all, I'll drop a word to the press about how you are involved with your campaign manager... " Both Sandra and Carole gasped audibly at the same time, the older woman from disbelief and fury at both Armando and the unscrupulous senator, and Carole from what had been revealed to her for the first time.

"Yes, I know all about your tete a tete in Armando's apartment... I'm sure the papers would make a field day of it!"

"Go on!" Sandra demanded through clenched teeth.

"Then I think it would be only fair to point out to the public that Ray Bukowski should withdraw his endorsement, considering the circumstances under which he gave it. He's an exemplary family man, you know, a bastion of respectability in his neighborhood. And everybody knows what these new women are like... " Sandra bowed her head. She felt utterly defeated. Oh God, she was trapped. She had been embroiled from the very first, when she had been unable to tear herself away from the sight of Carole sucking Armando's penis. He had used that as a lever to force her to succumb to his love-making, and she, fool that she had been, had convinced herself that she was in love with him. From there, it had been only another drunken step to the fiasco with the Teamsters... had she been snared once again?

"Are you blackmailing me?" she hissed furiously, determining to keep up an aggressive front.

"Well," the Senator drawled, "if you want to be frontal about it, to use popular jargon, yes, I am!"

Sandra looked around her helplessly. Armando was non-committal and she knew that once more, he had taken matters in his own hands and promised her compliance in return for political favors. But the big surprise was Carole, who was glaring at her vehemently, all docility and gentleness gone from her attractive features. For a moment, Sandra was puzzled. Good God, could she be jealous? Was the lovely blond's attitude of brotherly love and toleration just a facade? Was she now furious with Sandra because she and Armando had made love?

However, she didn't have time to ponder this new development, because Armando was adding his two cents worth.

"What difference does it make to you, Sandra? We've all got to compromise sooner or later, and the Senator thinks you're an attractive, desirable woman. You've got nothing to lose and everything to gain by being nice to Sebastian. And if you're not, well, that's the end of your career hopes, isn't it?"

"You dirty double-crosser!" she stormed at her campaign manager. "You've tricked me every step of the way. You're nothing but a -- "

"C'mon Carole, let's get outa here!" Armando urged, interrupting Sandra's tirade and grabbing the attractive young blonde by the arm.

"I'm staying to watch the action," Carole surprisingly insisted. "I've been hearing so much lately about Sandra's prowess, I've got to see for myself!" She cast a look of dislike mingled with wariness at the hapless brunette, and her shapely lips formed a defiant pout. It was obvious that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Sandra honey," the Senator said, looking pointedly at his watch, "I've got to get out of here soon and well, what's it going to be?" Sandra looked around her as she slowly swallowed the remainder of her drink. She just didn't know what to do. Armando looked cold and unapproachable, as if he had removed himself mentally from the scene, although it was obvious that he was going to stay, because Carole was. The lovely blonde was sitting silently, still showing her negative feelings, her face unusually stern. And Senator Long was looking at her with a hard lascivious stare. Unable to stop herself, her eyes dropped to his crotch and she couldn't help seeing that there was a discernible bulge there.

"Yes, that's right, Sandra," she heard him say, as her eyes flew guiltily to his face. "I have a hard-on!"

And as she stood there watching, her brain reeling as if she were in the middle of some terrible nightmare, she saw him drop his hand and open his fly.

"But I... I haven't... " she began, and then stopped as she saw that he had brought out the throbbing red length of his erection.

"You haven't what?" he inquired coldly, as his fingers tightened around his palpitating shaft.

Oh dear God, what was she to do! She couldn't refuse, although everything in her rebelled at the thought of having anything to do sexually with this slippery politician. If only she could think, come up with some idea that would forestall the Senator, give her time to work out what her strategy should be.

"Go on," Armando urged from the sideline, "go ahead and suck the Senator's cock!"

Her face blanched and she turned her venom-filled eyes on her campaign manager.

"What are you waiting for?" Armando taunted, "you know how to do it! Remember, you watched long enough that time when Carole was giving me head!"

This time, Carole broke the silence.

"For crying out loud!" she exclaimed angrily, "not only does she steal my man, but she's a peeping tom as well!"

In spite of her mounting rage and anger, directed at all three of them, Sandra couldn't help thinking how ironic Carole's conventional thinking was, she who preached live and let live, who seemed to be so casual about her relationships. It was all a front apparently... scratch the surface and you found a typical teen-ager, insecure and jealous!

Sebastian Long interrupted her tangential reverie.

"Sandra, I'm getting tired of standing here with a hard-on fit to bust! I guess your career just isn't that important to you after all!"

But the unhappy brunette was frozen into immobility. Oh God, what he wanted her to do... an image of how Carole had looked that time, down on her knees, her full sensuous lips ovaled around Armando's glistening rod, her eyes closed in pleasure, as she moved her mouth up and down the pulsating surface of his penis, her fingers buried in the dark nest of hairs at its base, her other hand cradling his wrinkled balls as carefully as if they were precious jewels...

"For Chrissakes Sandra," Armando hissed, "grab his cock before you blow everything!"

This can't be happening to me, she thought irrelevantly, and then she found herself moving with wooden footsteps closer to the waiting older man, found herself dropping to her knees, and more incredibly, reaching over and grasping his hard, pounding shaft between her fingers. It felt firm and warm and she couldn't help noticing how throbbingly alive it seemed or how the blood seemed to course wildly through its long tingling tube.

"Atta girl!" the insensitive Armando encouraged her. "Now start stroking and caressing it!" His eyes bulging with excitement, and it was obvious that he was enjoying the sight of the shocked brunette down on her knees, that he was turned on by the fact that she was appalled by the realization that she was holding the Senator's fully erect penis in her hand.

In fact, Sandra had, fortunately, a feeling of detachment. It was almost as if another person was performing the act which so reviled her, as if somebody else had responded to Armando's barked commands, to Senator Long's blackmailing hints. Thank God that I at least had that drink! she told herself as she started to caress the warmly pulsating organ between her fingers, and to run them up and down slowly along its rigid length.

"God! Your fingers feel good on my prick, Sandra!" Long gasped, as tingles of pleasure cavorted along his backbone and eddied out to every part of his body.

"All right now honey, lick it! You can start kissing his cock now!" Armando urged, his voice thick and raspy with excitement. Carole, too, was staring avidly at the Senator's lustfully distended penis, her resentment of the older brunette fading as she became engrossed in what she was watching. After all, tit for tat, she thought triumphantly. Sandra had watched her that night when she was doing the same thing to Armando, and it was her turn now!

The other part of Sandra, the part which had become robotized by all she had endured over the past week, now did as she was bid, and reaching out with her hesitant tongue, she touched the burning flesh in front of her. Well, it wasn't so bad after all, she thought, as she tentatively began to dab and test with her tongue, feeling the vibrations that rippled through his outstretched penis as the Senator shivered with growing pleasure. She carefully touched the hard rubbery head, brushing against the glans opening at the tip, and was rewarded by a low moan of pleasure from Long, whose hands had now dropped to her head and were tangling in her glossy dark hair.

Armando was beside himself as he watched, and he could feel an awakening urge in his own cock, and would liked to have pulled it out and let Carole get to work on it, or even, failing that, jerk off himself, but he knew instinctively that the Senator would look askance at any such action on his part. Senator Long stood very much on his dignity, Valdez knew, and he had too much at stake to risk jeopardizing everything now. So he contented himself with being a bystander, participating in the only way he could.

"That's it, Sandra!" he rasped, "you're doing real good. Keep on licking and kissing it!"

Sandra of course was irritated by his voice and by his presence but there was nothing she could do. She wondered briefly what Carole was thinking and how was she reacting. She didn't dare to probe too deeply into her own feelings about what she was being forced to do... if she did, disgust and anger and humiliation might make her do something she'd really regret later.

"For God's sake, put it in your mouth!" the Senator suddenly demanded, his fingers tightening threateningly in her hair. "Put my cock in your mouth and start sucking."

This was it! The moment she had dreaded had come and nothing apocalyptic had happened to prevent it. There was no turning back or getting out of it. Yes there is! an inner voice assured her. You don't have to submit to this! You don't have to let Armando and the Senator bully and humiliate you like this! You can say "no" and they won't stop you! They're not drunk like the teamsters that time! You're free to do what you like... the choice is yours!

She stopped her half-hearted kissing of Long's penis, startled by her own thoughts. But my career! I'll be finished here in politics if I don't comply... Long will ruin me!

Oh God, why did she have to make this decision? She had tried throughout her campaign to be honest and sincere... how could she have landed in this mess?

It's only a seat on the City Council! You're only running for Alderman, not president of the country. You can start all over again... the main thing is to keep your integrity!

But the rational part of her brain just wouldn't, couldn't accept that reasoning. All her life seemed to have been geared toward just this point, when she would run for office, and she couldn't, just couldn't throw it all away now for a... for a what? Oh God, she didn't know... she just knew she couldn't refuse to do something, the effect of which would be a negation of the last twenty-three years... it was too much to ask!

"What are you waiting for?" The Senator demanded irritably. "My cock's on fire... put it in your mouth or I'll die!"

Desperately, the miserable brunette tried to damp down all thoughts, to block out all questions and rationales from her demented brain. It was the only way... she'd think about it all later. Right now, all she had to do was...

Every nerve in her body was tensed as she slowly, cautiously opened her mouth wide, and enclosed just the tip of Long's blood-inflated penis between her lips.

"Mmmmmmmmnnnn... aaaahhhhh... " the Senator sighed blissfully as he felt her soft warm mouth engulf his pulsating shaft and the thrilling sensation of her tongue as it flicked around the burgeoning, enveloped head.

She had his penis in her mouth... she had done it and there was no turning back now! She closed her eyes and blotted out the office and everything and everybody in it, just as she blotted out all emotional awareness of what she was doing.

"Slide your mouth up and down his prick!" Armando instructed, his voice lewdly distorted. "Do it just like you saw Carole doing it to me that time!" he added cruelly.

But Sandra was past being upset or hurt in any way by Armando. She was completely numb, both in mind and spirit, and she performed her enforced task somewhat like an automaton. She was vaguely thankful that it wasn't as bad as she had expected; the thick pulsing rod in her mouth had an alluring, piquant taste and she derived a certain satisfaction from feeling the answering throbs of pleasure each time she pressed her lips close together or ran her tongue along the veinous underside.

She held it firmly between her fingers at the thick base, and she could feel his crisp pubic curls brushing against her hand. She developed a slow rhythmic motion as she moved her circled lips up and down, taking it almost to the hilt in her mouth, until she felt the knobby head thrusting against he larynx, and then she eased the full distended length out, until just the rubbery bulbous protuberance at the top was still enclosed.

"Don't forget to stroke his balls!" Armando said crudely from his place on the sidelines. His face was blotched with evidence of his arousal, and his eyes were glistening with barely suppressed lust. He couldn't tear his enraptured gaze away from the sight of Sandra on her knees in front of Senator Long, whose long hard penis was embedded between her lovely red lips. Carole too, silently watching, was immersed in the lascivious scene, and the tip of her moist pink tongue was visible as it flicked eagerly over her own half-parted lips.

Sandra reached down and cradled Sebastian's sperm-bloated balls in her free hand. She could feel them squirming and writhing in her clasp and she began to caress them gently, aware of the Senator's responding spasms of pleasure.

"Oh God Sandra... I love the way you suck my cock!" Long blurted as he began to thrust his palpitating penis harder up into her warmly sucking mouth. Strangely, his impassioned words of praise sent a little tingle to excitement scudding through her. Well, at least she was doing a good job of it, even if her heart wasn't wholly in it. she was pleased to realize that she was probably doing it as well as Carole had that time, and almost imperceptibly, she increased the strength and intensity of her sucking, slavering movements, dipping and twirling her tongue rapidly under and over the blood-hard shaft in her mouth. Her hand pumped rhythmically on the Senator's churning scrotum, and she was sure that it was growing and expanding under her touch.

Man, she's beginning to like sucking and licking his prick! Armando thought, excited at the realization of the change that had come over the brunette as well as at the sight of her now eagerly clasping mouth as it glided smoothly up and down the Senator's desire-inflated length. She'll... she'll choke! he muttered to himself, as he watched, mouth agape with astonishment, as the willing brunette took almost all of the wetly glistening penis deep in her mouth.

Sandra gave herself over completely to what she was doing, mesmerized by the rhythm she herself had established, her senses permeated completely with the smell and taste of Senator Long's wildly jerking penis as it thrust blindly up into her mouth. Instinct took over and guided the frenzy of her sucking, licking and kissing, making her slaver greedily all over his quivering shaft, making her knead frantically on his seething balls.

"Oh Christ... I can't hold back much longer!" he groaned above her as he began to fuck his pelvis against her face and she felt enveloped completely in the aura of his maleness. His words branded themselves on her brain and she was surprised at how calmly she took them... she just kept on sucking and licking and squeezing with mouth and hand until "Aaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhh... I'm... I'm... I'M CUUUUUUMMMMMMMMIIII- NNNNNGGGGG... " Before his hoarsely uttered words had time to register, she felt the fiery eruption in his balls, and seconds later, the first heated onrush of his roiling sperm cascaded into her mouth. For a moment, she tasted its salty tang and then she gulped it down, the way she had seen Carole do that fateful time, and the way her instinct guided her. Her cheeks ballooned and hollowed as the thick hot stream gushed into her mouth, filling it until she thought she couldn't take any more, but she did... she was careful not to spill a single drop.

Armando and Carole both stared in lewd fascination as the completely aroused Senator -- his eyes glazed with lust and his mouth murmuring incoherent words of orgasm -- ejaculated endlessly between the kneeling brunette girl's wet clinging lips. They saw her throat move as she swallowed spurt after spurt of his seething white liquid, and couldn't help noticing the look of pleasurable satisfaction which shone like a beacon on her face. Long's desperate shuddering finally began to subside, and neither the aroused campaign manager nor the avidly watching blond missed the expression of obvious disappointment which clouded Sandra's face as she realized that it was over, that she had swallowed the last of his trickling semen, and that even now, the Senator's rapidly deflating penis was slipping wetly from between her glistening lips.

She had sucked the Senator's cock, drained him dry, thereby ensuring his support, and bringing her a step closer to victory. She had succumbed to Armando's threats and the Senator's promises, but mainly she had given in to the instinctive forces of her body which had taken over and shouted down the rational objections of her conventional thinking.

CHAPTER SIX

Sandra froze in horror, staring aghast at the telephone receiver she held in her hand. She had picked it up, and had become aware immediately that Armando was on the other extension. Good manners, as well as bitter experience, dictated that she refrained from eavesdropping, but her campaign manager's words, which she overheard, kept her riveted to the phone.

. . I'm telling you, Mark, I've tried everything, but she won't give up!"

Then came the unmistakably gruff voice of Mark Blake, the incumbent alderman; "Armando, pre-election polls show that she's gaining rapidly. I thought I could depend on you to fix thing up!"

"Don't worry, Mark," Armando assured him, "I've got one more trick up my sleeve. Frankly, I think everything's going to be all right... " Sandra's head was reeling, she could hardly believe the evidence of her own ears, and yet it was obvious that Armando, her campaign manager, was in cahoots with Mark Blake, her opponent! More incredibly still, it was apparent that they were in league to force her to give up her campaign... there could be no other explanation of that phone conversation. I have to think she told herself dazedly as she slipped quietly out of the office. She made her way quickly to her car, her thoughts a jumbled mass of questions and doubts. But the whole pattern was beginning to take form now, and things which had seemed inexplicable were now becoming clearer.

Armando wanted her to resign from the race: that much was certain. But if he did, why did he become her campaign manager? And why didn't he just slow down on the job, do everything in his power to detract from her without making it too obvious? Perhaps his plan was to continue the campaign, she thought feverishly, until it was too late for someone else to join the race, and then force her to quit, leaving Blake the undoubted winner, because Jack Wright, the other contender, wasn't seriously in the running. The infuriated brunette could feel her blood boiling and her mind seethed with suppressed rage. The dirty double-crossing bastard! she hissed from between anger-clenched teeth. A surge of stubborn strength welled up in her as she thought of all she had been through in the last ten days of the campaign. Apart altogether from the grueling round of door to door canvassing, meetings, rallies and conferences, she had the devasting experience of first seeing Carole and Armando engaged in oral- lovemaking, which had turned her on to such an extent that she had fingered herself to climax while watching them. Barely recovered from the remorse and mortification she felt over that, she had been blackmailed into submitting to Armando's attentions, which had been so skillful -- or else she was so love-starved -- that her body had responded completely. After that, he had cruelly instigated things so that she would have to endure Ray Bukowski's unwanted cunnilingus and the orgy that followed and only days ago, she had been coerced into performing fellatio on Senator Sebastian Long. Yes, she could see it now; Armando had hoped to humiliate and debase her to such an extent that she'd opt out of the campaign. Well, she hadn't, and by God, she wasn't going to! She had learned a lot about herself and other people in the last week, and what she had discovered had only reinforced her intentions to put herself in a position where she could do her part to help change things. Whatever new "trick" Armando had up his sleeve, as he phrased it, it couldn't be any worse than what she had already gone through and she wasn't going to give up now! Whatever he had in mind, she was sure she was ready for it...

* * *

But she was wrong.

The last big hurdle was a meeting with members of the Longshoremen's and Warehousemen's Union; they knew that she had gotten the endorsement of the Teamsters and they were willing to go the same way, providing they liked what she said. The president of Local #2 wasn't able to attend, but he sent the vice-president and treasurer, Bud Benton and Ginger Dowling, respectively, along. Benton was a big bear of a man, built like a Mack truck, with a coarse suggestive way of looking at her. His work-worn hands were huge, and strong and his burly frame suggested a man who didn't take any gruff from anyone, and who always got his way. Dowling was a slightly less stocky, freckled version of Benton, whose craggy face was topped by a blaze of carrot-red hair and who seemed willing to go along with whatever Bud said or did.

Benton came straight to the point: "Look honey, what we want is the contract for the new dock that's going to be opened early next year. Them guys from Local #6 in Sparrows Point are after it too and from what I hear, they just might get it, on account of all the race bullshit there is at the moment. You guarantee us that contract, and we can sew up a lot of neighborhoods for you. What d'ya say, sweetie?"

He moved his bullish head closer to hers, and she could smell the whisky on his breath. Both Armando and Carole were there, both silent and aloof. Carole, in fact, had been very cold and distant with her, and Sandra was sure it was because the younger woman was still piqued over her discovery of Armando's temporary involvement with her.

"I can see your point, Bud," she temporized sweetly, "but really I can't guarantee anything at this point. I can, of course, assure you a fair hearing when the bids come up but other than that... " and she spread her hands in a gesture of doubt. She was learning finally not to get on her high horse about her scruples and integrity; she found, to her cost, that an attitude like that only antagonized people like Benton. Best to keep a low profile, she now knew, and assuage people as best she could.

"That ain't enough, sweetie," Benton said, shaking his head. "Why, Mark Blake said that --"

"Well, if you think Blake can give you what you want, go ahead and give him your support!" she snapped, losing all patience. The truth was, she was still on edge from the effect of the phone call she had overheard yesterday and still hadn't worked out an effective plan of action. She pretended everything was all right with Armando, accepting his explanations and apologies about the incident with Senator Long, as she had done over the Ray Bukowski affair. But she was on to him now and she was learning to be shrewd enough not to let it show.

"Now let's not get to hasty, doll!" Benton intervened, surprised at her outburst. "Armando here said -- "

"Just what did Armando say?" she interrupted again, turning glacier eyes on her bewildered campaign manager.

Dowling, silent still now, snickered and piped up: "He said... uh... you'd be willing to talk, and maybe throw in something a little extra, like you did for Bukowski!"

Sandra felt herself getting angrier. Damn it, Armando must have told just about everyone about that terrible evening with the teamsters when the beer-drinking rowdy had turned into a gala, with her as the party piece. Her dislike of him grew by leaps and bounds with each passing day, and to think I thought I was in love with him! she reflected bitterly.

She turned to face her campaign manager.

"Well, what is it, this time, Armando?" she queried, her voice cold and weary. Valdez, for once, looked nonplussed, and didn't answer right away.

Suddenly, it was all too much for the overburdened brunette. Unable to help herself, she burst into helpless sobs, her whole body shaking uncontrollable. Tears rushed down he face, blinding her, and her trembling frame heaved with spasms of misery. Benton, Dowling and the other union men didn't know what to do, and looked sheepishly at each other. Armando, too, was shaken and at a loss. Carole, however, went over to the weeping older woman and gently put her arms around her.

"It's all right, Sandra... don't cry... everything's going to be all right... " Her voice was soothing and her arms felt comforting as she led Sandra out of the meeting room and into a smaller lounge which was directly off it.

"Here, lie down on the couch... you'll feel better in a few minutes... " Gratefully, Sandra accepted, all animosity toward the lovely blond forgotten. A woman, after all, was best and most sympathetic in a case like this. She lay back, with Carole's help, on the sofa which the lounge provided.

"I don't know what came over me," she sniffed, aware that Carole had taken off her shoes and was now loosening her dress.

"You'll feel better without your clothes," the considerate young blond insisted. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were almost going to faint. There must be a blanket around here somewhere. I'll tell everybody that you'll be all right in a little while." She was bustling around as she spoke, and did indeed find a light cotton blanket. Sandra overcame her own objections and let herself be mothered. She knew she had to be on the look-out for the "trick" that Armando had said that he had up his sleeve, but oh God, she was sick of being suspicious of everything and everybody, the way events of the past week or so were forcing her to be. Carole may have her own reasons for being concerned about her now, but goodness, it felt wonderful to just lie back and let herself be taken care of. And yes, it did feel better without her clothes... she even took off her brassiere and panties and snuggled up under the lightweight blanket. The men wouldn't dare come in here, and she was just going to relax for a few moments. If they waited for her to recover, well and good; and if not, well, she couldn't worry about that either. And she was glad, yes, glad, that she'd had that outburst... she was heartily sick of pandering to the desires and whims of her constituents, who seemed to think it was her bounden duty to fulfill them.

Carole returned in a couple of minutes, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"Everyone's going to wait till you're feeling better. They've ordered some beer, and Armando's going to talk to them and keep them happy. I'm going to stay here with you and make sure that you relax!"

Sandra smiled at the younger woman and held out her hand.

"Thank you so much, Carole, for being so kind. And I'm really sorry about what happened between Armando and me; it won't ever happen again, believe me!"

Carole smiled back, but her eyes remained unreadable. You're right; it won't happen again, was what she was thinking, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

* * *

Armando was satisfied. Things are working out even better than I'd hoped, he told himself as he helped himself to one of the beers that had appeared, as if by magic, when Carole and Sandra had left. He'd had a rough moment there when Sandra had lost her temper with Bud, but that moment had passed and now things were going well. Blake had been adamant on the phone yesterday about getting Sandra out of the race; with good reason -- time was running short. But it was even better this way. With only a week to go to the election, no one would dream of entering the race when Sandra dropped out. It was far too late. No one, not even Carole knew the full extent of the plans he had made. But she was turning out to be very useful and he knew that he could rely on the jealous young blonde to do her part and make Sandra finally give up. Yes, everything was just great...

* * *

Sandra jerked awake with a start. For a moment, she didn't know where she was or what had wakened her. Then, it came seeping back into her consciousness... the meeting with the guys from the Longshoremen's union, her outburst when she as good as told them to vote for Mark Blake, her subsequent breaking down into sobs, and her being comforted by Carole. And now...

What was happening? Someone was stroking her breast! God, it couldn't be... she must be dreaming. She tried to pull herself to a sitting position and then realized that there was someone on the couch with her. She could feel the hand enclosing the sensitive mound of her breast, the fingers drubbing teasingly at her already awakening nipple.

"Wh... who is it?" she whispered, her heart pounding heavily with fear. Was it Armando... or worse still, one of the union men, that she could hear even now laughing and talking loudly.

"Ssshhh, it'ss all right, Sandra, it's me... " a soft voice whispered, and the astonished brunette froze with disbelief.

It couldn't be? "W-what are you doing here?" Sandra gasped, trying to squirm away from the caressing hand which was still fondling her breast.

"Just lie back and relax... I'm just trying to make you feel better!"

Dazed with bewilderment, Sandra lay back, her brain dizzy from the realization of what was happening. Her short nap had made her fuzzy, and she was finding it difficult to coordinate herself and react properly to the shocking fact that Carole was on the sofa with her, and that it was the teen-aged blonde who was stroking her breast! She felt as if she had been drugged and her limbs felt leaden. She desperately wanted to push Carole away, to make her take her hand off her breast... to leave her alone!

"Please Carole... " she finally managed to mumble, "please don't... " Carole's immediate response was to move closer to her and to continue her rhythmic fondling of her breast.

"It's all right Sandra," she cooed, "let's just enjoy ourselves. Let's forget about those guys out there... they're too rough and crude for us. Even Armando! After all you've been through, you need someone gentle and kind...

Her words were hypnotic, and Sandra found herself accepting them, her inner brain processing them carefully. She didn't actually mind the younger girl caressing her breast, it was only that it was wrong! And what she was insinuating was even more wrong, even though the suggestion of gentleness and kindness was appealing. Carole was right; she had been through a lot lately, a lot of humiliation and brutality and force; she deserved a little tenderness.

She was now vaguely aware of Carole's other hand creeping down the plane of her naked body, inching toward the moist secret place up between her legs, leaving little tingles of desire along her flesh as it traced slowly downward.

"You're so soft and warm... " Carole murmured as her fingertips came into delicious contact with the first straying curls of the brunette's pussy hair.

Oh God, I can't let this happen! Sandra thought, her deceiving body fighting against he puritanical objections. It was bad enough that she had succumbed in the ways that she did to what Armando and Ray and Senator Long had made her do. But this was different; it was perverse. Everything in her rebelled at the thought of giving in to this forbidden act; she had to draw the line somewhere!

"Please Carole, don't! It's wrong... we can't!" she insisted, trying to pull herself to a sitting position and at the same time reaching out to ward off the other woman and give emphasis to her words.

Then she got another shock.

Carole was stark naked tool Sandra recoiled as her hands came into searing contact with the blonde's velvety naked flesh, and her fingers brushed lightly against one full, warm breast! Now that her eyes were adjusting to the dim light, she could see Carole's slender form and realize that her sense of touch hadn't been lying.

Sandra never felt so confused in her life. Oh dear God, how had this happened? And what was Carole thinking of? Did she seriously plan to...

She stiffened again, because at that precise moment, the strange young blonde's fingers made excruciating contact with the tender outer flesh of her vagina. The other woman was actually touching her there, between her legs! "Oh God Carole, no... please don't... " she begged again, trying to squirm away, but somehow unable to. Oh dear heaven, this was utterly wrong... this was going completely beyond the limits...

"It's all right, really it is, Sandra," Carole assured her as her fingers began to slip between the flesh hair-lined folds and to swirl around in the wet inner moistness. "It's no worse than what you did when you let Ray Bukowski kiss you there, or when you sucked the Senator's cock when you didn't want to. Letting me make you happy isn't wrong... you deserve it after all you've been through... " The younger woman's voice was so soft and persuasive that Sandra found herself lying back, trying to make sense of the tumult which was going on in her brain. It was wrong, there was no getting away from that, just as those other times had been wrong, but she did find Carole's touch relaxing... did find it soothing to have her hands caressing her body, cuddling her breasts and caressing her warmly pulsing vagina. She even found it pleasurable, as much as the thought and realization disturbed her. What was coming over her? Less than two weeks ago, she was sure that she was done with sex forever; her terrible experience with Chad had turned her against it and she was sure that she'd find complete satisfaction in politics and her career. Then she had been ashamedly turned on by the sight of Carole sucking Armando's penis, and had wantonly brought herself to climax. Later, she had become totally aroused by her campaign manager's love-making even though he had forced her to submit. Then, even more horrifying, she had yielded to Ray Bukowski's coarsely licking tongue as it had slavered over her vagina to the subsequent orgy where she had been fucked by at least six men, and only days ago, she actually enjoyed, after her initial revulsion had passed, performing oral love on Senator Long.

What kind of a degenerate had she become?

It couldn't be natural to enjoy all those acts, given the situation which had precipitated each and every one of them, no more than it could be natural to lie here, the way she was, and let Carole embrace her and caress her wetly quivering vagina. And yet, whatever the reason, or whether it was right or not, she was enjoying it; appreciating the softness of another woman's caresses, feeling ready to trust her vulnerability to this understanding younger girl.

"Oh Sandra, your cunt feels so soft and satiny... I'm dying to kiss it... to taste it with my mouth... " Oh please no! Sandra's brain screamed as she lay there, paralyzed with shock, shaken rudely out of her half-serious' reverie. It was one thing to allow the lascivious blonde to fondle her vagina; it was another thing entirely to let her go a step further and actually...

Even now, Carole was moving down on the sofa, pulling aside the thin blanket which provided scanty covering for the distraught brunette, and planting her soft hands on her trembling thighs. Oh dear God, she had to stop this... it was too much to bear...

Sandra felt the other woman's breath on her unprotected furrow as Carole gently spread her thighs, and then seconds later, she felt the first stab of a wet tongue on her helpless vagina.

"Oooohhhhhhh," she moaned deep in her throat and -- of their own accord -- her hips rose to meet that darting tongue which even now was teasing at her vibrating clitoris.

Oh God! Oh God! It was wrong, evil, perverse! She couldn't let another woman do this to her... it was forbidden by all precepts which she lived by! She had to stop it now, before...

It was that "before" which pulled her up short. Before what? She didn't dare admit to herself what she meant, but she knew. She was afraid, yes, afraid that she was going to succumb to the insidious pleasure of Carole's agile tongue on her moistly tingling vagina! Yes, that was the awful truth. The fact that she was intrinsically repelled by the unnatural act was deterrent enough, but the main thing was -- and she didn't want to face this -- that she was desperately fearful that she would enjoy it! She couldn't accept this truth about herself, or admit this unwanted facet of her personality. The dreadful events of the past week or so had slowly and subtly changed her; her body was different, was adjusting to other needs and desires and she no longer exercised the iron control over it that she wanted. She had to stop this oral caressing now... she had to...

But it was too late! Oh God, it was far too late... now she didn't want to! Yes, yes, she was beginning to enjoy the incredible sensation of Carole's warm panting tongue as it slithered in and out of her churning pussy, dipping and probing as it fucked in and out of her satiny inner folds, prodding at the burgeoning bud of her clitoris, which was already beginning to be engorged with excitement, titillating all of the sensitive nerve endings in the tight little opening of her cunt. Oh dear Lord in heaven, it was terrible to be so debauched that she was succumbing to the advances of another woman, but she couldn't help herself. Her body craved this love, this gentleness. It wasn't a feeling of subjugation such as a woman naturally felt when she submitted to a man; it was more a coming together of equals; there was no violence or fear of it, just the wonderfully feathery touch of that knowledgeable tongue and mouth on her softly yielding vagina.

"Mmmmmmmmnnnn... aaahhhhhh... " she couldn't help sighing as the golden head of the teen-aged blonde burrowed deeper between her widespread thighs and she gave herself over completely to the thrills of pleasure which were rippling through her. She could imagine the lovely younger woman's face rimmed by her vagina and wished that she could see her tongue darting in and out of the wet pink flesh. Carole's hands were pressuring her thighs firmly, and Sandra could feel the girls heated breath on her quivering cuntal split. She had no idea that it would be like this -- not that she'd given it much thought before -- but she couldn't have dreamed that it would be so gentle and yet so exciting, so tender and yet so arousing. She felt a surge of gratitude toward the naked young woman, and was aware of an urge to repay her for the incredible pleasure she was giving her, for opening the door to an unknown paradise to her. She felt liberated in every sense of the word -- gone were her oppressive doubts and fears, and she was aware that her body felt a new freedom too. A freedom from fear of masculine violence -- a trusting kind of relaxation which she knew was only possible with another woman. She should do something in return... should really repay in kind for the exquisite pleasure she was getting. But should she? More to the point, could she? And she knew the answer. A transformation had come over her in the last few minutes, a kind of sudden maturity which made her see things in a different perspective. Share and share alike... just as Carole had persuaded her that she deserved this satisfaction after all she had been through, she now realized that the lovely blonde deserved to be treated in kind!

A strange sensation shuddered through her, a sort of exhilaration mingled with fear as she slowly and carefully began to move her pleasure-ridden body around, to try and pay back some of what she was so gratefully taking now. At the same time she didn't want to lose a precious second of Carole's delightful tongue as it glided in and out of the hot, churning depths of her pussy. Carole, however, seemed to realize her intent and helped her the best she could, so that it was only seconds later when Sandra found herself staring up at the glistening pink furrow of the teen-aged blonde's vagina as the girl knelt over her -- knees on both sides of her head.

She stared up at the forbidden fruit in rapt fascination, taking in all the beauty of the hair-lined outer lips, surmounted by downy golden tendrils. She could just catch a glimpse of the tiny clitoris, almost hidden by a tangle of golden thatch, and beneath it, surrounded by petal-edged inner folds of flesh, the moistly pulsating orifice of her sweet little cunt.

She was drawn to the lusciously inviting flesh like a magnet and, as she inhaled the honey scented fragrance of the blonde's excitedly quivering pussy, it was like an aphrodisiac to her. Unhesitatingly she flicked out her tongue and tasted the first nectar-like moisture of the younger woman's eagerly proffered vagina. She began to move her tongue tentatively around the velvet-soft folds, dipping the tip into the mysterious recesses and secret crannies, feeling Carole's hips begin to grind rhythmically down against her face as arrows of pleasure winged through her. It was thrilling, the realization that already she was beginning to excite the lovely blonde and she set to her task with a will, determined to give the uninhibited teen-ager just as much pleasure as she was giving her, with strongly caressing darts of her expert tongue. She couldn't help moaning softly into the redolent depths of the blonde's warmly moistened pussy as her own body shuddered with new and thrilling sensations and before long it seemed as if their two bodies were united in giving and receiving as much satisfaction as they could. Her own shapely thighs tightened around Carole's golden halo of hair at the same time as she felt the teen-ager's legs increase their grip at the sides of her face, trapping her willingly in the steamy morass of churning cuntal flesh.

Her tongue seemed to have a mind and will of its own as it probed and thrusted and prodded greedily, swirling around Carole's blood- engorged clitoris, jabbing teasingly at the eagerly clasping vaginal orifice, slavering wetly over the whole writhing plane of her pussy. She was completely immersed in the swamp of the other woman's essential femininity, deriving as much happiness from giving as receiving. She was no longer bothered with thoughts of the right or wrong of what she was doing... it felt right and good, and that was all that mattered. Their two bodies rocked and twisted together, pretzeled into an all-woman sixty-nine, both oblivious to everything but the pleasure and excitement derived from licking each other's vagina.

Sandra was half-aware that she heard the door open, but she didn't pay any attention to it... she had forgotten all about the union men outside in the other room. Her euphoric bliss was rudely shattered seconds later, when she heard Armando's voice ring out, making her blood run cold: "Hey you guys! Here's the show I promised you! Come and get a load of this!"

She stopped her frenzied sucking and licking of Carole's inviting cunt as she heard the whoops and shrieks of lascivious glee which followed her campaign manager's invitation, and knew from the sounds, that all the longshoremen were crowding into the little lounge.

"For crying out loud! They're eating each other's cunt!" someone gasped, his amazement and excitement obvious in his voice.

"Hey, Armando!" -- this was Ginger Dowling -- "you sure know how to put on a good show! Look at 'em go!"

Bitter disillusionment flooded through the distraught brunette and her first impulse was to stop what she was doing, to pull her head away from the steaming depths of Carole's mouth-watering vagina. The younger woman, however, if she heard the melee in the room -- and there was no way she could not -- seem to be affected by it, and continued her frantic tonguing, and began to thrust her own tingling pussy against Sandra's motionless mouth. She didn't really want to, but it seemed she had no option but to start sucking and licking the teenager's avidly offered cleft again; it was almost instinctive by this time.

But this time, her brain was active and reeling with the implications of what she had heard. She didn't want to believe it, but it was obvious to her now that this, this warm and as she thought spontaneous love-making between her and Carole, this was what Armando had up his sleeve... this was the ultimate trick by which he hoped to force her to resign from the race. Carole was involved, obviously, and on Armando's side, naturally; it had all been set up, and Valdez had seemingly given the unionists a hint of what was to happen. She had been duped again! Her actions were by now mechanical; her reactions to Carole's ceaselessly working tongue were real and unfeigned. But she was crushed by disillusion and sick at how her campaign manager had once again trapped her into a compromising position.

Armando himself was delighted with what was going on. Good girl, Carole! he thought patronizingly, as he stared down at the two nakedly entwined bodies, his eyes first darting to where Sandra's dark glossy head was buried between the golden columns of Carole's slender thighs, and where he could just catch a glimpse of her tongue as it fucked in and out of the wet pinkness beneath the yellow pubic curls; then his gaze shifted lasciviously to where the teenager was laboring feverishly in the depths of Sandra's black-haired pussy mound, her angelic face bathed and gleaming from excited secretions of the older woman's churning cunt.

"Them two broads sure love each other's pussy!" Bud Benton rasped, his beefy face even redder than ever, his ham-fists kneading his thighs excitedly. He and Ginger were edging as close as they dared to the lewd scene on the sofa, and they felt their own arousal egged on by the coarsely muttered comments of the other longshoremen behind them.

"Man, look how they're squeezing each other's tits!" someone remarked and was greeted with nods of agreement.

"Hell, I sure wouldn't mind trading places with one of them!" someone else yelled longingly.

Dowling laughed, but never took his bulging blue eyes from the incredible tangle of entwined bodies in front of him.

"Trade, hell! What's the matter with the two of them?"

The obscene remarks continued to explode around her, but Sandra found herself caring less and less. Anger was getting the upper hand, and she had decided on one thing. No matter what, Armando wasn't going to force her to resign. He had done his evil best, had tortured and humiliated her in every way possible, but she wasn't going to give in. She was in control of herself now, mistress of her own ship, and no one, especially not a wheeler-dealer like Valdez, was going to dictate to her. Her body as much as her mind was her own... and she was going to call the shots from now on!

Her new resolve seemed to act as a solvent for her doubts and feelings of disappointment, and she felt them melt away as resolution took over. Besides, she couldn't really think about it right now, or even worry about the excited, gaping knot of men that she knew was gathered around the sofa, because her body, according to her dictate, was taking over and she was being overwhelmed by the ripples of sensuous pleasure cavorting along her spine. Oh God, Carole's tongue felt so good, so exciting, so tingling in her pussy... she hoped her own tonguing was doing as much for her golden-haired companion. She could hear the sibilant sucking and slavering sound of her tongue and Carole's, as they licked and kissed in unison, both edging toward a mutual fulfillment. It no longer seemed strange or wrong that she was making love with a woman with a lot of men looking on or that she was soon to climax from a female's tongue sliding in and out of her hungrily grasping pussy... it even felt right.

A crescendo seemed to be building up inside her, making her body move with frenetic jerks and spasms, and her tongue race wetly over Carole's pulsating vagina. She could feel similar vibrations in the younger woman's perspiration- bathed body, and then she felt as if she had been whipped by some centrifugal force and she was spinning out of all control. She was caught up in an incredible vortex which made her pump her pelvis crazily against Carole's wildly sucking mouth, and which made her lose her moans of ecstasy in the blonde's greedily clamping vagina.

"For Chrissakes! They're going to cum! They're cumming together!" someone gasped in disbelief, and then everything faded into a kind of neutrality, as she felt the exquisite release of her inner juices as they showered down in abandon on Carole's half-hidden face. At the same time, she was bathed in the sweet secretions of the teenager's orgasmic flow, and she thought she had never tasted or felt anything so refreshing and quenching as that feminine gush. Her body was shuddering and spasming with almost overpowering excitement, and her head was incredibly light and drifting pleasantly, and still she continued her kissing and mouthing, drawing each last drop of honeyed fluid from Carole's tingling, wet cunt. Their two graceful bodies clamped together and jerked and thrashed as one, united in their mutual orgasm, bonded by the sex and all the secrets which they shared, not caring that they provided a lurid spectacle for the cluster of aroused, impassioned men who gaped at them with lust-rimmed eyes. They were true sisters for this one moment in time, both feeling that what they had given and received was unlike, and consequently superior to anything they could ever get from a mere male.

* * *

Now that it was over, Sandra didn't want to open her eyes and face the reality that awaited her. It had been wonderful while it lasted, but now she had to face up, not only to the inquisitive group of union men around her, but also to the fact that she had made love with another woman, and that she had enjoyed it. She no longer had an excuse of too much to drink, or a pretense of being in love, or any real coercion. She had merely been persuaded by Carole's soft soothing voice and by the tantalizing touch of her hand on her body. She knew that her body, as much as her mind, had gone through changes in the last two weeks but she'd never have believed that those changes would extend to her enjoying a woman's lovemaking. To say nothing of she herself also participating. Because she didn't play just a passive role; she had actively contributed, and there was no excuse she could come up with that would cover that.

Of course, realizing that it had all been part of Armando's vile plan to force her to quit the race had helped, and she was glad for that, if nothing else, pleased that she had overcome her scruples and had been able to thwart him. But was that compensation enough for what she had done... for the irrevocable step she had taken? She had stepped beyond the bounds of what was decent, and really, there was no going back.

Armando knew that his plans had been fouled up. No one had been as surprised as he was when he had flung open the door and presented his "show" to the "boys." He had been sure that he'd find Sandra lying there, a victim of Carole's threats and helpless to ward off her insinuating tongue. Instead, he had found the two women wrapped around each other in a lewd sixty-nine, and it was obvious that the aroused brunette was enjoying it just as much as the less inhibited Carole. He had gotten as excited as the rest as he watched, and now, he was having no trouble forgetting for the moment his foiled plans. All he could think of was doing something about the aching bulge that signified his growing erection.

He couldn't take his eyes off Carole, who was still lying there inert, his shapely legs slightly spread, to reveal the glistening pink slit of her vagina, still obviously tingling from Sandra's tongue which had only minutes before been snaking and dancing around in its tender folds. She looked like a sleeping angel as she lay there, the brownish points of her nipples a slight contrast against the golden of her full breasts, and hardly aware of what he was doing, he moved over closer to her.

"It's me, honey... " he hissed, staring down at her. She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.

"Oh Carole," he rasped again, "Oh God, I'm just dying to fuck you!"

Sandra jerked into full consciousness at Armando's crudely uttered words, and pulled herself to a sitting position, just in time to see him begin to tear off his clothes hurriedly. She couldn't help gasping in astonishment as she caught sight of his lustfully distended penis, standing up erectly from the dark forest of his pubic hair, the head burgeoning with mounting desire.

"Open your legs wide, sweetie... I'm coming right in!" he leered as without preamble he bent down and clamped his hands against Carole's smoothly tanned hips. The waiting blonde didn't seem to object to his vulgar words, and Sandra watched dumbfounded as the younger woman splayed her thighs invitingly, revealing the pulsating pink furrow of her receptive vagina -- the delicate flesh that she herself had been sucking and kissing and licking only minutes earlier!

The amazed brunette, now fully awake and gaping avidly, watched as Carole reached down and clasped Armando's full, throbbing erection in her hand and immediately began to draw it greedily to the burning spot between her legs.

"Mmmmmmmmm, Armando... it's so big and hard... " she murmured, her eyes widening as she took in appreciatively its still swelling proportions.

There was almost utter silence in the small room. The excited cluster of men seemed to be on tenterhooks, as they waited, with Sandra, for what was going to happen.

Only Ginger Dowling, unable to contain himself, broke the almost eerie quietness.

"Jeez, he's gonna fuck her now... right after that sixty-nine with the other broad!"

Moments later, there was an excited moan of pleasure as Carole squirmed in delight from the sensation of Armando's eager penis as it thrust up into her hungrily accepting pussy.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh... 'yesssssss... " the aroused young blonde gasped, her head thrown back, her legs reaching up to lock behind Armando's muscular back, her arms already entwined around his neck.

Sandra continued to watch, her head spinning, her thoughts in confusion. It was as if she had descended into some king of crazy netherworld, where everything she had ever accepted or believed in was reversed, and what she had considered wrong or forbidden was calmly and happily accepted. She herself was acting as if she were a denizen of that spurious civilization; she had just engaged in wild, abandoned lovemaking with a lascivious young blonde, and now she was watching that younger woman being fucked -- yes, that was the only word for it -- fucked by her own campaign manager, who had led Sandra herself into such incredible turmoil. The strangest thing of all was that she wasn't as repelled by the whole scene as she ought to have been. She should, by rights, be absolutely disgusted by the realization that she was part of a leering, crude bunch of men who were staring in undisguised fascination as Armando thrust his blood-laden cock hard up between Carole's widespread legs. She, herself, was just as bad as the gawking, gasping union members, as they all watched the impassioned blonde grind her rounded buttocks up off the couch and then swing her hips up rhythmically as Valdez's rock-hard penis drove up relentlessly into the depths of her convulsively clutching cunt.

Everything to do with the campaign and the election was completely forgotten, both by Armando, whose self-seeking plans had been rudely upset, and by Sandra, whose life had been geared toward that one event, and who had made so many personal sacrifices to obtain her life's ambition. It was all forgotten now as Armando fucked up into the hot recesses of Carole's wetly clasping vagina, and Sandra watched in lewd rapture, her eyes never leaving the obliviously screwing couple in front of her.

She was so engrossed that she jerked back suddenly as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey honey, how's about you and me making a little whoopee 'stead of jus' watchin'?"

It was Bud Benton, and she shrank from the look of undisguised drunken lust on his face. He seemed rougher and cruder to her than ever, and she found that no words would come to voice her complete objection to what he had suggested. But her face conveyed her message.

"Don't give me that bullshit!" he snarled venomously, pushing her roughly onto the floor. "It don't cut no ice with me. Remember, we all seen you sucking that blonde's cunt like crazy, same time as she was licking and tonguing your pussy!"

"It wasn't... please... " she stammered helplessly, fear welling up inside her, aware of the attitude of her unsympathetic audience.

Benton's only response was to start stripping off his clothes, while he held her immobilized with a baleful stare. It was all the restraint she needed; she couldn't have moved if she had been on fire.

But she couldn't help gasping in horror as she caught sight of the thick, pulsing protuberance of his lust-hardened penis. Oh God, it was so thick, so strong looking...

"You like that, doll, huh?" he snickered, fondling his twitching shaft lovingly. "You ready for me to stick it all the way up in your tight little cunt, huh?"

A quiver of panic shot through Sandra as she lay there, unable to tear her gaze away from the bulky figure of the longshoreman who was settling himself between her shaking legs. Oh dear God, he'd kill her... he'd split her in two with that monstrous rod... it was just too big!

"Hey Bud, make her beg for it! She oughta be grateful for a real cock, after only that broad's tongue up her pussy!"

Snickers of agreement followed this anonymous suggestion, and Benton's beefy face split into a lascivious grin.

"That's right, sweetie! I'm doin' ya a real favor. Ya oughta show me a little appreciation!"

Sandra lay there dumbly, unable to suppress a contorted look of pain as she felt the rubbery head of his thick rigid penis as it nudged against the tingling flesh of her outer vagina.

"Whassamatter? You think you're too good for a union guy?" he demanded, his face darkening with menace.

"No, it's just that... "

"Awright, then go ahead and show a little gratitude. Beg me to do it!"

Sandra shivered miserably, her brain numb and unfunctioning. A few scant feet away, she could hear the slapping passionate sounds of Armando and Carole making love, oblivious to everything and everybody but the animalistic rhythm of their bodies as they rocked and bucked together in unison. This time she had nothing or no one to blame for her desperate predicament but herself; she shouldn't be here, naked and at the mercy of these men, in the first place.

"Well, what are ya waitin' for? My cock feels like a sledgehammer and by Christ, if you don't do what I want soon... " There was no way out for her but compliance -- woman's eternal lot, she couldn't help thinking bitterly. If she refused, it was certain that he'd get even angrier, maybe even hit her with one of those huge, scarred fists...

"Ah... please... do it to me!" she finally managed to blurt in a small voice.

"Please do it to me," Benton mimicked cruelly in a squeaky voice, and then roared in his usual bellow: "Goddammit, you can do better than that, or are you afraid to use dirty words? Is that it?"

Dear God, what was she to say? She couldn't say "make love to me"... that wouldn't describe what was going to happen. Was there to be no end to her punishment?

"F-fuck... fuck me!" she finally whispered, her cheeks crimsoning as she said the unaccustomed word.

"Tell me what you want me to do with this rock-hard prick of mine!" he demanded violently.

She had to do it... the alternative was too unbearable to even think about. - "Put it inside... inside me!" she mumbled unhappily.

"IN MY CUNT!" he roared crudely. "Tell me to shove it in your cunt!"

He was an utter monster... he had to be, to torment... her like this.

"Shove it... shove your... your prick in my... my cunt!"

Oh God, what was she being forced to say? More vulgar whistles and stomps followed. "You guys all hear that?" Benton demanded triumphantly. "She told me to shove my cock into her cunt! I guess," he finished with a snicker, "I've got no choice but to do as the little lady says!"

Sandra lay there mutely, bathed in shame, as once again she felt the insistent pressure of his hard, blood-filled shaft against the resisting opening of her vagina. She was helpless; there was no point in resisting; that would anger him even more and expose her to a further barrage of insult, and maybe even actual injury. It was all her own fault, but that was no consolation. Maybe this was to be her punishment for enjoying the perverse pleasure she had derived from Carole's golden body. Perhaps she was being paid for -- Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as pain shot through her. It seemed to come from every part of her body, but in reality it was a combination of the vise-like grip of his hands on her thighs and the brutal shoving of his granite-like penis as it drove unerringly up into the faintly resisting channel of her defenseless vagina. Futilely, she tried to pull away, but she was caught as securely as if in a trap.

"Please don't... you're hurting me... " she gasped feebly, aware that her words would have no effect on the determined, impassioned union man.

"Man, you sure have a tight pussy! If I didn't know better," he sneered obscenely, "I'd think you're still a virgin!"

Outbursts of laughter greeted this remark, and Sandra felt a new anger rising inside her. What do you all know about it? she thought bitterly. I'm almost a virgin -- that first experience with Chad hardly counted and after that, there was only the time when she had succumbed completely to Armando... and to the brewers.

It was all Armando's fault. Armando! Who was right now fucking Carole like a wild man. Who was her campaign manager but who had betrayed her incredibly. Who had given her first experience of the pleasure of sex... who really was to blame for it all!

She felt a moment of relief when she realized that Benton had sunk his sturdy, pulsating penis to the hilt in her soft unprotected depths. But her respite was short lived because almost right away, he started to withdraw, and she could feel her resisting inner walls clinging to his blood-hard flesh as he pulled it out. Then, without warning, he plunged right in again, burying his hard, driving shaft in one single stroke in the deepness of her cringing body.

Benton began to fuck in and out with long, rhythmic thrusts, and she felt that her body was being plundered by his alien, unwanted presence. But there was nothing she could do; she was powerless to object in any way, and she could be nothing but a helpless victim of his superior physical strength. The gaping longshoremen were on his side completely, and Armando, even if he had not been totally abandoned to his wanton coupling with Carole, wouldn't be any help either; her miserable previous experiences had taught her that. No, she was alone, at the mercy of the ape-like longshoreman who was grinding mercilessly up between her painfully stretched legs, thrusting his long hard penis into the secret recesses of her wetly quivering pussy. And maybe she deserved this humiliation. Perhaps, as she had begun to think before, it was her punishment for allowing herself to be seduced by Carole, for enjoying the other woman's tongue on her vagina, for going so far herself as to return the pleasure and kiss and lick the blonde's enticing pussy. And yes, it had been enticing... secret and honeyed and she had enjoyed it, just like she had enjoyed Carole's expert tongue on her own vagina, dipping and sweeping and making her squirm with arousal.

"Oh God, Armando! Your fucking is driving me crazy! Your prick feels great ramming up into my cunt!"

Carole's fiercely gasped words burned themselves into Sandra's brain, adding fuel to the feelings which were seething inside her. She was thinking... couldn't stop thinking... about her lovemaking with the younger woman, at the same time as she was becoming more pleasurably aware of Bud's pile-driving penis as it pistoned up between her legs, and then the blonde's moans of pleasure and... it was all too much for her, and she couldn't help herself. It was wrong -- no! she didn't know whether it was right or wrong, and it didn't matter, because everything was beginning to happen to her at once.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh... mmmmnnnnn- nnnnnnn... " she was moaning, unable to hold back her sighs of pleasure, no more than she was able to hold back the tide of carnal awakening which was crashing through her, starting at the fiery, tingling place between her thighs, where Bud was rhythmically fucking his rock-hard cock, and which had spread up to flood her entire body, making every inch of her naked flesh twitch and jerk with growing, exhilarating passion. Her inner vaginal walls flowered open and began to clasp and nibble excitedly as his thickened shaft, and her hips began to move and roll in lewd rhythmic stride with his frenzied pounding.

"Go to it, Bud!" someone yelled from behind, "give her a fuck she'll never forget!"

But somehow, this time, the disgusting remarks didn't matter. The excited, aroused knot of men blurred in her sight and thoughts, and all she was aware of was the contagious current of their lust. She was completely impassioned now, heaving and twisting wildly beneath the burly, perspiring longshoreman, her own excitement fed as well by the increasing staccato of gasps and moans coming from Armando and Carole a few feet away.

Her lean, slender body snaked and danced in an ecstasy of passion, and she spontaneously reached up and pulled Benton down to press his hairy chest against her sensitive nipples. Her mouth sought his and she exulted in the pressure of his mouth against her lips. She accepted his wet, sliding tongue immediately and began to fence with it, making her own twist around in a frenzy of excitement. Oh God, this was unlike anything she had experienced before. Far better than the time with Armando... this crude, vulgar longshoreman was making her feel things she hadn't thought possible. She no longer minded his weather-beaten face, his ham-like fists, the rough strength of his jackhammering penis... she loved it all, because it was all she deserved for what she had done. She merited this kind of treatment; he had forced her to submit to him, and had made her say those obscene words, but it was all part of her punishment for enjoying those forbidden acts which made her squirm and writhe with pleasure.

"Yesssssss, Bud... oh yes, that's the way to fuck me!" she moaned, revelling at last in her complete subjugation to him, accepting her position of inferiority and slavishness. It was better this way, to accept, that is, because it was her destiny and there was no point in fighting it. "Jeez, Ginger, what are'ya doin'?"

She heard the astonished whisper at the same time as she felt the strong pressure of a hand on her shoulder. What was happening? she wondered irritatedly, unwillingly opening her eyes and tearing herself away from her masochistic thoughts. She found herself staring straight into the freckled, lined face of Dowling, the union's treasurer!

"What... why?" she began, unable to find the words to express her astonishment.

"Take it easy, sweetie," he whispered, "I'm jus' goin' to join in the fun!"

And then she saw that he was stark naked, with an unmistakable erection jutting from a tangle of red hair that sprouted between his tree-trunk like thighs!

Horror exploded inside her and her eyes widened with disbelief.

"I don't... but -- "

"Don't you worry none, honey" he hissed, "you jus' roll over. No reason why Bud should get all the goodies. I'm gonna fuck you too!" Before she had a chance to think, she found herself being moved. Bud's arms bear-hugged her, almost squeezing all breath out of her trembling frame, and seconds later, she found herself on top of him, with his pulsating penis still fucking rhythmically up into her pussy. At that moment, she wasn't feeling anything. She was struggling to beat her way out of a miasma of doubts and confusion, trying to figure out what was happening, what had brought about this bizarre new angle.

Then she was aware of hands kneading her buttocks, pulling the rounded spheres apart, stretching her anal crack almost beyond bearing. She tried to wriggle away, but of course it was no use; Bud's penis in front had her completely impaled and Ginger's work-roughened hands were firmly pummeling her tender ass-cheeks.

Ginger was quivering with excitement as he stared down at the sweat-lined crevice of her ass and at the tiny puckered circle of her anus. He could hardly believe that he was doing this -- that he was stroking her buttocks at the same time as Benton, his best buddy, was fucking her like crazy. And now, he was reaching out with his middle finger and probing the tightly resisting orifice of her rectum. A shiver of obscene pleasure coursed through him as he jabbed at the defenseless orifice, and then without waiting any longer, he increased the pressure and forced the tip into the rubbery sphincter, twisting it unmercifully until it was imbedded to the first knuckle.

"AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH...!" Sandra yelped in sudden pain as she felt a whiplash of agony jerk along her spine. Oh God, she couldn't stand it! She was being torn in two by his perverse intrusion; she just couldn't bear it!

Ginger, oblivious to her shriek of torture, continued to screw his punishing finger into her futilely resisting back passage, fascinated by the way her cruelly stretched anal aperture tightened like a rubber band around his invading finger. He reamed it around inside her squirming rectum, amazed by its tightness and its spongy heat, his excitement growing as the pressure in his sperm-swollen balls mounted.

"Please don't... you're hurting me!" Sandra whimpered pitifully, tears cascading down her pale face, her previous pleasure forgotten in the wake of this new degradation. Oh God, would they never leave her alone? Would they never stop tormenting her? If only that excruciating pain back there would stop!

She got her wish moments later as Dowling withdrew his finger and she almost sobbed aloud her relief. But it was short-lived, and an even more deadening fear took its place. It didn't seem possible, but she could now feel the burgeoning head of his penis nudging between the sorely stretched globes of her ass! It rubbed agonizingly up and down her trembling anal split, stopping to push forcefully against her tiny rectal opening. New panic washed through her and she had to strangle cries of numbing fear. Oh dear God, that couldn't be what he meant! He didn't mean to do that terrible, evil thing to her; it just wasn't possible!

But the insidious, insistent nudging of Dowling's granite-hard shaft at her trembling anus brought home to her with sickening realization that her silent pleas were useless.

As the pressure behind increased, she closed her eyes and bit her lip, bracing herself for the pain she knew would come, no longer concerned with Benton beneath her, or the still rhythmic thrusts of his tireless penis.

Dowling tightened his fingers in the snowy white flesh of her buttocks and stared down at the sight of the purplish head of his shaft pushing against the small wrinkled circle of her sphincter. It looked so goddamn small... he wondered if he would be able to penetrate it. But, he thought with a cruel grin, he'd give it a damn good try!

The mesmerized onlookers were nudging each other excitedly.

"Is he going to --?" someone whispered hoarsely.

"Sure he is!" was the loud, unrestrained answer. "Dowling's going to fuck the little bitch in the asshole!"

He had been oblivious to everything else, but the piercing words raked into Armando's consciousness and he twisted his head around and was just in time to see Ginger Dowling put all his strength behind the convulsive thrust of his hips as he tried to shove his lust-swollen cock into Sandra's rectum! Armando could hardly believe it. He had been aware that Benton was fucking her, and that she had begun to respond. He had heard her moans and sighs of pleasure and then he had forgotten about her in the overwhelming sensations of his own lascivious fucking of Carole. Now he was excruciatingly aware of the brunette as he realized that Ginger was going to take her anally while Benton was fucking her cunt from below!

"NNNOOOOOOOOOO! OH GOD! OH GOD!" Sandra sobbed wildly, as she flailed her tortured buttocks in a desperate attempt to escape Dowling's frenzied butting against her resisting anus. He was killing her, there was no doubt about that!

"Her asshole's too small! He can't get his cock in!" one of the longshoremen gasped, as the excited group of watchers moved even closer to the trio on the floor.

Ginger, by this time, was maddened with frustration and lust, and was determined to get his way. He arched his back, and jerked back his hips savagely. His fingers became like talons in Sandra's sorely bruised buttocks, and his eyes bulged in mingled rage and passion as he prepared to charge. Finally, with a bestial grunt, he lunged forward, thrusting with all his considerable might, forcing the palpitating head of his steel-like rod into the tightly clinging opening of her ass.

"AAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" the demented brunette wailed, her body contorted with pain, her face masked with agony as the determined red-haired longshoreman managed to insert the tip of his brutal cock into her lacerated rectum.

"Aaaaagggggggggghhhhh... please don't... " she gasped again as he relentlessly forced another thick inch of his sturdy shaft into her desperately resisting depths.

"... uuuugggggggghhhhhhh... aaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhh!! " Another agonizing, pain-wracked inch. Sandra was helpless against his onslaught; she couldn't even cry any more. She wished she would lose consciousness; anything to spare her the excruciating pain. But Ginger seemed to be completely unaware -- or uncaring -- of the agony he was putting her through, and hardly breathed until he had buried his invading penis to the hilt in her forever stretched rectal passage. He leaned against her, his body heaving from the exertion, feeling the tight, hot inner walls clamping against his shaft. Then he began the long arduous journey out, and he ignored her new moans of pain as he roughly pulled his pulsating cock out of her sorely quivering anus. When just the bulbous head was still enclosed, he rammed forward again, finding his movements slightly easier this time, sending his rock-like rod home in one long, searing stroke. "Aaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaggggg- ggghhhhh!" Sandra whimpered, feeling that she had fallen to the lowest depths of degradation. Thankfully, her body was beginning to become numb, and she didn't have the overpowering pain to worry about. But her brain was lacerated beyond endurance and she was sure she'd never be the same again. Even if her torture-racked body recovered from the physical abuse of being taken by two men at once, she didn't think he mind would. She could feel that Ginger was beginning to thrust into her backside with even, rhythmic strokes, and that he was timing his movements so that when he drove his huge sodomizing penis up into her abused rectum, it coincided with Bud's frenzied fucking of her wetly quivering vagina below. She could feel the two cocks through the thin dividing membrane, and they both fucked in, swept out, of her in unison, hesitating for a brief, respite giving moment, before pistoning up into her twin passages as one.

Oh Dear God, she knew she had been wicked, that she had indulged in and enjoyed acts which were forbidden. But surely what she had done wasn't had enough to warrant this terrible punishment of being sandwiched between two rough, crude longshoremen who had made her suffer all kinds of indignities? Had she really been that bad, that wicked?

She didn't know if she had or not, but she had been forced into doing all the things she did. Men! First Chad and later Armando, had taken advantage of her naivete and innocence and had used her in a cruel way, subjugating her completely and in Armando's case, making her submit to further perverse acts with other men. And then worst of all, she had succumbed herself to Carole's softness and gentleness, and had reciprocated in full the pleasure and excitement she had gotten from the sensuous blond. Yes, she had been depraved... had debauched herself in every way possible -- who was she to draw the line now? Was this dual fucking by two men she hardly knew any worse than letting Ray Bukowski suck and kiss her vagina, or any more evil than the way she had enjoyed performing oral love on Senator Long? And it certainly couldn't be worse, bad as it was to be taken at the same time by two men, than indulging in mutual cunnilingus with Carole. This debasing culmination to a string of wanton acts was just and fitting punishment for her. It was her nature to be used; she was too malleable gullible, and she deserved what she got.

Her thoughts raced on, unaware of the new changes that were happening in her body. No longer numb, familiar sensations were creeping through it, until they burst like a meteor throughout her tensed frame, splashing with wild abandon all over her. Her mind had finally accepted her utter subjugation, no longer wanted to put up even a token fight, and her body acquiesced in the battle. It was over; brute force had won and masochistic submission gave way to overwhelming pleasure.

Her body shuddered convulsively between the two heaving male forms and she suddenly began to move in rhythm with the longshoremen, twisting her buttocks back to receive Dowling's hotly throbbing shaft in her anal passage and then jerking forward on Benton's thick rigid penis. She enjoyed the sensation now of the two relentless cocks plunging up into her two passages; she enjoyed the animalistic, almost brutal fucking of the two union men in a way that she had never dreamed possible. She was being used as a receptacle for their joint pleasure, and she loved it!

"Mmmmmmmmmnnnnnn... yessss... " she moaned as her body twisted and flailed in unfettered abandon, and the knowledge that other men were watching in lascivious excitement only added to her depraved pleasure, as did the realization that only a few feet away from her, her campaign manager was fucking Carole half to death.

Armando found that he was excited almost beyond bearing by the sight and sound of Sandra enjoying her obscene double fucking. She was completely transformed, as different as could be from the staid, sober political candidate. She was now a moaning, writhing expanse of pleasure, given over completely to the sensations caused by the two pile-driving pricks pounding into her.

It all added up to an uncontrollable pleasure and Armando knew that he couldn't last any longer. Carole was whirling like a dervish beneath him, and the force of her inner vaginal walls were almost yanking his cock off... he had to find release soon!

"Oh Christ! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" he gasped as he felt a tremendous eruption in his balls and his spasming penis jerked and twitched as the first spurt of seething sperm gushed into the abyss of Carole's greedily receptive pussy. He felt as if he were drifting further and further away, aware only of his own cataclysmic climax and the sensuous sounds of the impassioned brunette as she writhed in complete abandonment.

Sandra heard Armando's orgasmic moans, and was aware of Carole's whimpering as the young girl thrashed about in release as well.

But then those sounds faded as she found herself concentrating totally on the tension that was building up in her own body. She was thrashing wildly between the two men, exulting in the crude sandwich she was forming, enjoying the sensation of their two cocks fucking her at the same time, plunging as one up into her erotically pulsating pussy and rectum.

Arrows of pleasure shafted her everywhere and she felt that everything was slipping out of her control.

"Ohhhhhhh yessssss... " she hissed as her body suddenly stiffened like a ramrod. Then the room began to spin and seconds later, she went almost insane, pounding her naked ass-cheeks back crazily against Ginger's frenziedly driving cock and then grinding her hot, grasping pussy down against Benton's pistoning shaft fucking into her from below.

"AAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH... I'M CUMMING!" she wailed, as her entire insides seemed to explode and she felt the release of her climactic juices as they rushed down to shower over Benton's jerking, plunging penis.

"Man, she's cumming from the double fucking!" someone rasped excitedly, as she moved around convulsively, her arms tight around Benton, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. Oh, God, it was incredible, this cumming from being fucked by two men at the same time. It was wrong, depraved, even, but she loved it! There was nothing like it, and there was nothing like these brutal, unfeeling longshoremen, with their muscular, steel-hard bodies and their strong hands and best of all, their tireless, bruising cocks!

"I'm cumming too!" Benton moaned, and then she felt the scalding jet of his sperm as it shot up into her hungrily gulping pussy. She could feel Dowling spasm behind her and realized that they were both climaxing at the same time, shooting their boiling white semen far up into the inner reaches of her body. She could almost feel their two liquid offerings mingling together inside her body, and she could think of no better feeling or sensation to express her feelings about the unique dual fucking she was experiencing, or the way it made her feel to realize that she was taken by two men at once and that they had forced her into that position and that they were using her for their own excitement and passion. And they were right, because she was a mere woman, there to do their bidding and to please them in whatever way she could.

She could feel the last drops of their thick foaming semen trickling from their deflating cocks, and as they began to slide out of her wet, tingling twin passages, she drifted into a blissful doze, thinking that she was truly fulfilled at last and that she had found her place in the scheme of things.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was all over.

Sandra could scarcely breathe for excitement. There was a small select crowd of her supporters crushed into her apartment where she had gone to await the results of the election. Ginger and Bud were there, as was Ray Bukowski. Carole was also present, but she was looking a little out of things. Oh well, Sandra thought maternally, when the party gets going, she'll be all right!

There was going to be a victory party because Sandra had won! She had been elected Alderman, winning by a surprisingly healthy majority over the incumbent, Mark Blake. The other contender, Jack Wright, hadn't really been in the running.

She could hardly believe it was true, even now. The last few days before the election had really been hectic. Because not only had she her campaign engagements to fulfill, but she also had to come to terms with her realizations about herself that she had discovered that evening with the longshoremen. She had to face that there were weaknesses in her character and that she had let herself be used in the past. She felt that she had grown immeasurably in the last few weeks and that she was capable of a more perceptive judgment of people. But she also knew that she felt a need to be dominated in her sexual life -- she had attracted that kind of man all along as if she were being punished almost at the same time as she was enjoying making love.

Well, she wouldn't think about that right now; there'd b e plenty of time later!

Armando wasn't there.

She just couldn't believe it when she found out the extent of her ex-campaign manager's machinations. Not only had he been secretly plotting to make her quit the campaign and thereby ensure that the incumbent would be re-elected, but he was also involved in chicanery regarding Jay Ryan, one of the contenders for another seat on the council. Sandra was astonished when she discovered, partly with Carole's help and partly from Armando's confessing to it, that he had duped several different voter representatives into giving Ryan their support. Most shattering of all probably was the way he had persuaded Fletcher Washington, who should have known that Ryan was a real redneck on matters concerning the race question. Senator Long had been at the back of it, promising Armando a seat on the city council, as well as help in getting one of Armando's friends a judgeship, in return for his assistance in making sure that Ryan and Blake got elected. Well, there had been a real surprise there, because Ryan wasn't elected; the old, two-time incumbent was brought home again.

Sandra was astonished at all these revelations, but it made her doubly determined to do her part to iron out the crookedness in City Hall. She was only one person, she knew, but she'd do her darnedest!

And after that? Well... she'd go for Senator Long's seat!

"Alderman Halston! Alderman Halston! Let's have a speech!" Everyone was calling for her and she found herself hoisted up onto the coffee table.

Through her tears of joy, she looked around at her friends. Apart from some of her campaign workers, they were mostly her new friends from the unions. Bud and Ginger were grinning widely up at her and she could see what was on their minds. They had brought along the president of the Longshoremen's Union, whom she hadn't met before. "Bull" Robbins was everything his name implied, and Sandra couldn't help dropping her gaze to the noticeable swelling between his legs, and wondering if his nickname extended to that part of him too.

"... and I will put the people first. And by the people I don't mean the bureaucrats, or the pencil pushers. I mean the workingmen" -- here her speech was interrupted by loud cheers -- "Yes, as long as I am on the city council, the workingmen can count on me, Sandra Halston, for everything that they need!"

THE END
Campaign Promise ....(95k)    by Paul Brinkley




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