"It looks like Arlene will be a very busy sex machine this next week," he said.
Arlene had been quietly listening to the entire conversation. She smiled at Carlson, knowing he had been dying to get into her pants for months, but she had resisted his every overture. Sex meant one thing to Arlene-money. And Carlson St. John was not powerful enough in the party yet to have money.
"Yes, darling," she responded, "and a very rich girl the week after, no?"
INTRODUCTION by Leonard A. Lowag, Ph.D.
Sinnocent Abroad is a revealing, poignant story, stark in content and exposing reality as it exists in all its ugly exactitude. It is not a pretty picture, expose seldom is; but the story is founded on tangible vice and viciousness as it prevails today. Most of the characters depicted fall into the category of the psychopathic personality-those individuals whose behavior seem primarily characterized by a complete absence of moral scruple. The reader of this introspective tale on espionage and erotomania should indeed be equipped with intrepidity and a turn toward the intrinsic values of society, for within this book in abrupt and brazen word is depicted a cross section of the NOW generation, whose shabby and sordid creatures reveal themselves undeniable. The story concerns a segment of humanity which for obvious reasons must be brought to light for inspection and inquiry. Written in shocking detail, the narrative could well be a psychological expedition into the hinterland of man's unconscious id-that part of the thinking process containing all of the component sexual instincts, originating the erotogenic zones (oral, anal, and genital), and including the instinct of aggression.
This substratum of biologically determined impulse in man is present in each of us, lying submerged from our conscious awareness, but motivating us in acts which often seem lacking in purpose or directive. It is the id which transforms man into the ambivalent personality from which he vacillates with little or no knowledge of his basic drives. The story plot in Sinnocent Abroad centers about a young victim of man's lust and bestiality, whose id drove her away from a heterosexual life toward homosexuality in search of fulfillment. Cynthia Walters' traumatic encounter with an uncle at a young age becomes the pivot point in her life, swinging her ever farther from the norm into the realm of inversion and deviation. Struggle as she may with her superego (conscience), she is powerless against this most devastating force that controls her conscious behavior. The reader lives with Cynthia through tempestuous days of ravening desire when the mania for her own sex seeks to devour and destroy her, when the allure for repressed sexual gratification drives her recklessly toward utter oblivion. It is a tale of one caught in the harsh pincers of fate's own particular brand of torture, and definitely geared to adult reading by those mature enough to rationalize the behavior of the characters in the light of our current standards.
Sexual inversion in the female has been as prevalent down the years as homosexuality in men, extending even to distinguished women in all ages and in all fields of society. Catherine II of Russia is represented to have been bisexual and Queen Hats-chepsu of Egypt consistently represented herself in statue in masculine costume, even to the extent of wearing a beard. Queen Christina of Sweden exhibited marked masculine traits and her biographers regard her as bisexual or homosexual. Rosa Bon-heur, French painter and woman of genius, frequently dressed as a man on the streets of Paris. Since the days of Sappho, literature has recounted great love and passion among women. The works of Diderot, Balzac, Gautier, Flaubert, and even Zola have described female sexual inversion in a manner predisposed toward passionate sensuality mixed with idealistic feelings of love and affection. Even among the legends of Indian mythology is to be found stories of homosexuality. D.C. McMurtrie in his A Legend of Lesbian Love Among the North American Indians tells of a folk tale involving a man, whose wife fell in love with his sister and ran away with her. Later a boneless child was born as the result of this union. The husband found the wife and killed both her and the deformed child. A similar legend in the mythology of the Fox Indians relates the story of two young females who were drawn together through homosexual desire. They often went into the woods together and stayed for prolonged periods, and during one such time, a pair of youths followed them and found them in the act of coitus. The girl enacting the male role " ... fell over backward. Her clitoris was standing out and had a queer shape; it was like a turtle's penis. Thereupon the maidens began to plead with the youths ... 'Truly it is not of our own free desire that we have done this thing. We have done it under the influence of some unknown being.' It is said that afterward one of the maidens became big with child. In the course of time, she gave birth and the child was like a soft-shell turtle." In this same regard, ancient Hindu medical works also mention the possibility of a woman sexually uniting with another female and begetting a boneless fetus.
Homosexuality in the larger sense can be seen in all of society, from the vantage point of man's dividing himself into sexual groups at every level of behavior to the show of genuine affection exhibited between males and especially among women, who tend to show a greater need for ties of affection. There is conclusive evidence that admiration is felt and shown within the sexes. Thus, it must be concluded that only in the most exaggerated sense when sexual excitation is experienced can homosexuality be termed true inversion. A series of comparisons has established itself in the human mind starting with the antithesis: male-female; good-bad; right-left; high-low; and above-below. In every neurotic female there appears to be a refusal to be a female in the "below" category, socially as well as sexually. The female who is inferior in looks, intelligence, or position and cannot either compensate for that inferiority by displaying superiority in some way artistic or scientific, or otherwise reconcile herself to her inferior position, wishes consciously and unconsciously to be a man. She may consciously parade herself as masculine as possible without objective recognition of her role. Unconsciously she dreams herself into a male personality, physically, mentally, socially, and sexually. Her wish to be in the "above" category causes her to play a man's part in love as well as in society. All of this data voices what Adler terms "the masculine protest" by the female sex. However, homosexual behavior should certainly be distinguished from homosexual leanings. Cynthia Walters was basically a normally sexed female until such time that she was brutally maltreated by her uncle. So great was her sexual humiliation at this time that her heterosexual tendencies were smothered by fear and hate for the male sex with the result that she carried this mania into her adult life, moving toward homosexuality until she became a complete Lesbian. Cynthia's case is not unique, as many women are often driven into spinsterhood, frigidity, and Lesbianism because of an early unfavorable sexual encounter.
The setting of Sinnocent Abroad is laid primarily in contemporary Paris against a backdrop of espionage, gangsterism, and prostitution. Uniquely, spying as well as harlotry has been practiced since our earliest records. In Biblical times, Delilah was in reality a secret agent of the Philistines whose purpose it was to weaken Samson. The ancient empires of Asia had well-organized systems of espionage, and during the 13th century, the Mongols had a spy system which was unequaled until the time of the 19th century. Espionage was used for five centuries by the church to ferret out unbelievers, and this practice continued up into the Middle Ages. Even Napoleon, who distrusted all spies, built up an elaborate and costly secret police service among whom were his agents Joseph Fouche and Karl Schulmeister. And so it has gone down the years with espionage and counterespionage being used both for good and for evil purposes. In our story, Cynthia, whose latent sexual tendencies are unknown to her government, goes to France on an assignment for the American State Department and is drawn into a web of international intrigue manipulated by professional criminals whose devious goals are reached through channels of blood and blackmail. The target of this particular ring is the discrediting and humiliation of the United States by luring some of their emotionally disturbed personnel into compromising situations. The characters drawn by Ian Johns are without parallel, dredged from the veritable core of humanity; cunning and without honor. Their single purpose is the destruction of their prey. One of the members of the spy ring is the beautiful Arlene Richards, an American embassy employee. Morally depraved and fraught with cupidity, Arlene presents to the reader the epitome of deviation. Arlene is a practicing prostitute and an established bisexual. Havelock Ellis, along with other early psychologists, believed inversion among prostitutes to be an integral part of the profession, while it was Hirschfeld's contention that inverted females are prone toward prostitution. The harlot's professional sexual relations with men preclude social equality and as a general rule, sexual satisfaction. She must find these attributes in a procurer or in a female lover. Ellis also felt that in a large number of cases, prostitutes show signs of neurotic heredity with a tendency toward homosexuality, and tests made in this area do appear to bear out his theory. It is to the sinister and reprehensible Arlene that Cynthia succumbs to escape her former sexual identification. The scenes depicted in Cynthia's demoralization are unforgettably graphic and pointed. Nothing is left to the imagination of the reader in this display of felonious and degenerate human behavior, and he is seized with the awareness of the widespread depravity extant throughout every area of our existence. As mentioned prior, the basic characters are psychopathic and though often winsome and charming when it suits their purpose, they have no hesitation in selling out their best friends for the sake of personal advantage and will not balk at murder if seriously frustrated. The psychopath, who is often intelligent; generally exhibits poor judgment and his only rule of conduct seems to be one of expediency. He appears incapable of postponement and long-range planning and his least whim demands prompt gratification. He may become fiercely angry when opposed, but quickly recovers his equanimity when his end is gained or if something happens to change the direction of his desire. A psychopath may commit a crime of passion on the spur of the moment and begin cold-bloodedly to cover his tracks a moment later. Certainly, as the reader addresses himself to the personality of the characters in this story, he can evaluate the various types of immorality and relate them to the psychopathic personality. In a psychological sense, Sinnocent Aboard speaks to a portion of our society which should be analyzed without secrecy. It is true that each of the characters depicted here share in common with the balance of humanity a turntable personality of obliquity and impeccability. To understand this ambiguity, and to unlock the path that walks undaunted between these two halves, I feel to be the answer to the riddle of society.
If the reader will but read, not with an eye for lustful or depraved deed, but with concern to put each component of this sick society in its proper perspective-piece by piece, bit by bit, he may strike at the destruction and decay so prevalent in our times.
Shakespeare said it 400 years ago:
"Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws. And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as they fleets, And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one more heinous crime."
-L. Lowag
CHAPTER ONE
When the man pulled down his jockey shorts, his erect cock sprung straight out in front of his body, his heavy balls hanging in the blue-veined sack covered with short, black curly hair. Cynthia's pale blue eyes widened and she gasped. He began to move toward her, the small hole at the end of his cock staring her in the eye.
Cynthia closed her eyes, using all her effort to seal them tightly. Her knuckles turned stark white as she bunched the sheet in her hands, gripping it with all her might. This is what you want, she told herself, and you have to go through with it! You must find out; you have to know; you can't go on like this any longer!
The man looked at the young blonde on the bed before him, his eyes moving slowly, appraisingly over her well-turned calves, up those creamy white thighs with the firm, molded skin. Her legs were slightly spread, one knee in the air and the other flat on the bed. He could see the thin pink slit of her cunt covered with the soft blonde tufts of hair that formed a small mound, raised slightly from her flat belly. His eyes lingered on her virginal cunt for a moment, his tongue moistening his lips as he thought of ramming his hard cock through that soft hair up into her white belly.
"God, what a piece of ass!" he muttered, as his eyes moved slowly upward over her rib cage to caress the large, soft white mounds rising from her chest. Two, bright-red nipples surrounded by dark circles stared at him. He stopped for a moment, feasting his eyes on the most luscious set of tits he had ever seen. They were like two fully ripe melons, oversized for the girl's body, but perfectly shaped. The bright-red nipples topping the pure white skin of the breasts reminded the man of luscious, ripe strawberries cresting soft whipped cream.
"Oh, baby, we're really going to ball it!" he said, reaching down and stroking his heavy hard cock with his hand as he moved closer to the naked blonde on the bed. He saw her body shake as he spoke, and he took this for a tremendous craving on Cynthia's part. Lowering himself beside her on the bed, he reached out and cupped the upper portion of her breast in his hand, kneading and teasing the nipple. With his other hand he reached out and gently pulled her face toward his. He felt her resist and he applied firm pressure, bringing her ripe sensual lips close to his.
Cynthia's grip on the sheet tightened. The rough feel of his hand on her breast sent a shudder racing through her body and she could smell his whisky laden breath wafting against her cheek. His rigid, moist cock was pressing hard against her thigh. Her muscles tensed as she felt his hairy arm scrape against her soft skin, pulling her face to his. She fought bravely against the nausea sweeping through her body.
Dear God, she thought to herself, why? Why am I like this? What's wrong with me? Do all women feel like this and somehow manage to conceal their true feelings? No, it couldn't be! Some of her girl friends told her they loved sex, even craved it. Then why was she like this? Why did the feel of a man's touch make her freeze up, want her to be sick to her stomach? Why? Why? Why?
No matter what, Cynthia told herself, I have to go through with this! She owed nothing to the man. After all, she had allowed him to pick her up at the bar in the Shoreham, forced herself to make polite conversation and endure all his suggestive, crude remarks, then agreed to go to his room with him. No, she owed him nothing. She hadn't even allowed him to buy her dinner. But she did owe herself something. She owed herself positive proof that she was normal, and not some freak walking the streets.
A common pick-up! Her brain reeled at the implication. Cynthia Walters-a common pick-up, a cheap whore! Her mind quaked and her body shuddered at the thought. Then she felt his rough, moist lips pressing against hers. His alcoholic breath was overpowering now, permeating her nostrils and causing her to gag. She felt his tongue with its grainy tip running along the inside of her lips and trying to wedge itself between her teeth to pry them open. She held them clenched tightly together, fighting against having his awful tongue invade her mouth. Suddenly the man pinched her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.
"Aaaaauuuggghhh!" she cried, as the pain in her breast shot through her entire body. The minute she opened her mouth to cry out, the man's tongue shot inside. Cynthia realized too late that the pain he had subjected her to had been for that express purpose. Now the sour taste of his mouth flowed down his tongue and ran into hers. Cynthia let go of the sheet in an effort to push him away, but he was too strong for her. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and pinned her arms to the bed above her head. Then, moving his head slowly and letting his tongue leave a moist trail across her neck and down her chest, the man held her arms pinioned while he lustily sucked the ripe nipple of her breast into his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around the firm nipple and sucked hard, his teeth grazing the deep brown aureole.
The feel of her soft breast in his mouth sent a tingle racing through his loins. With his free hand he reached down and pulled her tightly clasped thighs apart, sending his racing fingers to her silky blonde crotch. He felt Cynthia struggle beneath him and he tightened his grip. She's one of those broads who'll go to your room with you, but wants you to rape her, he thought. Well, don't worry, baby, he said to himself, I'm gonna give you seven inches of solid steel up that cunt! You'll know you've been fucked when I get through with you!
He roughly pulled the lips of her cunt open and inserted his middle finger between the soft folds of flesh. Finding the hole, the man began inching his finger up inside her. She was dry and tight, her body squirming to dislodge the foreign member from her body, and he applied pressure as his finger sunk into her cunt to its first joint.
"Aaaaauuughhh!" she screamed, as his brutal finger wedged itself deeper and deeper into her dry vaginal passage.
"Shut up!" he commanded, sinking his teeth hard into her soft breast. "I'll give you something to really cry about if you don't shut up!"
He hated these broads who wiggled their ass at every man they saw, then screamed when the man spread their legs for them. Goddamned prick-teasers, he'd always called them. Well, this one would get a lesson she wouldn't soon forget! With one hard thrust he shoved his finger up to the knuckle in her dry cunt, then began a brutal sawing motion to open her tight passage.
Cynthia was helpless. The man grabbed her hair viciously in his hand and forced her head back on the bed. She could see the thin trails of saliva seeping from his rough lips as he moved his mouth toward her face. In horror she watched his tongue dart out and moisten his lips as he pressed forward to bring his mouth into contact with hers. Her cunt was throbbing with pain as his finger brutally raped her virginal opening with his finger. The nausea sweeping through her was almost uncontrollable.
She felt her stomach heave and she was certain she would vomit in his face. It was only with a great effort that she was able to swallow and force the sour liquid back into her stomach.
She felt blood swimming around her fingernails where she had broken the skin on his arm trying to push him away. Then his mouth clamped against hers, his tongue running into hers and swabbing the inside of her mouth like sandpaper.
"Your cunt's too dry, baby,' 'he whispered hoarsely. "What we need to do is get you turned on and warmed up. Maybe sucking a good, hard cock will get you going, huh?"
He pulled his body up until his knees were straddling her sides, his heavy balls brushing against her nipples as he moved his rigid cock slowly toward her mouth. Cynthia's eyes widened as she saw the long, dark tan shaft with its bulging purple veins steadily advancing at her face. She felt his balls drag across her breasts and fall heavily against her throat and chin. Tiny droplets of moist semen oozed from the head of his inflated cock, making it glisten as though it carried a thousand tiny lights.
"No! Don't!" she pleaded, as he jerked his hips forward and planted the dark head of his cock against the base of her nose. The pungent odor of sex permeated her flared nostrils and seeped into every pore of her skin. It was more than she could bear. The very thought of taking his slimy cock in her mouth was too much! "Please don't! Use me if you must, I deserve that for coming here with you, but don't make me touch you!"
He grabbed her hair roughly and jerked her head up.
"Suck it!" he ordered.
"Pleeaaassss...." Cynthia never finished her plea. The moment she opened her mouth to beg him to leave her alone, the man jerked his hips forward and rammed his swollen cock between her lips and teeth. She felt it rush into her mouth, bruising her lips, scrapping against her teeth, grinding against her tongue and then bouncing off the roof of her mouth to fill her throat with its giant head. His pubic hair ground against her soft lips and he made an obscene thrust with his hips to sink his cock deeper between her red lips.
Cynthia blacked out momentarily. Her body felt like a thousand tiny needles were pricking her skin. The nausea she had been holding in check now raged out of control. Her stomach retched and her throat heaved. Perspiration broke out on her forehead and ran in small rivers down her cheeks. She panicked, gasping for air, grasping for freedom. With every ounce of strength she had, Cynthia wiggled, squirmed, pushed and heaved to dislodge the giant cock from her mouth. She broke his skin in a dozen places with her fingernails, trying to topple his body from on top of hers, but he had his knees firmly planted on the bed and by pulling his thighs in he was able to ride her like a horse. She couldn't move him, couldn't remove the filthy cock that was invading her mouth, no matter what she did. Her panic increased until she was reacting from terror. Cynthia felt she would die if she didn't free herself from the man who was raping her mouth. With a strength that comes only in those moments of blind terror, Cynthia managed to free her hand from beneath his leg. She struck out with all her force at the nearest thing to her fist-his crotch. She felt her knuckles sink in the soft sack containing his throbbing balls and she pushed as hard as she could.
"Oooowww!" he screamed in agony, his knees buckling and causing him to fall to her side. "You dirty, rotten bitch!" he groaned, holding his aching balls in his hand and trying to recover his breath.
Cynthia jumped from the bed and leaped across the small room. She glanced quickly hack over her shoulder and saw the man doubled up in pain on the bed. She knew she didn't have much time before he would recover, so she grabbed her coat and slipped her feet into her high heel pumps and bolted out of the room, leaving the rest of her clothes in a pile on the floor. Pulling her coat on and buttoning it tight so that no one would know she had nothing on under it, Cynthia skipped down the hall and jumped into the elevator.
CHAPTER TWO
Cynthia Walters paced back and forth through her small apartment. Even the steaming hot shower had failed to take the chill of the night air from her skin. She had gone to bed hoping to find sleep because tomorrow was a work day, but Cynthia tossed and turned until her body was all wrapped in the sheets and blankets. She got up and took two sleeping pills, then crawled back into bed only to toss and turn some more. Now, in her bathrobe and slippers, she was restlessly pacing the three small rooms of her apartment.
"Could he trace me here?" she asked aloud. Her voice echoed in the empty apartment, reminding her of how truly alone she was in the world. Of course not, she answered to herself. I had the presence of mind to grab my purse as I left, and there's nothing in my clothes to identify me or tell him where I live, she argued. Then she remembered seeing one of the men from the state department at the Shoreham, but she felt sure he hadn't recognized her. She'd only seen him a few times and she was certain he didn't know who she was.
Cynthia remembered that the man had said he was from California and would be leaving Washington to return home the next day. Maybe she should call in and stay home sick until she was positive he was out of town. What in God's name possessed her to let him pick her up like a cheap whore in the first place? Knowing too well the answer to that question, she leaned against the wall in the living room and sobbed.
"Dear God, what's the matter with me?" she moaned.
She plopped down in a chair and nervously lighted her tenth cigarette since she had been secure in her apartment. Cynthia took two quick puffs and then stubbed it out in the ash try on the coffee table, stood up and began to pace the floor again.
On moments like this, and Cynthia had had too many of them lately, she reviewed her life searching for some clue to her personality. A warmth flowed through her as she remembered her mother, that sweet, kind woman who believed the world and everyone in it was good. Those were wonderful times when she and her mother and father had gone to the lake boating and picnicking. Her father always pretended he was going to throw her in the lake, but he never did. He was so kind, so gentle, so fun-loving. He would pick her up and hold her over the side of the boat, then pull her close to him and kiss her forehead.
And the time they all went to the football game together! How many hot dogs had she consumed? They kept warning she would be sick, but they bought her one every time the man went by. And she was sick, so terribly sick with an awful tummy ache the next day!
And school. She was always so proud of her parents when they attended the social functions at school. They were such a handsome pair, and everybody looked at them with such envy. Cynthia used to walk between them, her hands locked in each of theirs.
There had been problems. Like the time her father spent too much on a new set of golf clubs and the bank account was overdrawn. Her mother cried almost all night, complaining that she didn't know where the money would come from to pay the mortgage on the house. But they managed-they always did. Her father would borrow from the bank and pay back out of his salary, saying that if you weren't in debt you weren't a true American.
Then that awful night. They were driving home from a party when the train hit their car. Cynthia remembered that she was waiting up for them, anxious to tell them that she had joined the Girl Scouts that afternoon. She fell asleep twice, and then the policeman woke her with a gentle shake of her shoulder. She was frightened to see that strange man in her room at night and she screamed. Another policeman came with her Uncle Bill in tow and they took her downstairs to the living room.
Her parents never knew what hit them, they said. The bodies had been recovered and death was instantaneous. Thank God for that, Cynthia said to herself.
That was the beginning of a long nightmare for her, one that would last until she found her real self. When she thought of her Uncle Bill, Cynthia clenched and unclenched her fists and bit her lower lip. God how she hated that man! Just the thought of him sent shivers through her, and she collapsed on the couch with her head buried in her hands.
He was the only member of her family left and they told her she would have to live with him after her parents died. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead when she thought about him and what he had done to her. It was like a dream sequence turning into a horrible nightmare! She remembered the neighbors helping her pack up her things, her clothes going into all of her parent's suitcases and her toys being carefully packed in boxes. Nothing about the days of that awful week seemed real to Cynthia. She moved when people told her to, did what they wanted her to do, but it was like she wasn't there at all, like she was an outsider observing all that was going on around her.
Uncle Bill's apartment was the penthouse on the tallest building in town. She used to love to go there and visit with her parents. She could sit by the window and look down on everything in Hartford. She giggled at the cars that looked like ants and the people who looked like specks of dust on the streets below. It was great fun to visit, but going to live with Uncle Bill scared her. She had heard her father remark about how worthless his brother was, how much money he had, how he scandalized the town with his romantic adventures, how he had a different woman living with him every week.
Cynthia knew her uncle drank a lot. She'd seen him drunk many times when the family visited, and one Christmas he had so much to drink he got into an argument with her father and knocked him down in their own living room. She hated him for that, and then she was forced to live with him.
From the very beginning her uncle had made it plain that he wasn't any happier about the arrangement than she was. He continually complained that he would have to rearrange his entire life, and he told her that she was to stay in her room at nights and not bother him.
Two months, that was all it lasted-two brief, horror-filled months! Cynthia had tried, she really had! She'd been quiet in the apartment, stayed at school as late as she could, and intruded on his life as little as possible. But he was drinking more and more, and when he was drunk Cynthia was afraid of him. He became mean and belligerent when he was drinking, and he used foul language. Cynthia did her best to avoid him when he was like that.
Her entire body began shuddering and tears rolled from her eyes as she remembered that night he came home late and barged into her room. He was drunk, reeking of liquor and stale cigarette smoke. The light from the living room framed him in the doorway as he stood there staring at her in bed. Cynthia came awake and sat bolt upright in the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She saw him hesitate and then start into the room.
"No!" she screamed, recognizing a shadow of danger descending upon her. "No! Go away!"
"You've ruined my life, you little bitch," he growled, "so you damned well can take care of my needs!"
His large hand grabbed the covers and ripped them away from her grasp. His other hand shot out and grabbed the neckline of her nightgown. With one savage pull he ripped the gown from her body and threw it to the floor. She saw his hand tremble as his eyes swept over her budding body. Her breasts, already large and well-formed, heaved as fright sped through her. He watched them go up and down and then she saw his gaze sweep to the "V" where her legs met. Her hands shot down to cover the small pubic mound which was just growing its first covering of golden blonde hair, but he was too quick for her and grabbed her wrists in a steel grip, holding her hands high above her body while his eyes feasted on the young slit of her cunt.
Cynthia's body shook on the couch as she remembered her uncle's hand shooting down between her legs, his fingers roughly exploring her virginal region. She could remember the glassy stare in his eyes as he began ripping his clothes off. His mouth was open, and she could still hear him panting. Then the sight of his swollen cock springing from his underpants frightened her and she screamed. He whipped his hand viciously across her face, the sting bringing tears flooding from her' young eyes.
She sobbed as he ran his rough hands over her body, feeling, pinching and caressing her most secret parts. His hand between her legs was killing Cynthia, the rough fingers probing and pinching the soft flesh. She felt his finger press against her cunt opening, his nail digging into the firm fleshy interior as he invaded her bit by bit. She screamed and began crying hysterically, but it only seemed to egg him on. He took his giant cock in his hand and leaned down to rub its sticky tip against her soft nipples.
Cynthia used all her strength to fight him violently, her arms and legs flailing against his hard body, but he climbed on top of her and pinned her arms down with his knees. Then, taking his cock in hand again, he began rubbing it in her face. He pushed the swollen blue tip into her eyes, ran it along her nose, pushed it against her lips, each move leaving a glistening, sticky trail of moisture on her helpless face.
Then she heard his breathing increase in tempo, his foul, whisky-stained breath coming at her in deep gasps. He moved back and pushed her legs apart brutally, his fingers digging deep into her soft white thighs. He kneeled between her legs and began inching his inflated cock toward the small pink slit before him. She felt him touch her, then a pain shot through her body as he impaled her on his rigid cock with one mighty stroke.
She cried out in anguish, but it was of no use. He couldn't hear her or see her in his blind lust. Bracing his feet against the end of the bed, he lunged at her with all his might. The searing, stabbing pain ran from the walls of her now extended and ravaged cunt, coursing through her body. She felt his heavy balls slap against her soft ass with each cutting stab he delivered to her cunt. His cock felt like it was lodged in her belly, ripping and tearing at all of her inner organs.
He held her hands pinned to the bed beside her head and lowered his slobbering mouth to hers. She tried to bite his lip, and he repaid her with a vicious stab in her cunt. She felt his hot breath beating against her cheeks and the saliva from his mouth dripping onto her lips, and Cynthia's body went into convulsions.
Cynthia remembered biting his lip one moment when his guard was down. He howled with pain and slapped her face as hard as he could three times. Not satisfied with the punishment he had already dealt her, he pulled his cock from her cunt and picked her body up and turned it over on the bed.
"That's the last time you'll bite me, by God!" he muttered, as he grabbed her waist and lifted her tail high in the air. Positioning himself on his knees behind her exposed buttocks, he spread the cheeks of her ass until his target was plainly visible. Then, with no effort to make it easier on her, he pressed his cock against the tiny elastic ring that guarded the entrance of her anus. She screamed and flipped her head from side to side as she felt him expanding her asshole with his rigid rod.
"This is what they call a hot enema, honey," he said laughing. "You'll love it."
Cynthia felt the elastic ring pop as his surging cock pressed into her asshole. She had never known such pain before in her life. It surged through her body as if she had a hot branding iron shoved up her. She screamed and beat her fists against the bed, but he kept pressing harder and harder against her. Then the canal gave way with a slushing sound and she felt his prick ram up inside her, ripping and tearing against the young flesh as the shaft sank deeper and deeper inside the small brown hole.
Now his hips worked like pile drivers, beating his pelvis unmercifully against her soft buttocks. She heard his balls slap hard against the lips of her cunt. The pain increased as her bleeding rectum was battered relentlessly by the lust-filled animal behind her. Then she felt the hot spurts of liquid shooting up her ass. His thick cum filled her tiny rectum and began flowing back along the rapidly deflating shaft of his cock. She felt it mix with her blood and run down her legs to make a puddle beneath her on the bed.
When he pulled his cock out of her ass, Cynthia felt like he was pulling half of her internal organs with it. It scraped and ripped along the canal and then came out with the sound of a bottle popping its cork.
The minute she was free of his cock, Cynthia made one mighty effort and spun around on the bed. Her hand shot up and she raked his face with her fingernails, digging deep into the skin tissue and leaving bright red trails of blood streaming down his face. He was stunned for a moment. His hand rose to his face and wiped away blood. With unbelieving eyes he looked at the fresh streaks of blood on his hand.
"You dirty little bitch!" he grunted. "You no good, dirty little bitch!"
He struggled with her for a moment and then climbed on top of her, placing his knees on her arms and sitting on her belly. She saw him take his limp cock in his hand and aim it at her. Before she realized what he was doing, a steaming hot stream of yellow liquid poured forth from the tiny hole in the head of his cock. It came directly at her face, covering her with a foul-smelling, sticky coat of urine. Using his cock like a water pistol, he sprayed every inch of her face and hair, then rose on his knees and began spraying her breasts, belly and finally her blood-ravaged cunt. Hours of heavy drinking had concentrated in his balls and he let what seemed to be a never-ending stream cover her entire body.
Then he stood above her, waving his cock down at her.
"That's what you're good for, honey," he laughed, "to piss on!"
He stumbled off of the bed and through the door to the living room, whistling a tune as he bumped into furniture on his way to bed. Cynthia would remember that sleepless night as long as she lived. She sat huddled in the comer of her bed, sobbing and crying as her ravaged body and humiliated mind protested what had happened to her.
She stood up and began pacing the floor of her small apartment again. Cynthia had promised herself she would never think of that night again. She had spent anguished weeks and lost countless hours of sleep thinking about that horrid hour when she was twelve years old.
Cynthia knew it was an accident, yet she couldn't help feeling she'd had a hand in his death. She'd been in a semi state of shock the next afternoon when the policeman came to the apartment and had her dress to go to the hospital with him. How many times that night had she wished her uncle dead? And now the policeman was telling her that he had been hit by a car crossing the street.
They rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. Her uncle died a few minutes after he was admitted to the emergency room. Cynthia went to pieces and became hysterical when the doctor told her. They had to put her in a room under sedation until she could recover enough to be moved.
Try as she would, Cynthia could remember only bits and pieces through the thick haze of the next few weeks. Her uncle's estate went to her as the surviving heir, and provisions had been made for a guardian and a trust for her living and education. She moved in with her guardian and his wife, kindly old friends of the family, but Cynthia was listless. She had no interest in anything and she acted as if she was in a state of limbo. It was only after expending a great deal of patience that her guardian was able to get through to her, create an interest in school and a spark for living.
The process was gradual, but little by little Cynthia came out of her shell. She took an interest in school and climbed quickly to the top of her class. She became assistant editor of the school newspaper and looked forward to college and a degree in journalism.
Cynthia smiled as she thought back on those treasured, golden days of her life. For a period she knew complete security, was popular with her teachers and friends, and felt a marvelous empathy with her guardian and his wife. It wasn't like having a mother and father, but she did feel she had a home she could call her own.
The smile vanished from her face and she began pacing back and forth again as she remembered when all her trouble started. It was in her third year of high school. Up until that point, Cynthia had dated very little, limiting herself to an occasional movie or a soda with a boy at the Hamburger Haven. Cynthia never felt comfortable with boys and she was always on her guard. She knew she wasn't wealthy, but "comfortably fixed," as her guardian put it, and she warned herself that she would have to take care that some boy didn't court her money instead of her.
Whenever she was asked for a date, Cynthia begged off with one excuse or another. Then she realized that most of her girl friends had steady boys and she had none. Her best friend even asked her why she never dated!
Cynthia walked into the tiny kitchen and began warming some milk in a pan. "If I don't get some sleep," she said aloud, "I'll look ghastly at the office tomorrow!" She watched the milk swirl in the pan as she stirred it to keep it from scalding, and she thought about Bob. He was her first serious date in high school. They went to a school dance together and then he drove her down to the little lover's lane all the kids used behind the school gymnasium. She liked Bob and they'd had a wonderful evening together, but when he tried to kr. her she froze and suddenly became hysterical
"Poor Bob," she sighed, pouring the hot milk into a large glass and turning the stove off. He was dumbfounded and had to slap her to make her stop sobbing and crying. He never asked for another date, but he was just the first of many. It happened every time a boy tried to kiss her or even take her in his arms. At the beginning. Cynthia thought it was the boy, that for some unknown reason she felt repulsed by the boy. Then, as it continued on date after date, Cynthia knew that it was something within her.
In college, she forced herself to let boys kiss her. Often she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands until they bled in an effort to control her hysteria. It was fruitless, and on one occasion, Cynthia vomited in a boy's lap when he attempted to fondle her breast. His touch on her intimate region nauseated her and she lost control. After that Cynthia stopped dating.
On her twenty-first birthday the trust reverted to Cynthia and she found herself a wealthy young lady. Money was not important to her, however, and she hardly changed a thing in her way of living. She took a small apartment near campus, but spent every weekend at her guardian's home.
In her second year at college, Cynthia had a crush on one of her professors. He was the handsome young man brought in to teach political science, and Cynthia impulsively changed her major from journalism to political science.
Cynthia smiled when she thought of how this one impulsive incident contributed to forging a career for her. She drank the warm milk slowly, pulling off her robe and climbing into bed. Cynthia's body began to relax as she fondly thought of her job at the state department and the thousand and one challenges it threw at her daily. She had been in Washington eight months now and she loved her work. Between them, the dean of women at her college and her guardian had managed to pull a few strings to land her the position in the government. At first she had doubted her ability, but now Cynthia was certain she would make this her life work.
Her eyes snapped open and her hands gripped the sheets as the thought of the man kneeling on the bed clutching his groin in pain raced through her mind again. "No!" she said aloud, commanding herself to push the thought from her consciousness.
"I had to try it," she pleaded with herself as the sleeping pills finally began to take effect and a great black cloud drifted through her mind. "I had to find out!"
CHAPTER THREE
Arlene could not understand why all these meetings had to take place over in the Left Bank section. With Paris traffic the way it was today one had to allow better than a half an hour to get anywhere the other side of the river. Using Rue de LaFayette, Arlene pushed the small Renault through the congested traffic. Two blocks before she reached the Opera House, Arlene made a left turn and began winding through the side streets where some of the smartest shops in Paris were just opening for the day's business. This was the long way, but in heavy traffic the fastest by far. Arlene was determined to avoid the Champs Elysees, which she knew would be an absolute mess at this hour.
Skillfully gliding in and out, Arlene quickly worked her way to the Arc De Triomphe where she picked up Avenue Victor Hugo and headed south to cross the Seine below the Eiffel Tower. Traffic was much lighter in the southern district, and Ar lene made her way quickly to Rue de Vaugirard and up to Rue Genevieve where she parked the black Renault and walked to the entrance of the old four-story building in which Rene LeGrand lived.
The concierge nodded to her as she climbed the stairs to the third floor. Why is it that all Communists feel they must appear to be middle-class, Arlene wondered? Rene's apartment was as luxurious as any in Paris, yet it was concealed within this old, broken-down building with no elevator! "It isn't civilized to live three flights up without an elevator," Arlene muttered, as she let herself into the apartment with her key.
Arlene thought many of the intrigues the Communists engaged in were childish, but she carefully kept this to herself. After all, they employed her, paid her well for her services, and they held the power of life and death over her family in East Germany.
At twenty-five, Arlene Richards, alias Arlene Brandt, was a striking brunette dressed in the highest fashion, who wore only real jewelry. She held a responsible position at the American embassy, had a beautiful furnished apartment, her own car, and a comfortable bank account. She was not the least bit interested in politics, local or international, and lived with only the thought of accumulating wealth and possessions to make her life even more comfortable. Arlene was realistic enough to know that she had but two assets: sex, and she would do or submit to anything they wished; and the ability to do exactly as she was told with no questions asked. Arlene used both of her assets to her best advantage.
Four men were present in the large living room when Arlene entered. They nodded to her and continued their conversation. She glanced at Rene, who pointed to his empty coffee cup, and Arlene immediately put her puree down and picked up the silver coffee service and began making the rounds filling each cup. She went to the kitchen and put an assortment of sweet rolls on a silver tray and again made the rounds. Each of the men nodded in gratitude as he chose a roll, and the conversation continued.
"To sum up, then, gentlemen," Rene said, "this new policy has a two-fold purpose. First, it is to embarrass the Americans through the wide open coverage of government scandals by their press. And secondly, we will gain perhaps some valuable intelligence as a residual profit in the aftermath."
"You forget the prime goal, Rene," the heavy-set man near the window commented. Arlene glanced at him when she heard his heavy accent. He was obviously from Moscow, and Arlene suspected he was someone very important.
"We must discredit the new secretary of state," the heavy-set man continued. "Moscow feels he can be dangerous to much of our overall planning."
"Of course, of course," Rene responded. "I hadn't forgotten, comrade, I merely take it for granted that once these small scandals break, the secretary of state will be not only embarrassed, but thoroughly discredited."
The men laughed and Arlene joined them by smiling graciously as she picked up the silver tray and returned it to the kitchen. Carlson St. John, one of the party's bright young men trained in the United States, leaned forward and addressed a question to the heavy-set man.
"You realize, of course, comrade," he began "that I do not question the party's policy. I would, however, for my own information like to understand why we attack the State Department with sex scandals. In a way this all seems so petty and below us."
"You're correct, of course, Comrade Carlson," the heavy-set man replied, "but you fail to understand world opinion, and especially the opinion of the average American citizen. Americans have never quite recovered from their Puritan heritage. While they enjoy sex, they shrink from any public display of sexual conduct. They also nurture the delightful belief that sexual conduct on the part of someone in a responsible position impairs his ability to perform his duties...."
"They also feel that sex can turn a man into a traitor," Rene interrupted.
"Precisely," the heavy-set man continued. "And in that they have built their own web for our intrigue. By making almost any form of sexual conduct a crime for people in responsible positions, they have made it possible for us to blackmail some of their top secrets from them. Unfortunately, however, we have received very little from these channels. The Americans grossly exaggerate the effectiveness of sexual blackmail."
The heavy-set man stood up and walked to the window. Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his Italian silk suit, he uttered a long sigh.
"We shall continue to work those channels, of course," he said, "but that, Comrade Carlson, is why we have instituted our new policy of creating sex scandals to embarrass the American State Department. Moscow was quite impressed by the chaos the Profumo case caused in London. And the Walter Jenkins affair certainly gave President Johnson some very uncomfortable moments, not to mention that marvelous Bobby Baker fiasco."
"And with the coverage of the free press," Rene interrupted, "we continually point up how decadent the democratic societies are!"
"Is all of this clear, Comrade Carlson?" the heavy-set man asked.
"Yes," Carlson St. John replied. "But why don't we create a giant scandal like the Profumo case?"
"Because, comrade," the heavy-set man replied, "that takes many years of planning work. By setting off a series of individual scandals one after the other, we achieve the same goal. In a matter of just a few months we will have the entire world believing that the United States Department employs nothing but homosexuals and sexual degenerates. The turmoil this will cause within the United States government will give us much additional time for our programs of world communization, and it will make every member of the State Department suspect in the eyes of the world."
He returned to his seat and addressed his next question to Rene, dismissing Carlson St. John's question with a wave of his hand.
"Have we new targets?" he asked Rene.
"John Marks came in from Washington last night." Rene replied. "The Washington group was beginning on seven people this week, Two of them are under secretaries. We have reason to believe that the secretary of State's secretary might be a latent lesbian. She's in her forties and our file on her background shows it could be a possibility, so we're putting Gina, our best girl in Washington on her. Our easiest target, Harry Edwards, a crude, uneducated man who is acting as liaison between the State Department and the White House and received his appointment as a result of his political campaigning for the new President, is coming to Paris later this week. We'll handle him here, and we'll get him involved in some fantastic orgies. I'm putting Marie and Arlene on him. We also have a girl, Cynthia Walters, coming over here next week. She's young and new to the State Department, but she now holds an important position on the Cuban desk. We don't have much on her, but there's a chance Arlene can turn her into a Lesbian for a night or two. If so, maybe we can use her with the others to turn Mr. Harry Edwards inside out."
Carlson St. John laughed.
"It looks like Arlene will be a very busy sex machine this next week," he said.
Arlene had been quietly listening to the entire conversation. She smiled at Carlson, knowing he had been dying to get into her pants for months, but she had resisted his every overture. Sex meant one thing to Arlene-money. And Carlson St. John was not powerful enough in the party yet to have money.
"Yes, darling," she responded, "and a very rich girl the week after, no?"
"Your party loyalty thrills me, Arlene," Rene replied. "Yes, you'll be paid well. If you can set both Mr. Edwards and Miss Walters where we want them, you'll get a ten thousand dollar bonus. How does that sound to your little gold-digging heart?"
"Absolutely delicious. When do I start?"
"Miss Walters arrives first. The day after tomorrow, in fact."
CHAPTER FOUR
Cynthia was both thrilled and apprehensive when her boss told her they were sending her to Paris. Even though she dealt with foreign countries daily in her work, Cynthia had never been outside the United States. Her mind was filled with worries about language, wardrobe and a thousand things, and the responsibility of dealing directly with the American Ambassador concerned her. Why weren't they sending someone with more experience, someone who was used to handling things like this? Mr. Clark, her superior, explained that it was merely a routine matter of briefing the ambassador on the current Cuban economic situation so that he would be aware of the State Department's suspicion that DeGaulle's attack on the dollar was helping to support an underground trade with Cuba by French businessmen. Cynthia was to go because her position on the Cuban desk would enable her to answer any questions the ambassador might have.
Also, he said, she would be allowed ten days extra to see the sight and do as she pleased, and it didn't count against her vacation time. None of this made Cynthia feel any easier about her assignment.
Her own inner turmoil was such that she was beginning to doubt her ability to hold down the responsible position she had. Several times she headed for Mr. Clark's office to request that he send someone else, but each time his secretary advised her he was in conference. Then, before she knew it, Cynthia was on a jet to Paris.
"Cynthia Walters?"
Cynthia quickly appraised the striking brunette approaching her. She was tall and slender, dressed in a gorgeous beige silk suit that emphasized her sculptured body and set off her raven black hair to best advantage, and was flashing a genuinely warm smile. She carried one of the Orly Airport visitor tickets in one hand and a copy of France-Soir under her arm.
"Yes, I'm Cynthia Walters."
"Well great! I'm Arlene Richards from the embassy. They seem to think I have some magic way of making Paris traffic disappear, so they sent me out to pick you up."
"But, I thought...." Cynthia started to reply.
"No buts about it, Cynthia," Arlene responded, linking her arm in Cynthia's and leading her to the escalator. "The ambassador has a firm policy of never leaving a visiting member of our government to the mercy of a Paris taxi driver. Come along, you can get a magnificent view of Orly from the observation deck. I checked with the men at baggage and it will be half an hour before they can clear you through."
Cynthia found herself swept along with the beautiful, enthusiastic girl.
"I thought my diplomatic passport would take care of all that," she said.
"Oh, you won't have to pass customs. It's just that two big flights landed before yours and they're loaded at the baggage ramp. Anyway, it'll give us a moment to have a drink and become acquainted."
Cynthia watched a blue and white Air France Boeing jet take off while Arlene pointed out the areas assigned to each of the international air lines using Orly. Then they went downstairs and took a small table in the bar. Arlene ordered a Dubonnet with Vodka and Cynthia said she would try the same. The girls told each other a capsulated version of their life story, and Cynthia found herself immediately warming to the pretty brunette. Arlene seemed so outgoing, so friendly yet competent. She laughed when Arlene told her some of the antics American tourists became involved in when they visited Paris, and how the embassy generally had to untangle the mess and get the tourist on a plane back to the states.
Arlene bribed a porter to carry Cynthia's bags across the fifty feet of pavement to the parking lot. He kept telling her he wasn't supposed to, but she kept insisting.
"If I get the car and come back here," she explained to Cynthia, "I'll have to fight like hell to get in that lane over there. And if I don't get in that lane over there, we can't make the turn for the road to Paris. One time the traffic was so bad I had to go south, and I went all the way to Milly-la-For-et before I could turn around!"
The ride into Paris was filled with embassy gossip, and Cynthia marveled at how Arlene skillfully maneuvered the small black Renault through the heavy traffic and kept up a constant, interesting and humorous chatter all the time. She'd known Arlene for less than two hours, yet she felt that they were life-long friends.
"And if you don't like your accommodations," Arlene said, "you can blame me. They had reservations for you at the Victoria. It's right off the Champs Elysees, but it's a dump decorated in something I'd call Early Western Auto. I changed you to a small hotel out on Rue Nicol, that's not too far from the Montmartre district you've heard so much about. It's a small hotel and very, very French."
Cynthia's window faced north and she could see Sacre Coeur, its gleaming white basilica dominating the horizon. Two blocks above was the busy Rue de LaFayette and she watched the cars zoom by on their way to the central part of Paris.
All of the apprehension she had felt about her trip vanished when she met Arlene. She still dreaded her interview with the ambassador, but Arlene said that was scheduled for Saturday, which was five days off. In the meantime, Cynthia was free to do as she pleased, and Arlene had offered to show her the sights of Paris. How wonderful it was to have a friend like Arlene! What would she have done in a strange city in a foreign country all alone?
They went everywhere together, and when Arlene's duties at the embassy kept her away, she gave Cynthia a list of places near the hotel to visit. One afternoon they were driving along near the River Seine when Cynthia exclaimed, "Look, Arlene, there's a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty!" She pointed to a small island in the middle of the river.
"Yes, darling," Arlene replied. "Mr. Eiffel...."
"The man who designed the Eiffel Tower?"
"One and the same. He also designed the frame for the Statue of Liberty the French gave to the United States. They made that miniature as a monument to be kept in Paris. Quaint, isn't it?"
The two girls dined in sidewalk cafes, walked up and down the hill in Montmartre, visited art galleries and the famous designer stores for women's clothes. Arlene bought a street dress for two hundred and fifty dollars, and Cynthia wondered how she could afford such expensive clothes on her embassy salary.
"I can't darling," Arlene explained. "I'm constantly in debt, but I do love clothes. My father left me a small estate, and that gives me a small income. I guess like most Americans I live from paycheck to paycheck."
Cynthia splurged and bought a very expensive cocktail dress, remarking that she wanted something beautiful to remember Paris visit by.
"I have it!" Arlene exclaimed, on their fourth day together.
"What?" Cynthia answered.
"How would you like to see Paris night life? I mean the real Paris night life, not the Lido and all those tourist traps. We'll go where all the Parisians go, and then we'll take in the Bohemian spots where the artists and musicians hang out."
"I think I should warn you, Arlene," Cynthia said, "I'm not much of a drinker or high-liver. I'd love it, but maybe I'd be a drag on you."
"Nonsense," she laughed. "We'll have a wonderful time together and you'll get a chance to see the Paris only the natives see. I'll pick you up at seven-I know a marvelous little spot for dinner. You'll love it!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Arlene waved brightly to the concierge as the two girls walked a little unsteadily down the hall and turned to enter the lift. Their arms were linked and they both were laughing.
"This antique conveyance will carry us skyward so that you can see how an American in Paris really lives," Arlene giggled, pushing the button so that the lift started with a jerk.
The sudden start threw Cynthia off balance and she had to lean against the iron railing to keep from falling. She had never had so much fun in her life, but the effects of the champagne were beginning to wear off. She felt a little giddy, but she was also experiencing the first dull throbs of what she knew would be a terrible headache. She smiled to herself knowing that Arlene would surely have some aspirin and that she would be able to catch it in time. The lift came to a halt with the same sudden jerk that heralded the beginning of their journey, and Cynthia again had to catch hold of the railing to keep from falling. The two girls looked at each other and giggled.
Arlene led the way down a dark corridor and fumbled in her purse for her key. She pushed the door open and reached around the frame searching for the light switch. A loud click and the room was flooded with soft, indirect lighting.
"Oooohhh!" Cynthia exclaimed, her eyes dancing over the warmly furnished living room. "How divine! It's so European, so warm!"
"When in Paris, darling," Arlene responded, allowing her sentence to hang in mid-air.
A large Oriental rug with shades of lime, burgundy and gray woven in the "tree of life" design was surrounded on one side by an eighteenth century love seat covered in a deep green silk, and on the other by a grouping of three antique chairs covered in a striking red damask. Heavy drapes of a lime green print covered one entire wall behind the grouping, giving the impression they opened on a ' panoramic view.
"Oh," Cynthia exclaimed, "I'm dying to see your view!"
"Go ahead, but you'll be disappointed. That ; window looks out on the brick wall of the building next door. I'm only on the second floor, darling, but I keep those drapes pulled to help me pretend I have a view."
"Arlene, do you have some aspirin? I have the makings of a splitting headache."
"In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom," Arlene replied, waving Cynthia to a door at the other side of the living room. "You go ahead and I'll fix us some good hot tea."
Going down the narrow hall, Cynthia stopped for a moment to look at Arlene's bedroom. The large canopy bed fascinated her. It dominated the room with soft Afghan rugs on either side, and the spread was made of the same gay print material as the canopy. A petite dressing table with a large mirror was placed in one comer, and a large, antique chest of drawers sat on the wall directly opposite the end of the bed.
Arlene certainly had excellent taste, Cynthia mused to herself as her eyes caressed the warm, cozy room. Cynthia couldn't get over her good fortune in having met Arlene. The past few days had been like an entirely new life for her. For the first time, Cynthia felt she had a friend she could depend on, someone she could lean on, someone she enjoyed being with. And the fun they had had that night! She had seen the Paris few tourists ever saw; the exciting, gay life she had read so much about.
She opened the door to the linen closet, laughed at herself, and closed it to walk a few steps down the hall. Flipping on the light in the bathroom, she walked to the large mirror over the basin and looked at herself. She couldn't help smiling. Her soft blonde hair was tousled and needed brushing. Cynthia reached for her purse, then said, "To hell with it!" under her breath.
"Did you find it?" came Arlene's voice from the other room.
"Yes," Cynthia replied, as she opened the medicine cabinet and saw the familiar bottle of aspirin.
Taking three of the white tablets from the bottle, she filled a glass with water and washed them down. As she was putting the glass back, Cynthia glanced in the mirror and saw Arlene come up behind her. Then she felt Arlene's hands slide onto her hips and she saw a suggestive smile cross the brunette's lips. Cynthia tried to pull away, but Arlene pressed closer, a hungry laugh gurgling in her throat. She held Cynthia tight as she tried to move.
Her hands had remained on Cynthia's hips and she was standing very close to her, her body almost touching Cynthia's. "Oh, come on!" she whispered drunkenly. "Don't pretend you haven't been making eyes at me all evening." Arlene leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Cynthia felt her firm breasts pressing into her own, felt the animal heat of Arlene's body as she thrust herself insolently against her.
Cynthia raised her hands and gripped Arlene's shoulders, easing her away, feeling her breath becoming uneven and fierce, despite her efforts to control it. Arlene moved her hands quickly around Cynthia's waist and interlaced her fingers, cuddling her into a tight, firm embrace.
Cynthia started to push at Arlene's shoulder in earnest now, but Arlene clung to her and rubbed her breasts and thighs in cat-like movements against Cynthia's body. Beneath the sheath-like gown, her ripe bosom and the firm, taut skin of her belly pressed meaningfully into Cynthia's flesh. Cynthia could feel herself growing more and more aware of Arlene's voluptuous sexuality.
"Please! Stop it, Arlene, you mustn't!" But Cynthia could already hear the breathy excitement in her voice and knew that Arlene had noticed it too. Her efforts to thrust the girl away were growing weaker every moment.
"Don't I?" Arlene smiled directly into her face, those beautiful mischievous gray eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "I know exactly what I'm doing," she whispered, "and so do you!"
She appeared to have sobered completely, Cynthia realized. Her words were no longer slurred and indistinct, her eyes had lost that glazed, drunken expression. They held Cynthia in an almost hypnotic stare, challenging and provocative.
Cynthia stopped struggling. "That's better," Arlene murmured. "Now, tell me you don't like to feel me so close to you." There was a long pregnant pause during which Cynthia felt her cheeks going red and her will power slowly evaporating.
"Say it," Arlene insisted softly. "Tell me you don't want my body against yours!"
Cynthia looked at the moist red lips, at Arlene's slightly open mouth, the white, even teeth, the softness of her neck. Arlene had stopped rubbing herself into Cynthia's body, but she could feel those large, thrusting breasts pressing against her own.
She started to take her hand away from Arlene's shoulders, but, without Cynthia realizing what was happening, the movement turned into a caress and she found that she was slipping the girl's dress straps down over her arms, her fingers pressing into the wonderfully soft skin and stroking the smooth, firm flesh. Slowly, so very, very slowly, Cynthia brought her hands down the girl's shoulders until the straps fell to Arlene's elbows.
"That's better!" Arlene gently disengaged her hands from Cynthia's waist and pulled the dangling straps over her wrists. During the slow, sensuous semi-strip, Arlene's firm, straining breasts had spilled into view and now Cynthia could see the red semi-circles of Arlene's nipples sticking impudently out of her much lowered neckline.
Arlene moved back a step and slowly revolved. "Unzip me, darling, I can't quite reach...."
Cynthia took the zipper between her finger and thumb. She felt numb and dazed, in a state of incredulous, dream-like suspension. As she drew the zipper slowly down Arlene's back and saw that the girl wasn't wearing a brassiere, her eyes grew suddenly misty and heated, and the expanse of white flesh which she was revealing seemed to blur and melt into a lascivious, fluffy blanket.
She lowered the zipper until Arlene's dress fell away from her back, revealing the girl's white bikini pants. Keeping her feet planted firmly on the floor, Arlene shook her body until the garment was shrugged to an untidy heap around her ankles. Then she stepped delicately out of the silky folds, stretching her body teasingly.
Breathlessly, Cynthia feasted her eyes on the glamorous sight of the girl's stockinged legs, slowly letting her eyes travel up Arlene's thighs. The taut garter belt pulled the sheer stockings tightly over Arlene's thigh tops, drawing them up so that only a thin stretch of bare skin glistened between Arlene's panties and the tops of her stockings.
The curve of Arlene's rounded buttocks, thrusting out of the flimsy and scanty briefs, excited her tremendously and Cynthia recalled suddenly and vividly the lingerie photographs which had always attracted her attention in the glossy magazines.
She watched as Arlene began to turn around to face her once more. The girl was moving with a deliberate, provocative slowness. Her headache had magically disappeared, and Cynthia knew that the cure had been accomplished more by the traumatic release of her nervous tension rather than by the aspirin.
And then Arlene was standing in front of her. Cynthia let slip the pretense of shocked surprise and openly feasted her eyes on Arlene's charms. Her eyes inched slowly and steadily over the exciting, practically naked body, beginning at Arlene's trim ankles and moving upward. She gazed upon the tight "V" swelling around the crotch of Arlene's panties, the white silk cutting deeply between her legs.
Arlene's hips were gorgeously round and firm, making her waist appear even smaller and more narrow than it really was. Cynthia's eyes wandered higher, and came to rest on Arlene's high, firm breasts.
So that Cynthia could admire them at their most sexy and flattering position, Arlene raised her arms and let her hands sweep her hair back on top of her head, causing her breasts to lift and be even more pointed. They were really beautiful, Cynthia thought, her eyes studying them greedily, hoping that Arlene wouldn't spoil the moment by speaking or moving. However, Arlene seemed perfectly content to stand still, hands raised and buried in her rich growth of hair, while Cynthia literally gloated on the feminine riches of her body.
For several minutes the girls remained in this position. Cynthia scarcely dared to breathe for fear that she would break the spell. Then Arlene began to sensuously close the gap between them and Cynthia heard rather than felt the zipper give way on her own dress, and then she felt it slide down her legs to a heap on the floor. She felt Arlene's fingers tugging at the hooks on her bra and her own luscious breasts fell into view. She stood before Arlene clad only in her panties and stockings.
Cynthia ran her tongue over her lips nervously, wondering what the next move would be. But Arlene stepped back to admire Cynthia's beautiful breasts, then suddenly put her arms possessively around Cynthia's waist. Her fingers pressed into the soft flesh just above her buttocks, and Cynthia quivered, both in fear and expectation.
"That's much better," Arlene whispered. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Isn't it, Cynthia."
"Yes...." Cynthia heard herself saying. The sharp metal clips of Arlene's garter belt were digging into her thigh and she could feel the girl's loins thrusting into her own pubic mound. But even more thrilling than these points of contact was the highly erotic touching of their breasts. She glanced down quickly between their bodies. Arlene's high, pointed breasts were sticking into her own huge breasts which seemed even larger than usual.
Their nipples had stiffened tremendously, the four red buttons growing longer and thicker as they rubbed sweetly together.
Cynthia closed her eyes, her senses beginning to swim, and rested her face against Arlene's. Softly, the girl was stealing her hands beneath the ridge of Cynthia's panties. They drew the tight elastic up and she felt her bottom being gently massaged by Arlene's soothing probing fingers.
Almost at once she felt a sharp desire to do the same thing, to fondle and rub the intimate flesh of the other girl's buttocks. The urge was too strong for her to resist, but, she thought with a smile, why should I resist it? Everything's completely out in the open now. Why shouldn't I do whatever I like with her? She's practically asked me to!
Cynthia followed Arlene's lead, flattening her hands against the brunette's spine and slowly lowering them until her fingers slipped beneath the tight band of the girl's bikini briefs. She sucked in her breath as the incredibly hard, firm mounds of her buttocks came into electrifying contact with her fingers. She rubbed them firmly, her hands moving eagerly over the rich globes, at last giving full vent to her concealed desires.
Subtly, Arlene began to writhe herself once more against Cynthia, grinding her hips in an easy, slow motion action so that her loins rubbed into her partner's. Scarcely aware of it at first, Cynthia was not quite sure what she should do. She then felt Arlene's buttocks tensing and untensing beneath her finders. The warm, yielding cheeks clenching as the girl increased the intensity of her rubbing.
Tentatively, Cynthia imitated her. She urged her own loins forward, feeling an intense welling deep up in her vagina as the sheer intimacy of what they were doing came home to her.
Holding each others buttocks, cupping a fleshy cheek in each hand, the girls writhed tightly together. Their bodies touched at every possible point, from their faces, down to their breasts and tummies, and further downward to their stockinged thighs, they clung as closely as they could.
Until suddenly. Arlene whispered, "Let's go into the bedroom, darling, and get more comfortable."
Cynthia took one hand out of Arlene's panties and kept the other resting firmly on the girl's right buttock. Arlene followed suit, and they moved slowly out of the bathroom and into the darkened bedroom, feeling the gentle, rhythmical wobbling of each others bottom as they walked.
Arlene released her grip, on Cynthia's tail and said, "I'll close the windows and the drapes." When she returned from the windows, Cynthia was standing where she had left her. Arlene guided her to the bed and stretched her out full length, her arms at her side. The glow from the one light gave Cynthia's body a compelling fiery sheen.
As Arlene moved toward her place on the bed, the light shone on her body. She resembled some kind of satanic she-devil or more like a high-priestess with her long brown hair hanging against her shoulders.
Arlene wiggled across the bed until her hand was on Cynthia's waist. Then her fingers moved slowly upward until they reached the soft white breasts.
Cynthia watched in fascination as Arlene's fingers began touching the smooth resilient surface. She began to tickle the breast with a soft, tentative stroking of her thumb. She kept the finger beneath Cynthia's nipple and drew it slowly up and down, constantly keeping the rising bud in maddening contact with her thumb. Cynthia squirmed despite herself. The caress was making her feel hot and feverish, not only in the region of her breast, but all the way down her body.
Arlene moved a little closer to the girl, until her parted legs were clamped securely around Cynthia's thigh. Her forefinger joined her thumb in fondling the girl's nipple; and, together, they began to squeeze and tease at the tiny bud, pinching it firmly, then easing the pressure, then increasing it again. The palm of her hand moved pleasantly on the ripe mound of soft, pliable flesh, rolling the breast from side to side.
The metal of Arlene's garter belt was pressing almost painfully into Cynthia's loins. Its raised steel clasp seemed to be caressing its wav between the lips of her cunt, pushing through the thin silk of her panties and working insolently against her clitoris.
Cynthia could feel herself growing intensely excited by this unusual and stimulating pressure. She shifted her position so that she could bear down even harder on the metal clasp, beginning to rub her moist, pulsating slit up and down on it.
This brought her face close to Arlene s breast.
Cynthia, through hot and eager eyes, saw the other girl's nipple only a brief space from her mouth. She looked into Arlene's face, and saw her nod slowly and deliberately.
"Kiss it, darling!" she urged, and the fierce yearning in Arlene's voice made Cynthia feel weak with passion and desire. "Suck it! Suck my tit!" she moaned. "Oh, Cynthia, please! Pet it. Bite it. Do anything you want!"
Immediately, Cynthia sank her lips into the fullness of Arlene's breast. The warm flesh felt even softer against her mouth than it had looked. She quickly grasped her hand onto the globe, holding it steady while she sucked as much of the satin-smooth tit between her lips as possible.
When she had her mouth completely full of Arlene's throbbing breasts, Cynthia started to suck on it. The firm and supple skin was quickly moistened by her saliva, her lips working in a frantic greedy sucking action on the proud and pink-tipped nipple.
Cynthia's other hand searched for the other girl's far breast, and as it came within reach she began to rub and tease the nipple. After she had mouthed and sucked deeply on the breast buried between her lips for several long minutes, Cynthia let the gorgeous flesh escape. It slipped reluctantly from her ovaled mouth, a tiny bit at a time.
But before the swelling red tit could steal completely from between her teeth, she quickly clamped them shut around it, biting angrily into the tiny hard bud and holding it tightly. Then, she curled her tongue up and began to dart its tip over the imprisoned nipple, licking at the stiff and tender morsel until Arlene was writhing back against the bed in ecstatic delight, her thighs twitching by Cynthia's legs.
As if she were trying to revenge herself on the girl who was tormenting her without mercy, Arlene suddenly thrust her hand up between Cynthia's open thighs and started to rub her fingers urgently up and down the moist fleshy folds of the girl's cunt lips, the wet silk crotch band barring the way.
Cynthia's first, instinctive reaction was to close her legs against this intimate and outrageous treatment. Then she smiled, despite her excitement; she remembered that they had abandoned both their moral scruples and their inhibitions and for the first time Cynthia felt like a woman.
Implicitly both girls had agreed that their bodies were now each other's mutual property and could be handled as boldly and as intimately as their partner wished.
She shuddered with a sudden trembling ecstasy as she realized what this meant. Every inch of Arlene's body, every single part of the girl's most private parts and secret regions were now hers to treat as the mood and the inspiration took her.
And Arlene had the right to do exactly as she pleased with her body!
CHAPTER SIX
It no longer seemed wrong to Cynthia that she should desire the charms of another girl. How could it be wrong or perverted, she thought dreamily, as her fingers played daintily at one of Arlene's nipples, her teeth nibbling sweetly at the other. How could so blissful and wonderful an experience be sinful or evil?
She gave the friendly, warm little breast a loving pinch, and felt Arlene work an exploring finger beneath the elastic of her panties by way of a reply. The girl quickly found the deep, wet slit of Cynthia's cunt and began slowly teasing the tip of her forefinger into it.
Carefully, making sure that she took the longest possible time over the insertion, she pried the lips gently apart, then rubbed her knuckles in a preliminary caress up and down the naked open wound.
Her thighs began to twitch with a life all their own. For the very first time, Cynthia felt another girl's fingers fondling her between her legs. She sucked harder on Arlene's nipple, breathlessly awaiting the moment when those slender female fingers would actually push their way remorselessly up inside her.
Arlene, however, evidently intended to work her up to a fever pitch of desire before bringing her relief. The girl had found the ripe button of Cynthia's clitoris; nipping it lightly between her forefinger and thumb, she began to toy idly with the hardened, pink protuberance.
Cynthia began to moan, the sounds muffled by Arlene's breast. Hoping to speed the penetration, she reluctantly left the girl's breast and stroked her hand down the body until her fingers could feel Arlene's panties resting silkily beneath them.
Cynthia wriggled them under the tight waistband, pushing further downward over Arlene's flat belly. Her hand shook with excitement as they touched the soft, resilient hair of her pubic mound. Her fingers fondled a path through them and alighted upon the warm, wet opening to her vaginal slit.
The soft, yielding lips which opened up like the petals of a rare, exquisite flower, made an effective contrast to the hardness of Arlene's mons veneris. The thick pubis had felt so firm and muscular beneath her fingers, Cynthia mused, as if it were capable of penetrating her cunt and fucking her with the satisfaction that no man could bring!
She gasped, almost losing her hold on Arlene's nipple as the bizarre thought struck her. While her fingers slotted themselves into Arlene's wide-lipped cunt, Cynthia worked her thumb upward until it was able to caress the hard pubic mound again.
Yes! Her fevered imagination had little difficulty in transforming the girl's particularly firm pubic mound into a reasonable approximation of a male organ. She petted it with her thumb, rubbing with harder and harder strokes, half expecting it to rise up away from Arlene's body and assume the shape of a penis.
But she was unable to dwell for very long on this exciting fantasy, for her fingers had now slipped wetly up into Arlene's cunt and she felt, with a momentary shock, the thick, slippery juices seeping strongly from the girl's vagina.
Almost simultaneously, Cynthia realized that her own loins were becoming wet with the fluids of her forbidden excitement. Arlene had been busily manipulating her clitoris to such an extent that she had, almost without knowing it, anointed the girl's fingers heavily with her moist secretions.
Cynthia squeezed her middle forefingers tightly together and pushed them slowly but firmly into Arlene's warm, smooth orifice, making them tremble and shake so that the girl had the added enjoyment of an in and out motion even while Cynthia was still sliding them inside her.
She was rewarded by feeling Arlene's fingers at long last slip hastily into her own cunt, and the relief and intense pleasure this gave her made Cynthia want to smother the girl with kisses!
And why not? she suddenly thought. Why shouldn't I? Somehow, the mere act of putting her mouth on Arlene's and letting their lips meet in a long, moist kiss shocked Cynthia more than the far more intimate caresses they were alt present giving to each other. It was, she found, almost impossible to express her feelings about it. Somehow, she couldn't understand why kissing was a more unnatural practice than the most warm, voluptuous fondling, and Arlene was clearly expecting them to kiss each other. Arlene brought her free hand up to Cynthia's face and stroked her cheek gently.
"Let's kiss properly," she whispered, cradling Cynthia's face in the palm, the fingers moving up to caress the woman's ear lobe. "Give me your mouth, darling."
Cynthia allowed Arlene to draw their faces very close together. She trembled and felt herself stiffening as the girl pursed her warm, aching lips and brought them slowly into contact with hers. Her tongue stole out, intending to pass briefly over her lips-they were dry and parched-but Arlene quickly put out her tongue and ran it swiftly across Cynthia's.
The wet, pulsing meeting of the tongues electrified her. She withdrew from Arlene sharply, trying to twist her mouth away from the girl's searching lips.
Arlene held her chin firmly, forcing her to look into her eyes.
"Kiss me!" she demanded fiercely. "Cynthia, you're going to kiss me!"
Her lips quivering, Cynthia pleaded silently with her to excuse her from this ordeal. She begged her mutely not to insist.
But Arlene, moving her fingers in a steady, throbbing rhythm inside Cynthia's eager, pulsating cunt, slipped her hand suddenly around her neck and pulled the resisting mouth against her own. With parted lips, she kissed Cynthia urgently and passionately, sucking, then rubbing her mouth on Cynthia's until, with a sob, she surrendered and began to return the kiss ardently.
Their hungry lips worked fervently together, pushing and straining until Arlene once more brought her tongue in contact with Cynthia's. She thrust it almost between her teeth, forcing it into Cynthia's mouth and then running it with slow, deliberate possessiveness around her teeth and throat.
Tentatively, Cynthia licked at the underside of Arlene's tongue. The wet, ultra-sensitive organ provoked a violent, throbbing reaction from her. Again, she felt that tremendous shock, as if she had darted her tongue against a live wire, but this time the sensation thrilled rather than terrified her. She was conscious of being immensely daring, unbelievably bold.
Cynthia repeated the action, and kept her tongue in position beneath Arlene's.
"Mmmm!" Arlene mumbled. Her tongue started to move faster around Cynthia's mouth, tapping at the roof, licking experimentally around the inside cheeks.
At the same time, she pushed her fingers even more deeply up the tight, pulsating opening of Cynthia's cunt and started something which made her shudder with pleasure. It took her some minutes to realize that Arlene was using her fingernails, scratching firmly, insistently at the tender, vulnerable upper wall of her vagina. Then, a white, hot, searing pain exploded behind her eyes, she tore her mouth away from Arlene, a sharp cry of agony coming from her lips. Arlene hugged her with her free hand and whispered, "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry! Oh, Cynthia, I didn't mean to hurt you so much, darling. What can I say? What can I do, my precious?"
Blinking away the hot tears which were streaming down her face, Cynthia suddenly realized that Arlene had done it on purpose. She had deliberately and savagely cut deeply into the aching rawness of her tender vagina with her long, sharp fingernails.
A second later, she also realized why Arlene had done it.
"Quickly, darling," Arlene crooned, "let me put my tongue inside you. I'll soothe it for you, I promise! There, there! It must feel so sore, my sweet, but I'll make all the hurt go away, darling, honestly."
Babbling to Cynthia as if she were a child, Arlene gently withdrew her fingers from her vagina, and talking all the while, repositioned herself so that she was kneeling between Cynthia's aching thighs.
The pain had subsided by now, but Cynthia was far too excited by the tongue-caressing she was about to receive, to tell her that she needn't bother. The prospect of having her cunt kissed and licked by this wonderful friend was worth a few moments of agony she had suffered, and Cynthia had never before been subjected to such a treatment. Just the thought of it was heavenly!
"Let's take these off first, shall we?" Arlene was whispering, even though it wasn't really a question for she was already pulling the thin silk panties from Cynthia's soft, rounded hips. "I can't reach all of you with your panties on, darling!"
She ducked her head quickly under Cynthia's legs, and the next moment Cynthia felt her thin briefs being pulled completely away from her loins. Arlene drew them down over her calves and feet and tossed them aside, then put her hands back on Cynthia's now quivering legs, caressing up the inside of her thighs.
Then, firmly, Arlene parted Cynthia's legs again, resting them over her crouching shoulders and brought her face close to Cynthia's completely naked and throbbing cunt.
Cynthia felt intensely embarrassed by the minute and detailed scrutinizing which Arlene was giving her open vagina. She wondered, almost with a stab of jealousy, how many other girls Arlene had inspected so intimately.
Knowing that Arlene's face was pushed right up close to the warm, pulsating lips, she blushed with shame. To be so utterly immodest and open her legs to be ravished by another girl! She swallowed, her desire suddenly freezing as the sheer impact of what she was doing overcame her!
But, almost as quickly as they had come, her feelings of guilt and dismay vanished because Cynthia was suddenly seized by a hot and exquisite thrill which surpassed any she had previously known.
Arlene's tongue had licked dart-like up the entire length of her wet, moist slit, pushing persistently between the soft, hair-lined lips and slowly rubbing its velvet tip to the gently pulsating mouth of her vagina. So far, the girl's lips had not touched her. Arlene had thrust her tongue out as far as it would stretch, knowing that Cynthia would be far more excited by the caress of her tongue alone than by her lips-at least at this stage, anyway.
But eventually, after a succession of slow and methodical probes, she decided to give Cynthia the full benefit of her mouth and lips.
Cynthia felt Arlene's firm, soft fingers on the sensitive lips of her vagina, her tongue peeling them gently apart, pinching the swollen flesh softly and opening her cunt to its widest capacity. Then, she blew sweetly into the opening, sending a steady stream of warm air into Cynthia's warm, throbbing interior.
Peering down at her seducer, Cynthia saw that Arlene's head was moving up and down. She felt the other girl's lips pursing tightly, then a tremendous jolt of pleasure flooded her body as her cunt was sucked in one long sensuous breath deep into Arlene's mouth. The feeling was so intense that Cynthia was convinced Arlene had drawn the whole of her loins inside out.
Again and again she sucked, and with every intake of Arlene's breath, Cynthia was transported higher and higher into a state of sheer, ecstatic bliss!
She realized dimly that Arlene was also fondling her buttocks, the long tapered fingers caressing the naked cheeks and occasionally stroking into the warm, moist divide. She could scarcely feel any sensation here or anywhere else in her body, for all she knew, she might be lying on a bed of nails. All that mattered, all that she was aware of, was the incredible wave of pleasure emanating from the deep, hot pulsing orifice between her thighs.
She raised her buttocks from the cushions, lifting her wide open vagina more intensely up into Arlene's bobbing face. And Arlene supported her, cupping her flaccid white globes under her fingers while she licked and sucked with ever faster desperation between her legs.
Arlene, though she had appeared quite sober during their sudden and very abandoned intimacies, was, in fact, still in a state of inebriation. She knew what she was doing, but the amount of alcohol she consumed during the evening had completely numbed her inhibitions. She felt totally amoral, wonderfully free from any kind of restraint.
She was giving her voluptuous, sensual partner such pleasure! Cynthia was making strange gurgling noises of deeply aroused lust, writhing her hot, moist loins wildly in thrilling abandonment.
She never knew it could be like this! Never in her wildest imagination had it been like this! Cynthia felt so utterly free, so limitless in her capacity for sexual pleasure. She knew that there was a limit; knew that she would soon reach a certain point where the feeling of ecstasy would explode in a final, throbbing, frantic orgasm, but Arlene was delaying that inevitable moment so beautifully, so cleverly.
The joy she was experiencing threatened to overwhelm her completely. With every inward suck of Arlene's lips, she was lifted higher and higher toward a state of impossible, unattainable bliss.
"Why couldn't I feel this with a man?" she asked herself, and then abandoned herself to complete, almost impossible pleasure.
It's too much, too much! she wanted to cry, but her excitement grew more and more intense, shattering all her concepts of sexual fulfillment.
It was almost without her consent that, ultimately, Cynthia reached the zenith of her lust and began to flood Arlene's mouth with the wet, sweet and pungent fluid of her fruits of love.
Cynthia's cunt pulsed wildly against Arlene's mouth, her clitoris jerking and seething with excitement; Arlene kept her lips working rhythmically with Cynthia's wild untamed spasms of bliss until she was certain she had passed her climax.
Relaxing slightly, she gave the inflamed, lavishly wet and still throbbing slit a final kiss and then, stretching her warm, soft, resilient body out along side Cynthia on the bed, she cuddled the still panting woman like a protective mother.
Cynthia snuggled warmly up to her, her hands stealing around Arlene's waist, and in a matter of seconds had fallen into a deep contented sleep.
Then, and only then, did the almost inaudible click, click of the camera cease to sound.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Marvelous!" exclaimed Rene, looking at the large glossy photos one by one. "You're nothing less than fantastic, Arlene!"
Next to money, Arlene loved praise best. She leaned back in the overstuffed chair in Rent's apartment and lighted a cigarette. That morning she had stood impatiently outside the door to Claude's improvised darkroom waiting for him to develop, process and enlarge the. photos he had made of Cynthia and her the night before. As soon as they were ready and dry, she brought them straight to Rene. She watched his face as he examined each photo, smiling as she saw him begin to react erotically to what he saw in the photos.
"Christ," he muttered, "these are almost too good to be true!"
The photo in his hands showed Cynthia spread eagled on the bed, her white thighs straining and her knees slightly raised. Her golden blonde hair was spread out on the pillow and her lips were pursed in an expression of animal desire. Arlene's raven black hair spilled over Cynthia's creamy white thighs as her hand dipped into the golden pubic mound. The high-speed camera had caught Arlene's tongue fully extended and in the process of licking Cynthia's clitoris.
"How'd that blonde cunt taste?" Rene said. "It looks like you really swabbed her out!"
"Delicious, darling, simply delicious!" Arlene answered. "It had what you might call an expensive taste."
Rene laughed. He flipped to the next photo which portrayed the two girls locked in a soixante neuf embrace. Arlene was sitting on Cynthia's face and Rene could see her tongue dipping deep into Arlene's deep red cunt. He felt a stirring in his loins, his balls throbbing slightly, and his prick pressing against the material of his mohair slacks.
"It looks like she swabbed your cunt out, too!" he remarked.
"She did, darling, and with real enthusiasm. I really enjoyed it. I haven't had my cunt licked like that in quite some time!"
Arlene looked at Rene's crotch and could see the bulge growing under his slacks. In over a year of working for him, she had never known him to become stimulated like this. She had always wondered what Rene would be like in bed, and it bothered her that he had never made any overtures to her.
The last photo was the most graphic of all. Rene's breath drew in as he looked at the enlarged close-up of Arlene's crotch. He could almost count the shiny black pubic hairs. Cynthia's face was clearly defined in profile against Arlene's olive-tinted thigh. Her long, tapering fingers tipped in bright red were holding the lips of Arlene's cunt open wide, the firm folds of flesh strained against her probing fingertips. The dark pink slit graduated to a deep red at Arlene's cuntal opening, and Cynthia's bright red lips were parted wide, her white teeth gleaming in contrast, while her soft pink tongue lapped Arlene's erect clitoris.
"Jesus!" muttered Rene, the ache in his groin growing more demanding. "Claude's new color technique is almost art. You might call this 'a study in red.."
Arlene's eyes were fastened on the growing bulge in Rene's pants. It fascinated her. She could see his cock plainly outlined against his leg in his skintight slacks, and it hung half-way to his knee. There was a moist itch between her legs as Arlene remembered the ecstasy of Cynthia's tongue sinking deep into her cunt. This, combined with the magnificent instrument growing before her eyes, placed Arlene in a semi-trance.
Rene lifted his eyes from the photo for a moment and saw Arlene squirming in her chair with her mouth opened in a wide "O". He felt his cock strain against his pants when he saw her gaze glued to his crotch. Rene had never believed in mixing business with pleasure, but the ache in his balls could only be satisfied by the striking brunette sitting across from him.
As he watched, Arlene stood up and moved to ward him. When she reached him, she slowly dropped to her knees on the floor before him. Her skillful hands went immediately to the zipper on his slacks. She located it and pulled it down. Searching for a moment for the opening to his shorts, she used both hands inside his pants. He felt her warm fingers firmly grasp the shaft of his cock and begin pulling it out of his pants. Free of all restriction, it sprung straight out in front of him, the skin pulling back from the blue-tinted head. Arlene grasped the shaft firmly in one hand while she reached inside his pants and cupped his balls in her other.
He looked down at her gorgeous black hair framing her light-olive face. Her eyes were glassy, as if she was hypnotized by his swollen member in front of her. He saw her tongue run the width of her mouth, leaving her ruby red lips moist and gleaming. Slowly, Arlene's head moved forward, her hand firmly gripping his inflated cock and pulling it slightly forward. He saw her tongue dart out of her mouth and then he felt its warm moistness run along the huge shaft of his cock. She kissed the pubic hair at the base and then ran her tongue along the entire shaft, up one side and down the other.
When she had it wet from tip to base, Arlene ran her lips along the sides, caressing the swollen blue veins and leaving lipstick in long trails. She squeezed his balls, massaging them gently in her cupped hand. Then she pulled the skin back away from the head of his cock as far as it would go, the deep red ridge below the head glistening before her hungry eyes. With her tongue flattened out, she ran it completely around the ridge, licking it like a child would an ice cream cone.
Rene felt his passion building. He'd had many girls suck his cock before, but never like this! Arlene made an art of it, and she had him aching to shove it into her mouth and down her throat. And she was driving him crazy with her hand on his balls. She knew just exactly the right amount of pressure to excite him without hurting him. He felt her index finger begin creeping up the crevice between the cheeks of his ass. With the tip of her finger she located the small brown opening to his anus and she began massaging it while she let her tongue race over his cock.
Arlene was now concentrating on the head of his prick, her tongue pulling back and forth across the grainy surface in maddening strokes. The sweet, salty taste of his prick excited Arlene. Dropping her lower lip slightly, she slowly wrapped it around the bottom portion of the head of Rene's cock. Then she followed this with a gentle sucking movement of her tongue, pulling the head of his swollen prick between her lips. Very slowly, she sucked his cock into her mouth, pulling until his pubic hair ground against her lips and the head of his prick was pressing against the walls of her throat. She kept her mouth moist and ran her tongue over and around the hard prick, pulling and sucking relentlessly.
Rene's pulse quickened as he watched his thick cock slide between her ruby red lips. Her tongue was driving him wild, and he reached down and took hunks of her hair in each of his hands to hold her head. Then, moving slightly forward, he began moving his hips in and out, pumping his cock deep into her throat with each thrust.
Arlene now had her index finger sunk to the first joint in his asshole, and she urged his thrusting movements by shoving it farther up his narrow channel. When she felt his balls begin to throb, Arlene squeezed them harder and harder in an effort to make him fill her mouth with his hot cum.
Thoroughly aroused and stimulated, Rene had other ideas.
"I think you need something a little larger than Cynthia's tongue up that cunt!" he said, pulling her roughly to her feet.
Cupping his hand behind her head, Rene pulled Arlene's face to his. Their lips crushed and their tongues met, sawing against one another in a wet embrace. Arlene's hand never released its grip on his swollen cock, even when he jerked it from her mouth and pulled her to her feet. While he held her in a hard kiss, her hand pulled the skin on his cock back and forth rapidly, stroking him like a man milks a cow.
He reached behind her and pulled the zipper on her black silk dress down to the crest of her surging, pumping buttocks. Pulling the straps down from her shoulders, he forced the dress down her body. It hung on her hungry hand that still pumped his cock wildly, but she refused to give up her grip on his turgid member. With her free hand she undid his belt and began pulling his pants down.
Rene broke away from her and began peeling his clothes off quickly, letting his pants and shorts fall in a heap on the floor. He watched her gracefully begin to strip. She let her dress drop to her waist, then wiggled and pushed it down over her ample, firm hips. When it circled her feet on the floor, she stepped out of it and kicked her shoes to one side. She bent down so that he could see the curves of her breasts bulging in her bra. Taking the edges of her slip in her hands, she pulled it up over her hips and then over her head, flinging it on the chair with one graceful sweep of her arm.
She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, leaning forward to pull the straps over her shoulders. Free, her firm breasts flowed in motion with her body, the glistening hard nipples staring at Rene. She unsnapped her garter belt and slipped her fingers under the elastic band on her sheer black panties. Crooking her fingers and wiggling her hips slightly, she pulled her panties down to her knees and then gave her whole body a shake so that they fell in a heap around her trim ankles. Then, hands on her hips, she spread her legs two feet apart and stood looking straight at Rene.
The voluptuous body before him sent the blood racing through his veins. He stared at the gleaming black "V" where her legs met, and he could see the clear outline of the red slit of her cunt. She thrust her hips forward so he could see the lips part and the pink inner flesh beckon him. Then his eyes moved upward to her firm, molded breasts.
Arlene saw his gaze and reached out and cupped her firm breasts in her hands, squeezing them so that the hard nipples almost popped at him.
"Like?" she asked suggestively.
"That's quite a set of tits!" he responded, moving forward and tweaking the tips of her nipples with his thumb and forefinger. "It seems we should have gotten around to this a long time ago."
In answer, Arlene reached down and grasped his hard prick firmly in her hand and began pumping him slowly. Then she lowered her body to the floor once again and began kissing his cock. She planted countless little kisses along the shaft before she sucked the head of his cock between her lips and into her mouth.
Rene stood there watching her hungrily eat his prick for a few moments, passion racing through him. Then he slowly lowered himself to the floor beside her, turning his body so that his head fell against her flat belly. Roughly, he pulled her legs apart and began fondling her wet cunt with probing fingers. He pulled the firm lips of her hot cunt open wide and gazed at the exposed pink flesh before him. Her clitoris was hard and the hairy sides of her cunt were sopping wet with the juices of her passion. Leaning forward, Rene ran his long, slender tongue along the inside of the lips of Arlene's wet pussy, teasing her with light touches against her clitoris as he let his tongue make the complete oval again and again.
"Oooohhh!" she sighed, pulling his cock close to her moist lips again.
She squirmed, bringing his tongue directly in front of her gaping red cunt. Then, contracting her cuntal muscles, she quickly pulled his unsuspecting tongue deep inside her vagina.
"Aaahhh," she moaned. "That's it. Let me feel that tongue clear up to my throat. Lick my pussy! Lick it hard!"
Her breath coming quicker and her breasts heaving, Arlene slipped her mouth around Rent's cock and began pulling on it with all her strength. Forming her mouth into a large "O", she held his cock between her thumb and forefinger and ran her mouth up and down over the swollen head and purple-veined shaft. She heard him moan and she felt his balls throbbing against her chin. Arlene wanted him to flood her mouth with hot cum, she wanted to feel it bum her throat and then spill over and run down her chin. She had his tongue caught in her hungry, grasping cunt, and she fondled it like it was the prick she had in her mouth by expanding and contracting her cuntal muscles. Just as she felt herself coming to relief, he jerked his cock out of her mouth and climbed on top of her.
Arlene spread her legs and arched her hips, but Rene took her ankles in his hands and raised them high above his head. Then he bent them back so that they lowered to either side of her head. She was doubled up, her hot black cunt staring up at him like a hungry mouth to be fed.
"I want you to feel this one, baby," he said. "I'm going to sink this cock so deep you'll burp on it!"
Arlene reached down and took his surging cock in her hand. She guided it to her red slit and used it to rub against her clitoris, pulling it up and down between the lips of her cunt. Then she inserted the tip of his cock at the entrance of her vagina, and she felt the narrow channel expand to cover the swollen head and pull it inside her.
Rene reared back and lunged at her, sinking the shaft of his cock so deep in her belly his balls flapped and slapped against her ass.
"Aaaauuuggghhh!" she groaned, feeling the head of his hard prick bounce off her cervix.
He pulled back until just the very tip of his cock was in the red opening, and then he lunged forward as hard as he could, sinking it even deeper than before.
"Aaaauuughhh!" she groaned. "Deeper! Fuck me deeper!"
Continuing this same pattern, Rene tortured her with long hard thrusts that made her feel he was nailing her body to the floor with his steel prick. He pulled back and gave her a dozen short strokes that sunk his cock only an inch up her cunt, then lunged forward with his hard, deep thrust.
Arlene had turned into a wild animal, her head swaying back and forth on the floor, saliva dripping from the corners of her open mouth.
"Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me! Sink it all the way up my cunt and fuck me!"
Rene pushed her heels down against the floor and raised her crotch an inch higher in the air for his attack. He lunged hard and sunk his cock deeper than ever before, his balls falling into the crack of her ass and rubbing against her asshole. His hips became brutal battering rams against her
pelvis. Her jutting breasts pressed into his hairy chest as he pushed her harder into the carpet.
"Fuck me! Fuck me!" she shouted. "Aaaauuuggghhh! I'm comming. I'm comming!!! Harder, you bastard, harder! Ooohhh!"
Every muscle in her body went lax and melted into her explosive climax. Her arms flailed against his back. A loud "Whoosh" came from her rectum as every ounce of air was squeezed from her body, and then her hot cum flowed over Rene's prick, swirling out of her ravaged vagina to run down the cheeks of her ass and cover his hairy balls.
Arlene expected him to release his hold and let her up, and then she realized that he hadn't come yet. She felt him loosen his grip on her ankles and slide his hands up her calves. Then he began pushing her legs back further, arching her body even more and bringing her buttocks high in the air. He was in effect making a ball out of her, with her tail the highest point in the air. She felt his hard cock pull back and slide out of her wet cunt, and she suddenly knew what he was going to do.
"NO! Rene, no! Don't fuck my ass! I can't take that! NO!"
Rene disregarded her anxious pleas and stared down at the small brown puckered target directly before him. He dipped his cock in her cunt and withdrew it dripping with her juice. Then he aimed it at the quivering asshole before him and pressed the head of his cock hard against it. It resisted, allowing only the very tip to penetrate its firm ring. He again dipped his cock in her wet cunt and withdrew it, running the dripping head quickly to her puckered anus. This time he was less gentle, inserting the head and pressing hard until he felt it pop in as the elastic ring gave way to his onslaught.
"Owww!" Arlene groaned, as she felt the thick prick ram brutally into her rectum. "Don't Rene! Your cock is too big! I can't take it! Owww! Uuuuggghhh!"
Rene enjoyed hearing her scream as he inched his large cock up her small ass. He jerked his hips, throwing his weight on her buttocks and wedging his cock a little farther up her. She beat his face and arms with her hands and moved like a wild woman to escape him, but he held her impaled on his cock.
Then, tired of the game, he gave a mighty thrust with his hips and sank his cock all the way to its base.
"Aaaauuuggghhh! You bastard!" Arlene screamed, as she felt his prick rip its way up her. The pain shot through her body like fire and she felt the walls of her rectum tear as he began a rapid fucking motion with his heavy balls beating against her ass.
Rene looked down into her face and saw the tears welling in her eyes. This is one screwing she'll remember, he gloated to himself, as he increased the tempo of his strokes and dug his toenails into the carpet for added support. His prick was flying in and out of her tortured asshole, and Rene felt his excitement double as he watched the shaft racing through the tight brown circle that left tan streaks along the length of his ramming prick.
Arlene became almost hysterical, crying and
screaming as the pain engulfed her entire body. She beat against his back, ran her nails into his arms leaving little trails of blood running down his rippling muscles, and raked his back with her nails in a deep, three-tracked gash. Then she heard him groan and suddenly felt her rectum filled with hot cum. He flooded her and it began splashing all over her body as he used his cock like a plunger in her tortured ass.
His final spurt sent far up her ass with a mighty thrust, Rene released her legs and allowed his body to fall to one side. Arlene surveyed her bruised thighs covered with a pink mixture of Rent's cum and her own blood with horror.
"You dirty bastard!" she shrieked.
With a savage lunge Rene grabbed her long black hair and whipped her head around. He pulled her face down until her lips touched his wet, deflated prick.
"Now, clean that cock up with your tongue!" he commanded, giving her hair a vicious twist.
Arlene looked at the foul-smelling prick before her with disgust. It was wet and slimy and covered with a light brown coating of shit from her ass. She gagged and thought she would throw up, but she forced herself to extend her tongue and begin licking it. The mixture of blood, shit and semen had a strong, pungent flavor that bit Arlene's tongue as she licked it clean, but she managed to finish. Rena released his grip on her hair and pushed her aside roughly.
"Thanks loads!" she spit at him.
"The next time you pull a man's cock out of his pants," he replied with a chuckle, "you'd better be sure you know what he likes!"
Arlene crawled across the rug to the bathroom to repair her tom body. She poured a hot bath, soaking her sore anus by holding the cheeks of her buttocks apart and letting the steaming hot water swirl around inside her. Arlene was hurt physically, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had satisfied her sadistic employer and was that much more firmly entrenched in her job. The very thought of submitting to his sadistic desires again chilled Arlene, but she knew she would if he asked her to. There was nowhere else Arlene could make the money she made working for Rene.
When she had dressed and returned to the living room, she found Rene all business. He had obviously showered and changed to fresh clothes, and he had a large grin on his face.
"Well," he said, "it looks like we have Miss Cynthia Walters where we want her, doesn't it?"
"If those photos don't prove she's a Lesbian," Arlene replied, "nothing will."
"And what are your plans for Mr. Harry Edwards?"
"A lovely orgy in full color with Miss Cynthia Walters and yours truly." Arlene replied. "Then you can feed them both to the lions and pay me ten thousand lovely dollars."
"Think you can work it?" Rene asked.
"I haven't failed you yet, have I?"
"Think you could work in a Frenchman?" Rene asked.
Arlene noticed a pleading tone in his voice and she liked that. Someday she'd make the bastard pay for what he had just done to her, but not yet. Before giving in to his request, she wanted to have him beg a little.
"Who?" she asked.
"Jean LeGrande, a member of DeGaulle's new brain-trust," Rene replied. "He's trying to get the old man to back down his attack on the dollar, and that doesn't suit our purposes at all. I need something nice and juicy on him, and I understand he has a decided weakness for unusual sex."
"Just how unusual?"
"Nothing you can't handle, baby," Rene replied. "Will he be in on what I'm doing with Edwards or Cynthia?"
"No!" Rene responded quickly. "The less he knows the better! You play it by ear and cook up some story that you're breaking her in as a whore or something. Even tell him you're using a little blackmail if you want, but don't let him get any idea of what you're really up to. Just give him a good orgy and he'll buy anything."
Arlene was silent for a moment, pretending to think it over. She knew she would do whatever Rene wanted, but she felt good making him sweat a little.
"Well?" he asked.
"Okay, but I'll have to arrange it my own way and in my own time. Can you make arrangements with Madame Cunard for a very private room with a special show using one of her youngest girls?"
"Done. You say when."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two days and two nights without a word from Arlene! Cynthia was tom between a heaven and hell of her own making. The first day she spent sitting in a chair in front of the window, staring emptily at the dome of the basilica in Montmartre, waiting for Arlene to call, yet dreading having to face her. What would she think of her after what they did to each other?
More important yet, what did Cynthia think of herself? This is what tortured her mind all the first day. She was a Lesbian, a homosexual! Or was she? Did one night, one marvelous flight into sensual heaven make her a Lesbian? Cynthia argued with herself, taking first one side and then the other. Did she freeze up with men because she was a Lesbian? If so, what made her that way? Was someone born a homosexual? Of course not, she told herself. She'd read all about how people become homosexuals because of some psychological quirk in their personality. Did she have such a quirk?
She began pacing the small hotel room, wringing her hands and thoughtlessly pulling on a scarf she wore. Once, she flung her body on the bed and broke down and cried, her sobs falling on empty ears. "Why? WHY? WHY?" she screamed, beating her fists helplessly against the hard pillow.
Then she gained control of herself and sat by the window trying to reason her situation out. She'd seen the ambassador and the interview had been frightful! She stuttered and stammered during her brief summary of the Cuban economic situation, and when he asked her several questions she froze, unable to give him an intelligent answer even though she had all the facts in her head. It was only because he was so understanding and coaxed the information out of her, that Cynthia had been able to finish the interview.
Her first reaction after the interview was to pack her bags and take the first jet back to Washington, but then she thought of Arlene. Arlene had said she would call and Cynthia couldn't bring herself to leave Paris without seeing Arlene again. Was she in love with the striking brunette? Of course not, she told herself! She had found something with Arlene she had never known with another human being, but they lived in two different worlds, separated by a wide ocean. She could love Arlene, but she couldn't be in love with Arlene.
"Why is life so damned complicated?" she said aloud, resting her chin in her hand. She had come to Paris with the hope of finding a solution to her problems. Now she had a new problem, one that could change the entire course of her life. Cynthia knew that if she became a Lesbian she would have to resign immediately from her position at the state department. If word leaked out it would not only disgrace her, it would discredit her superiors and embarrass her country in the eyes of the world.
For a moment Cynthia's mind argued that all that was ridiculously unfair, but she quickly cast that aside with the thought that it was the way things were and she could do nothing to alter that.
The question is, she said to herself, am I really a homosexual? Cynthia thought back to that night of bliss with Arlene, how she had melted in Arlene's arms and climbed to heights previously unknown to her when Arlene's tongue slipped between the lips of her vagina. She remembered the sweet taste of Arlene's firm breast, the exciting, salty taste of her cunt.
A tingle ran through Cynthia's body. She felt the tips of her nipples pressing against her bra, and she moved in the chair to let her thighs rub together to ease the ache that suddenly shot through her groin. Accidentally, her arm brushed against her breast, and a warm glow ran through her. Her hand crept down to her lap and pressed against her pubic mound.
Cynthia stood up and pulled her skirt over her head. Dropping her blouse on the floor, she crossed the room and quickly put the night-latch on the door. Then, pulling her panties down and stepping out of them, Cynthia unsnapped her bra and let it drop to the floor. She stretched out on the bed and allowed her hands to roam her body. Cupping her breast in one hand, she caressed the now taut nipple with her other hand. She closed her eyes and imagined her fingers were Arlene's lips, pulling her nipple gently into her hot mouth.
Fingers extended, Cynthia's hand moved slowly across her flat belly and dipped into the soft, silky covering of her mound. Her index finger continued forward, parting the lips of her cunt and probing deep into the warm flesh. She made contact with her clitoris, gently playing it back and forth and pretending Arlene's head was between her thighs. She could see Arlene's dark eyes dancing with fire as her tongue dipped in and out of her cunt.
"Aaaaaahhhhh! she moaned, as her fingers took her to release.
Her body limp and her eyes staring at the ceiling, Cynthia was certain of one thing whatever she might be with others, she was a full lesbian with Arlene Richards!
On the second day she arose early and dressed to go out. Surely Arlene would call this morning, she assured herself. In a gay mood, she ordered ham and eggs from Room Service and devoured them almost the moment the boy left the room. Then, by eleven o'clock with no word from Arlene, she was again depressed and nervous.
"This is absurd," she said, crossing the room and taking her coat from the closet. "I can't spend my only days in Paris sitting in a hotel room." She started to pull her coat on, then put it back on a hanger in the closet. Cynthia couldn't chance missing Arlene's call, and she was certain Arlene would call.
At three in the afternoon, Cynthia called the embassy and asked for Arlene. The polite voice at the other end of the line advised her that Miss Richards was out and not expected back that afternoon. Cynthia hung up, more dejected than ever, at a complete loss to understand why Arlene hadn't called her.
By the time the sun set, Cynthia had made up her mind. She called the concierge and asked him to inquire about getting her space on the first jet to New York or Washington the next day. Her heart jumped when the phone rang a few minutes later. She raced across the room and breathlessly picked up the receiver. Her face fell when the concierge's voice announced that all flights to New York and Washington were booked for the next day. He told her the best he could do was get her space on a flight leaving at five in the afternoon of the following day.
"Yes, yes," she said into the phone, "that will be all right. Thank you for all your trouble."
She took a hot bath to relax her nerves and then stretched out on the bed. Cynthia had only slept in fits and spurts the night before, and she was exhausted. She was just drifting off into a troubled rest when the phone rang. She turned over and reached for the receiver.
"Arlene!" she almost shouted, sitting bolt upright on the bed when she heard the familiar voice at the other end of the line.
"Yes, darling," Arlene's soft voice came back.
"I'm sorry I haven't called you sooner, but I've had some pretty serious trouble."
"You're not hurt?" Cynthia asked anxiously. "You haven't been in a car accident, have you?"
"Nothing like that at all," Arlene said in a reassuring voice. "It's quite a long story. Do you have a minute, or were you about to go out?"
"Arlene," Cynthia said, a slight edge creeping into her voice, "you know I've been waiting for your call."
"I am sorry about that, darling. I truly am," Arlene said, "but, you see, I didn't want to bother or worry you unless I had to. You see, about a year ago I became involved in an affair with a man named Frank, a perfect bastard who works for one of the American wire services here in the Paris office."
"I don't see," Cynthia interrupted.
"You will, darling, just be patient," Arlene continued. "It only lasted a few months, but Frank thought he owned me body and soul. You know how some men are. Well, when I broke it off he was terribly jealous and upset. He said he had left his wife for me. Of course I didn't know he even had a wife; why any woman would marry that man is beyond me. Anyway, he kept threatening that he would get even with me for ruining his life...."
"Has he threatened you?" Cynthia asked.
"I'm getting to that, darling. It seems he had some insane idea I was in love with someone else and he somehow managed to bribe the concierge of my apartment house to let him rig up some sort of a camera affair in my bedroom. I suppose his idea was to catch me in bed with some man and take photos of us."
"How ghastly!" Cynthia said.
"Well, it's worse than that, darling. It's a disaster! He came to me yesterday morning with a handful of photos. They were all done in color and enlarged so there could be no mistake what was going on in my bed."
"Oh no! How could he!" Cynthia exclaimed. "And now I suppose he's blackmailing you and the other man."
"It wasn't a man, darling," Arlene said softly. "Who was it?"
"You and me, and we were doing all those marvelous things to each other."
There was a dead silence on the line.
"Cynthia? Cynthia, are you there?" Arlene asked anxiously.
"Yes, I'm here," her voice came back, obviously shaken.
"You see," said Arlene, "that's why I didn't want to worry you until I just had to."
"What does he want, Arlene?" Cynthia asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"It's not as bad as all that, darling," Arlene replied. "I've been talking to him for two days now and I can't really promise anything but I think maybe we can work it out. At first he was threatening to turn them over to his friends on the wire service and send copies to your boss and to the ambassador here."
"Oh, God!" Cynthia exclaimed, seeing the scandal something like that would cause.
"Right now I have him in a little more cooperative mood," Arlene's voice continued. "If we cooperate with him, do whatever he wants us to do, I think we can get the photos and the negatives and that will be the end of it. I'm afraid we'll have to put up with some brutish men for a few hours, but that will be better than losing our jobs and making headlines, won't it?"
"You mean," Cynthia stammered, horrified at the thought, "you mean go to bed with them?"
"I really don't know, darling, but it could come to that. I don't know about you, but I'd do almost anything to keep this between us. What happened to us was something beautiful, something I want to cherish, but I wouldn't want it dragged through the newspapers. Look at what they did to Walter Jenkins. Wasn't that just ghastly?"
Cynthia was silent. Her shoulders drooped and she could feel her stomach working its way up into her throat. Her whole life ruined! She'd never be able to face people again. She'd kill herself first. And her name in headlines around the world. God! All that for one night of happiness! How cruel could life be? She sobbed and Arlene heard the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line.
Arlene smiled. She knew she had Cynthia exactly where she wanted her. Now was the time to seal off all avenues of escape.
"Darling," she whispered.
"Yes," Cynthia replied, a catch noticeable in her voice.
"I know how awful this is for you, and believe me I wouldn't have gotten you into this mess for anything in the world. I feel just terrible about it. If he breaks this to his friends on the papers, we're both ruined. I've tried to handle him by myself without involving you. I've pleaded with him, offered to be his slave, anything, but he insists on both of us. I need your help Cynthia. I'm in debt and this will ruin me! You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't truly need your help. I know you feel the same way about me I feel about you, so I'm sure you'll help me because of what we have together. Won't you?"
"I want to kill myself, Arlene, just go out and kill myself," Cynthia sobbed.
"I know how you feel, darling," Arlene whispered, in a soothing tone. "I feel the same way. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course, Arlene," Cynthia answered in a contrite voice. "I'm sorry. I've been selfish, thinking only of myself and my own mixed-up life. I know this must be terrible for you."
"That's better, darling," Arlene said. "I knew you'd help me, and it will only be for a few hours. Anybody can live through a few hours! Now, remember, do anything they want. If we hesitate or seem like we're holding out, I'm sure Frank would be mean enough to make trouble for both of us."
"I'll try, Arlene, but I can't guarantee anything."
"Just try, darling, that will be enough. Be ready in about an hour. We'll pick you up at the hotel."
"Tonight?"
"Of course, silly, tonight. In about an hour." Cynthia held the phone to her ear moments after Arlene hung up, her mind unable to comprehend how all of this had happened to her.
CHAPTER NINE
"Go along with anything they want," rang through Cynthia's mind. It sounded so sinister, so ugly. She had tried to talk to Arlene ever since the three of them had picked her up, but with the two men present she was afraid to say anything that might compromise Arlene. God, she said to herself, how did I ever get into anything like this? And what is this special show Arlene seemed so mysterious about?
The car crossed the Seine and wound down by the Palais de Luxembourg. Cynthia saw that they were on the Boulevard St. Michel, but they soon turned off and began winding through narrow streets. Cynthia knew she was somewhere in the south part of Paris, in the Left Bank area, but that was the best she could do.
They drove through a large iron gate and down a short ramp to a small parking area beneath an old building. When the door opened and the dome light came on, Cynthia had her first real look at the two men in the front sea. She had to catch herself from crying out. The man in front of her was Harry Edwards! She'd have known his face anywhere! The short, pudgy features under his blond crew-cut hair and those eyes that always seemed to be darting everywhere except at the person he was talking to made Harry Edwards stand out in a crowd. Cynthia remembered what some of the girls at the office had told her about how crude he was, how he always made dirty remarks and tried to feel their breasts or tails. He was the laughing stock of the state department, but he had an ear in the White House so everyone treated him with respect.
Now Cynthia was certain she would lose her job. What was he doing here? Arlene must have realized Harry Edwards would know her-or would he? She'd never actually met him. And there were so many girls in the State Department, how would he remember her? Well, she said to herself, it was too late to worry about it now.
Cynthia didn't recognize the other man, the one introduced as Jean. He was tall, quite handsome in a rugged manner, and obviously French. He spoke very little, but Cynthia heard distinct traces of a light French accent in his voice.
They went through a dark doorway and down a short corridor into a large, elegantly furnished living room. Gilt framed mirrors covered most of the walls and lights from heavy chandeliers sent soft reflections back and forth across the long room. Cynthia noticed that the motif was very French, the furniture and drapes done in shades of burgundy and pearl grays, and the several tables scattered through the room were of a dark mahogany edged in gold. A number of young girls in very provocative, low-cut dresses were lounging about the room, but Jean led the three of them straight through the room and up a wide staircase without hesitation.
They entered a small living room at the top of the stairs. It was dimly lighted and pleasantly furnished with several love seats facing a small stage with the curtains drawn. A butler entered carrying a tray with four liqueur glasses and began passing among them. Cynthia watched Harry Edwards take a glass from the tray and raise it to his mouth.
"Take it easy," Jean warned. "That's absinthe, the liqueur of the gods, and you must sip it slowly to appreciate it."
Cynthia started to refuse and caught Arlene's look. She picked her glass from the tray and took a dainty sip of the green liquid. Her first reaction was the smell. It had a strong odor, but she liked it and wondered what it reminded her of. Then the bitter flavor permeated her mouth. It was very strong, but Cynthia had to admit she found it very pleasing.
"That'll put lead in your pencil," Harry said, "and I'm going to need a good stiff cock tonight, aren't I, Arlene baby?"
Arlene smiled and walked to one of the love seats and sat down. Harry kept up a running line of crude remarks and Cynthia found she absolutely detested the man. Jean, on the other hand, was being the perfect gentleman, and Cynthia appreciated that. When he sat down on the other love seat, she immediately followed and sat beside him. The thought of even being close to Harry Edwards the way he was acting was too much for her.
Cynthia's head was reeling from the strong absinthe, but they forced another glass on her.
"Go ahead," Arlene urged. "It'll make you enjoy the evening more if your head is a little giddy."
Cynthia started to decline, but when she saw Arlene's stem look she decided that she might as well go along with what they wanted. If she could only talk to Arlene alone and find out what she had to do to get those photographs!
She felt giddy and light, and once, when she tilted her head back to laugh at something Jean said, the room seemed to whirl about her. Jean started a light banter with her, telling her the horrors of Paris traffic, how the prices had gone so high he didn't know how the average person could live there any more, and about how much he liked American girls. Under other circumstances, Cynthia thought, I could really like him. He's so nice, so much a gentleman, and so attractive in his own way.
Cynthia looked over at Arlene and the gross little man next to her. She remembered Arlene's tongue working deep into her cunt and the memory sent a shiver running through her body. How could she sit there with that horse's ass? Cynthia noticed Harry's hand running up and down Arlene's thigh, his fingers nearly touching her crotch each time they passed. Why doesn't she slap him, put him in his place, Cynthia wondered?
Jean put his arm on her shoulder and pulled her closer to him on the love seat. She could feel the pressure of his leg against her thigh, but the absinthe had worked well and dulled her apprehensions about being there. In a way it felt good, and Cynthia reasoned that no harm could come with Arlene in the room. A totally pleasant feeling began seeping through Cynthia's body. She leaned back against Jean's arm and turned her head to smile at him.
Jean smiled back, squeezed her shoulder lightly and nodded toward the stage. The curtains were opening slowly and a young innocent-looking French girl appeared by the bed. She could not have been over seventeen, and was the most lovely thing Cynthia had ever seen. She had a pensive look on her face that mirrored deep sadness. It touched Cynthia deeply. At that moment Cynthia identified with the girl and was wholly absorbed in what she was doing. Her emotions seemed bound to those of the lonely creature, and she felt the welling of tears of sympathy as often occurred when watching an exceptionally sad scene in a movie.
The young girl picked up a framed photograph from the dressing table, gazed fervently at it, and then clasped it to her full breasts, which were tightly caressed by the clinging, jersey dress she wore. She placed the picture lovingly on her satin pillow and began to undress.
She slipped the long gown slowly upward, exposing the arched calves-then the full, well-rounded thighs. The long black stockings, attached to a black lace garter belt contrasted sharply with the creamy ivory of her thighs.
Jean and Harry Edwards drew in their breaths approvingly as the dress crept over the girl's head and fell to the floor. Her body was gleaming perfection as she paused for a moment. Then quickly she unfastened her bra and her high, full-rounded breasts came into view. The stage lights danced on her quivering nipples which quickly became taut as the girl stretched her arms over her head and pirouetted, tossing her blue-black hair across her alluring shoulders.
She was almost naked, now, in just high heels, long, black stockings and the black garter belt covered by sheer bikini panties. She turned and bent over slowly, her back to the audience; drew the silk panties tantalizingly down over her curved hips and buttocks-brushing them sensuously against her smooth thighs and calves, and discarded them at her feet by the dress. She stretched languidly and teasingly turned to the front. All her delicious nudity was exposed now-from her high rounded breasts-to the soft dark triangle of her womanhood.
Cynthia shifted nervously next to Jean. She had never expected anything like this. This exposed all the girl had to offer and she was making no attempt to hide it either.
The girl lay back on the bed now, the picture of her absent lover in her hands, looking at it with a deep longing that could mean only one thing.
She was aroused and needed release!
Cynthia almost gasped aloud as the girl's free hand massaged her own breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the soft nipples into sudden throbbing hardness. Her legs scissored open and closed slowly, exposing the thin slit of her vagina, nestled teasingly in the soft dark hair between her thighs. Her feet were pointing directly at the heavily breathing audience watching the girl slowly work her self into a burning passion. He buttocks twisted against the mattress as though she were trying to bury herself in it. Sheer, wanton desire reflected in her eyes. It seemed so real, Cynthia couldn't understand how the girl could act such a part unless she really felt it. She squirmed her own buttocks nervously, feeling the edge of the cushion brush electrically against the soft welling of her vulva. She jumped at the unexpected contact and the more unexpected shock it had brought. Her breath quickened.
While everyone concentrated on the girl on the stage, Cynthia reached for another glass of the strong absinthe. She downed the liquid quickly, attempting to cool some of the warmth the girl's passion had transmitted to her own body.
However, this drink heightened the feeling from the first one. She didn't feel she was the same person she had been a moment ago. She was someone else and it frightened her a bit, but she couldn't think about it now. The heat and excitement of the room was beginning to stimulate her hotly against her will. She squirmed down against the couch again, feeling the round edge of the cushion push dress and panties into her crevice; she rubbed herself gently against it, working the corner of the cushion between the moist lips of her vulva. Her body rocked on it in almost indiscernible rhythm-in concert with the writhing girl on the stage. She could feel the wetness spread between her thighs and she spread them slightly to gain greater contact with the cushion. The roughness brushed soothingly against her tiny, rising clitoris through the sheer panties.
She looked guiltily out of the comer of her eye at Arlene and Harry next to her to make sure they hadn't noticed; but they were so engrossed that they had paid no attention. Arlene lay back against Harry, dragging heavily on a cigarette, and Harry had his hands inside her bodice. Cynthia could see it move tantalizingly under the thin material covering her breasts. Her dress had slipped up so that the white thighs were visible above the stockings tops; her legs were slightly spread. In the dim light Cynthia could see the white band of her panties between them. Arlene seemed unaware of the exposure. Her mouth was open in intoxicated rapture as both watched the stage intently in expectation.
Cynthia leaned against the back of the couch, careful not to break contact with the edge of the cushion pressed into the crevice between her fevered thighs and found Jean's arm behind her waiting. Without thought, she relaxed against it and made no protest when his hand came to rest heavily on her left breast.
His arm feels good, she thought to herself, and it doesn't mean anything. The musky scent of Jean's cologne filled her nostrils, stimulating her more. It had a rich, suggestive odor that caused her to snuggle closer as the excitement of forbidden naughtiness rippled through her.
It seemed an eternity since she had last looked at the stage, but it was only moments. The girl on the bed writhed more lasciviously now as though being attacked by some unseen lover. She had placed the picture on the bedside table and both her hands were running over her body as though out of control, her fingertips dancing over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest together at the "V" of her soft, down-covered crotch. She groaned at the sudden contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her knees up, her toes on the mattress. Then, she straightened the legs like two beautifully carved ivory columns above the bed; with a deeper groan, she let them fall wide apart exposing to the excited onlookers the moist, glistening furrow between. Her fingers crawled to the hair-covered lips and spread them slowly apart until the wet pinkness was fully visible and the mouth-like orifice opened hungrily. The half moons of her rounded buttocks shone in the stage light, divided by the hot avid crevice between them. Her tiny anus nestled mysterious and inviting below the swollen and agitated lips.
Cynthia gasped in disbelief as the girl slowly inserted a middle finger into the glistening pink, stroking the tiny bud like clitoris. Jean's hand squeezed her breast tighter as she heard and felt his breathing becoming heavier. She was afraid to look at him; was hypnotized into immobility as the sensuous movements of the girl on the bed in creased and her probing fingers worked themselves inside the pink edges of her contracting cunt, slowly widening the lips. She slipped her index finger in and out smoothly between the lubricated lips. Her legs jack-knifed back, knees against her breasts and the soft rounded buttocks rose and fell in response to the inquiring finger. The girl's flaccid muscles tightened as she joined two fingers with the first and clenching her teeth, pushed all three into the hungry pink folds. They disappeared with a soft sucking noise and a soft moan of pleasure purred from the girl's lips.
Cynthia tensed in momentary shock at this in dignity and only Jean's firm grip on her now throbbing breast kept her from running from the room. She sensed that she had better go, before it was too late and her own excitement ran away from her.
This desire lasted only a moment before the effect of the absinthe lulled her again. She waited in anticipation and nervous fear of her own emotions to see what would happen next. Cynthia felt too closely identified with the girl writhing in desire before her and knew there was a danger point from which there was no turning back. She took another sip of absinthe. The warm liquid oozed down her throat relaxing and easing her mind of fear at the passion raging through her own body. She snuggled back again against Jean, somehow determined to keep her guard up.
The girl on the bed had become possessed. Her eyes and teeth were clenched as she writhed beneath her own driving fingers in uncontrollable passion. The rapid rhythm drove grunts of pleasure from deep in her throat as the fingers sunk into the tight, pink openings, making moist, sucking sounds as she withdrew them to push them in again. Her face was red-straining for climax. She groaned in frustration as her own fingers thrust harder and deeper. They were not enough. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, her long dark hair flying in frustration at the inability to bring herself to climax. Still she tried, her hand beating a wild staccato against the spread, straining buttocks, the grunts faster and louder with each passing second.
Cynthia gasped and grabbed Jean's arm tightly as a giant cat came on the stage. It was the biggest thing Cynthia had ever seen, and through her mist-clouded mind she tried to remember what it was. She knew she'd seen animals like it in the zoo. Was it a tiger? No, a tiger had stripes. Was it a leopard? No, a leopard had spots. It wasn't a lion because Cynthia knew a lion had a big furry collar. Jaguar? Cynthia wasn't certain, but it was something like a jaguar.
On the stage the young girl's eyes widened in terror. She jerked the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming, and Cynthia saw the girl's teeth dig into the back of her hand. She tried to lower her legs to jump off the bed and run, but the animal let out a fierce, menacing growl from deep in its throat and the girl froze in her position of masturbation, her eyes the size of saucers and the young flesh on her thighs trembling.
She didn't dare move as the huge animal hovered and growled over her, its fang-like teeth gleaming and its huge flat, pink tongue lapping over its shiny black nose. She drew her knees up to protect her face, the movement leaving her young down-covered crotch fully exposed to the beast. The terror in her eyes was unmistakable. The animal moved closer to the girl, its nostrils flared as it sniffed her damp crotch. The panting, sniffing head was just inches from the pink slit of her cunt.
"Oh, God!" Cynthia said, in a horrified stage whisper to Jean. "What is that beast going to do to the poor girl?"
"Watch and you will see," he answered in her ear. "It will be very exciting, but don't worry. The beast is well-trained. The girl must be new and Madame Cunard hasn't told her what is to happen so she will make it all the more enjoyable for us. Don't fear, the girl will not be hurt."
For the first time Cynthia noticed that the beast's paws were encased in red velvet padding, its claws completely covered so it could not harm the girl. Cynthia knew she should get up and leave, flee while she still had time, but she had promised herself she would see it through for both her and Arlene's sake. Besides, the sight of the helpless girl lying-shaking and trembling all over with fear beneath the growling beast, fascinated her, sent curiously exciting shivers running through her. The obscene thought of seeing the beast rape the helpless girl both frightened and thrilled Cynthia. Goose pimples raised on her skin as she watched the girl quake before the giant cat.
Have I turned into a perverted beast myself, Cynthia wondered? What's the matter with me? I should run and scream for the police, but instead there is a tingling between my thighs! She felt Jean's finger begin massaging her taut nipple and a warmth spread through her. She'd never felt like this with a man before. What was it? Cynthia reached for her glass and took another sip of the green liquid. She tried to remember what she had heard about absinthe, but the pleasant warmth in her body eased all memory.
Cynthia's conscience nagged her. She knew she must leave, get up and run away. Twice she resolved to do just that, but she couldn't make her body obey. She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it. Was it right to compound one sin with another? Wouldn't she be getting in even deeper than she was already? She looked over at Arlene and Harry and almost gasped out loud. Arlene had Harry's prick out of his pants and was playing with it while they watched the girl and the beast on the stage! How could she? For a moment her eyes couldn't leave the monstrous cock in Arlene's hand. It was the largest, thickest thing she had ever seen! She couldn't believe such a small man could have something that big between his legs! It was so long, and so very, very thick. She felt a stab of pain race through her body at the very thought of having something like that up her vagina.
The constant pressure of Jean's fingers on her breast made Cynthia's breath come quicker. She squirmed tighter into the seat to force more pressure on her vulva and ease the ache that was growing there. An evil thought passed through her mind. She wanted to see the defenseless girl ravished by the beast on the stage. She squirmed again, rubbing the pink lips of her cunt against the smooth silk fabric of the seat; a tingling shock ran through her loins and made her warm glow increase as Jean continued to work her taut nipple between his fingers.
Cynthia looked back to the stage. The giant cat had dipped its head down between the girl's widely spread thighs. Its nose was almost touching the soft black hair covering the pink lips of her cunt. The beast sniffed and the girl trembled. Cynthia saw its huge tail slowly wagging back and forth, and she imagined that the beast felt he had found a bitch in heat. He dipped his head and shoved his cold, wet nose against her puckered anus and she gasped. Cynthia saw the girl's muscles tense as the beast darted its large flat tongue out and began lapping the crevice of the helpless girl's ass.
The girl tried to squirm away, but the beast let out a low growl that warned her not to move. She froze, her legs high in the air and her crotch exposed to the beast's hungry mouth. He began to greedily lap the crevice of her ass and then let his tongue slap up against the tender pink lips of her cunt. His great flat tongue ran through the soft, hair-covered swelling like a knife through soft butter. It flicked relentlessly through the cuntal opening, landing on the small bud-like clitoris and caused the girl to groan with deep pleasure.
As terrified as the girl was, she responded to the beast's lapping her sensitive cunt. She began to squirm, then jerked spasmodically, a low groan of pleasure building steadily within her throat. The dark yellow fur on the beast's head rubbed against her exposed thighs, giving her a pleasant sensation, and the stiff whiskers that stood straight out at the sides of the beast's nose tickled her soft flesh.
Cynthia gave herself over to the sight on the stage in front of her. She wallowed in the sensual atmosphere of doing something one shouldn't be doing, but didn't care. She had so identified with the helpless girl on the stage she felt the animal's tongue lapping between her own legs, running up and down the length of her own cunt. She, too, had become an animal, an animal filled with a sexual lust she had never before known.
Cynthia tried to control her squirming body as she heard the girl's terrified moans turn into soft mews of great pleasure as the beast licked her cunt with his great slapping tongue. The girl reached down and grabbed the great animal's ears, pulling his head closer into her cunt. She threw her legs high over her head as he thrust his wide tongue deep into her cunt. It was obvious the girl was torn between her fear of the animal and the slithering, thick tongue that was sending fantastic pleasure through her helpless body.
The beast's tail was swishing back and forth rapidly, indicating his growing excitement as he lapped the luscious pink cunt before him. He ravished her crotch without mercy, dipping his tongue deep up her slit to pull her juices into his hungry mouth. The girl shrieked with pleasure, pulling the animal's ears and wiggling her buttocks to bring her vagina closer and closer to his hungry mouth. Cynthia heard her plead with the dumb animal, encouraging him to sink his tongue deeper and deeper into her cunt.
"Jesus, look at that pussy eat pussy!" said Harry Edwards in a loud voice, laughing at his own crude joke.
The sound of his voice distracted Cynthia's attention from the stage momentarily. She looked over at the other love seat and gasped at what she saw. Arlene had her legs spread out wide, her dress pulled up over her hips. Harry's hand was inside her black lace panties, his middle finger obviously sunk deep into Arlene's gaping hot cunt. Arlene had his huge thick cock in her hand and was moving the skin up and down over the bluish head with hard fast strokes. Her mouth was open as she gaped at the scene of the girl being ravished by the wild, lust-filled beast. Harry's other hand had managed to pull Arlene's left breast out of her dress and he was milking it obscenely as he watched the spectacle on the stage.
Arlene, oblivious to everything and everyone, was grinding her crotch against Harry's hand, lewdly screwing the finger that speared her wet cunt.
Cynthia was repelled by what she saw, yet strangely excited.
CHAPTER TEN
Pushing its way through the hazy mist covering her mind, Cynthia's conscience rang a warning bell. She had to leave, had to flee those wild, abandoned people before it was too late; before she, too, became a lust-filled beast with no concept of what was right or wrong. These people were all sick, degenerated, sex crazed! She couldn't stay here, couldn't go one minute longer like this! What worried her most was the tremendous ache between the lips of her vulva. Was she as bad as the rest of them? She commanded her legs to move, but her body would not obey. She looked at the stage and saw the huge cat driven by a wild lust lapping the poor girl's open cunt, its tongue flapping wildly up over her young belly and enslaving her in a wild animal-like passion. The beast lifted his head from the squirming girl's crotch to let its tongue lap over her belly and then drop hard against her swollen clitoris. She moaned and groaned, now a total slave to the animal's passion.
The helpless girl pulled her legs back farther, raising her pale buttocks before the beast's hungry mouth. He slid his wide tongue down in the crevice between her buttocks and the girl used her hands to spread the white globes as far apart as they would go and completely expose the puckered anus quivering before him. The beast began lapping his tongue up and down her ass, pressing the tip hard into the tiny brown starfish each time it passed. The girl used her two index fingers to open and spread the opening to her asshole, and the huge cat pressed its wide tongue slowly into the brown opening. She wiggled and squirmed as she felt the wet tongue work its way up her narrow canal, moans now coming from deep within her throat.
Cynthia lost all resolve and pushed her conscience back. She could feel the warm tongue lashing through her own intimate regions and she squirmed down into the seat more to press as much of her vulva as she could against the soft, silky material. She inwardly cursed herself for giving into these desires, but she was helpless. The feel of Jean's hands on her breasts both thrilled and frightened her. Cynthia made one feeble effort to dislodge Jean's hand, but he held firm and continued massaging and teasing her now-tortured nipple. When one of Jean's hands dropped to Cynthia's lap, she placed her own hand on top of it and pressed it firmly so that she could feel his palm digging into her pubic mound.
She stared in disbelief at the stage. The huge animal was now pressing its large nose between the girl's buttocks and the mattress, trying to lift the girl's crotch from the bed. Cynthia cringed when she looked between the wild animal's legs and saw a long pink prick beginning to surge forth from its furry sheath. It was long and tapered, the pink shaft crooked slightly downward and dripping with heavy white liquid. It was obvious what the beast wanted, and the girl indicated her willing obedience by turning over and rising to her knees. She bent forward and spread her buttocks wide.
The girl was like an animal, on all fours with her ass spread wide toward the audience and her pink and red cunt opened wide and fully exposed to the wild animal. The beast came up behind her and placed its paws on her back. Suddenly, Cynthia realized why the animal's paws were encased in the heavy velvet. The girl's back would be ripped to shreds if his claws were bare!
Cynthia saw the animal's prick, which had only extended a few inches previously, now come fully out of the furry sheath. She drew her breath in when she realized how long and thick it was. The long tapered end was dripping fluid on the girl's thighs as the animal waved its giant cock around her buttocks seeking entry to the hot cunt he had lapped with his hungry tongue. Finding its mark, the beast lurched forward. Cynthia watched the pink shaft slowly sink into the girl's pussy. The girl's hands beat against the mattress as the beast fell on her body and relentlessly shoved his swollen prick up her gaping cunt.
Cynthia's identification was complete. As she watched, she could actually feel the heavy cock burying itself deep into her own belly. She felt the walls of her cunt expand to take the long driving shaft deep into her vagina. And when Jean slipped his hand down and pulled the hem of her skirt up, she made no move to protest.
Cynthia felt as though she was on fire. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead and she felt a trickle of sweat run down the valley between her oversized breasts which Jean had teased to full attention. Her entire body was wet and on fire. A tiny trickle of sweat ran from her navel to the golden hair on her cunt, moistening even more the hot lips of her pussy. Cynthia felt that the beast was ravishing her instead of the girl on the stage. For a moment a wild thought ran through her head. She wanted to leap on the stage and push the young girl aside so she could place herself under the beast's wild, slashing prick!
Jean pulled Cynthia's skirt up around her waist and began wedging his slender fingers between her tightly clasped thighs. A warning bell, this time much less distinct, rang in Cynthia's lust-filled mind. Now was the time she had to leave if she was ever going to. In another moment she would be like Arlene, her legs spread wide on the couch and a strange man's hands playing with her hungry cunt. Her effort was ridiculously feeble and Jean laughed softly at her. He pressed his fingers down between her thighs and whispered in her ear.
"Open your legs, Cynthia," he said softly. "Open them and let me ease your pain."
Cynthia's nerves were shattered; her will to resist now only a dim flame deep inside her. The lips of her cunt rubbed against the seat as she squirmed, and a fire burned between her legs that she could not control.
Something else was nagging Cynthia. She was responding to what Jean was doing to her. She was excited seeing the huge male organ of the wild animal on the stage. Were these homosexual reactions? Maybe she wasn't a homosexual after all! But, then, what was she? What made her act like these horrible people around her? Why was she pulsating with the crazy desire to be raped by the wild beast? Could she stop now? Should she stop now? What would it prove if she turned into a lust-filled beast herself? The tiny voice, now only a whisper, told her to jump up and demand that they take her back to her hotel. Cynthia desperately wanted to obey that voice, but she couldn't. The fire within her had to be quenched.
Jean managed to slip his fingers deep between her thighs and was now pressing them open. Cynthia reasoned that she was safe as long as the others were there in the room. He couldn't do a thing to her while Arlene was there to take care of her, so why not let him play with her burning crotch? She would stay until the show was over and then demand that they take her back to the hotel.
Cynthia let her eyes go back to the stage as she released some of the tension in her thighs and let Jean's hand force them wide apart. The wild beast was completely covering the helpless girl's body now, its pink prick slashing deep into her ravaged cunt. Saliva was drooling from its mouth onto the girl's back, leaving trails as it ran in rivers to the mattress below. Cynthia couldn't understand the French words, but she knew the girl was shouting lewd encouragement to the beast as it wildly threw its long shaft up her cunt. The scene before her was the most exciting thing she had ever witnessed.
Then a loud moan from the other side of the room drew Cynthia's attention from the stage. She looked over and saw Arlene wildly running the top part of Harry's huge cock in and out of her mouth while he savagely fucked her gaping cunt with two fingers. Arlene had her fingers wrapped around the base of Harry's monstrous weapon, and Cynthia gasped when she realized that Arlene's long, slender fingers did not meet! His cock was that thick! Arlene was acting like a hungry child gobbling a candy stick, her lips crushing and chewing the cudgel in her hand. As Cynthia watched, Harry's cock slipped out of Arlene's mouth with a slushing sound as the suction broke. Arlene's tongue darted out of her mouth and began lapping the end of his inflated prick like it were made of sugar.
Dropping her eyes, Cynthia saw Harry's hand fucking Arlene's wide open cunt. His knuckles dug deep between the pink lips of her pussy as he rammed two fingers deep up her. Arlene's thighs were now covered with thin trails of her cum. It hung in drops to her olive skin and ran down her sheer stockings. It amazed Cynthia that Arlene could possibly enjoy anything as disgusting as that unbelievably huge cock of Harry's.
Then she felt Jean's hand begin moving up her inner thigh, and she shamelessly scooted down in the seat to hurry his progress to her hungry vulva. He let two of his fingers trail softly over the material of her white panties, tracing the lines of the lips of her cunt and pressing only very gently against her already erect clitoris. The contact was electric, sending shock-waves through Cynthia's passion-hungry body. She wanted him to grab her pussy, pull and tug on it, ram his fingers up her hungry cunt, but Jean teased her with light, devilishly exciting strokes that made her breath come in great pants.
God, she screamed to herself in anguish, I have to get out of here! They've reduced me to a molten lump of sex-hungry flesh! I can't stand it! I want that cat's long, pink prick deep inside my belly! I want Jean to rape me-God! What's happened to me?
Grunts were now coming deep from the animal's throat as he plunged his hard prick up the girl's cunt on the stage. Cynthia could see the rippling muscles in his hind quarters as he pushed hard against the girl's body. She had fallen part way to the bed under the animal's great weight, but now her passion forced her to raise her body with great effort so that the giant cat had easier access to her crotch. He immediately lunged harder, sinking his pink shaft even deeper inside her belly.
"Aaaauuuggghhh!" she moaned, as the long prick slashed deep inside her.
Cynthia could see directly between the beasts hairy hind legs. The girl's bright pink flesh between the lips of her cunt glistened with the large drops of moisture from the beast as the lights on the stage caught her pussy. The beast's tail was high in the air and Cynthia could see its anus pucker and contract as it plunged deeper and deeper inside the defenseless girl's belly with its tapered cock.
She felt Jean's hand become more demanding on her own crotch and she slithered forward in the seat to press hard against his probing fingers. Then she felt his other hand beneath her tail, gently pushing upward and she lifted her buttocks from the love seat. Jean's fingers fumbled with the elastic around her white panties, so she helped him by sliding her fingers under the material and slipped the panties down. He pulled them to her knees and then pressed his hand on her flat belly to lower her back to the seat. Cynthia sat down and her body suddenly jerked when she realized that he had placed his hand under her tail and she had impaled herself on his stiff finger when she lowered her body.
Cynthia started to protest, started to raise her body and dislodge his stiff finger from her cunt, but the exciting feeling of being almost helplessly impaled like that thrilled her and she didn't move. Jean's thumb moved up and began pressing her clitoris and Cynthia's crotch was on fire. She quickly glanced over at the other couple. She was so embarrassed at her position, yet she wanted to continue if Arlene hadn't noticed the obscene things she was letting Jean do to her.
Arlene was lost to everything in the room, even the spectacle on the stage before her. Cynthia was amazed to see that Arlene had somehow managed to get Harry's entire cock in her mouth. She saw the striking brunette's throat bulge with the heavy cock working its way down into her depths. Arlene's eyes were glazed, her cheeks puffed, her lips swollen from being spread wide enough to encircle the thick heavy prick in her mouth. Harry Edwards had his legs spread wide and his pants obscenely open with his hairy balls hanging over the "V." His eyes were glued to the girl being ravished on the stage, his mouth open and dripping saliva as he watched.
What Cynthia saw Arlene doing excited and disgusted her. She wondered how it would be to have something that large rammed into your mouth and crushing against the walls of your throat.
"Bounce up and down on my finger," Jean whispered to Cynthia. "You feel a fucking while you watch the girl fucked up there!"
Her mind repelled by the lewd suggestion, Cynthia was amazed to see her body obediently obey his wish. Her hips began to move so that she was bouncing lightly up and down on the seat. Each stroke sent his finger racing up into her cunt, her secretions making it looser and looser. Cynthia hated her body for betraying her like that, and she hated herself for not being able to control her animal desires.
Watching the beast fuck the helpless girl, Cynthia set up a rhythm in her body to match stroke for stroke the ravishment the girl was receiving. In her mind, Cynthia was the girl, and Jean's finger was the beast's prick racing in and out of her cunt with relentless lust.
Cynthia opened her mouth wide and began licking her lips as she bounced up and down on Jean's finger.
"Aaaahh!" she sighed loudly, when Jean moved his hand and inserted a second finger up her cunt. She felt the walls of her vagina expand to receive the two fingers and her hips thrust harder and harder against his hand as she matched the increasing tempo of the beast on the stage.
"Yiiiiii!" screamed the girl on the stage as she entered the beginning throes of orgasm and arched her body to screw her buttocks greedily against the wild animal. She, herself, became a wild animal, her ass bucking hard against the huge cat's flailing hind quarters and her eyes rolling madly about in their sockets. The beast's wide tongue hung from the side of its open mouth and saliva dripped down the girl's bucking back.
"Aaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!" she screamed as she slammed back in a wild buckling movement to impale herself completely on the beast's rampaging cock.
Cynthia could see the sperm splash from the girl's jerking cunt. It came out in wild spurts, flowing around the beast's cock and then running down the crevice of the girl's ass to the mattress below. The girl's ass glistened in the harsh stage light, the white skin covered with a thick running coat of hot white liquid.
Suddenly her own body began to jerk spasmodically as she bounced up and down on Jean's fingers that impaled her cunt. Cynthia lost all control of herself, sweat pouring down her body in tiny streams and her muscles tensed and trembled like jelly.
"Ohhhh!" she moaned as she felt her release come. Hot cum flowed from her in a giant river. It covered Jean's hand and fell to the silk material of the love seat below. Cynthia sat down on his fingers as hard as she could, impaling herself as deeply as possible while she continued to pour out her clear thick liquid. She felt it ooze out of his hand and cover her thighs.
The girl on the stage had fainted from her orgiastic climax, her body going limp beneath the giant beast. Cynthia saw him pull back, his long cock oozing from the girl's ravished cunt and retracting into its furry sheath once more. The beast, in some mysterious animal act of appreciation, leaned down and began licking the unconscious girl's crotch.
Cynthia's eyes glistened with a heavy film and everything blurred for a moment. Unable to control herself, she began sobbing softly. Jean lifted her body slightly and withdrew his hand. Cynthia's body fell back on the love seat, her tail oozing into the sticky puddle of cum she had left on the seat.
The curtains began closing and the stage lights dimmed. Cynthia vaguely saw someone come on stage and lead the satiated animal off. Suddenly it dawned on her that they would soon turn the lights in the room up. She saw her sprawled body, her legs spread wide and her panties around her knees, and Cynthia reacted instinctively. She quickly sat up and pulled her panties up, lifting her buttocks to get them up around her waist. Then she pulled her slip and skirt down, straightening them as best she could without standing up.
She heard the rustle of clothes from the other love seat, but Cynthia couldn't bring herself to look over at Arlene and Harry Edwards. She was so embarrassed, so horrified that they might have seen her so abandoned to her animal lust, that all she could do was stare straight ahead.
By the time the lights came up, Cynthia's mind was firm in her resolve to leave this horrid place. She stood up and looked over at Arlene, who was still straightening her dress. She gasped when she saw that Harry Edwards had not even bothered to put his prick back in his pants.
"Come on girls," he said crudely, "let's get these clothes off and do some real fucking. I've got a pair of sore nuts after that great performance!"
"Arlene," Cynthia said, the desperate tone in her voice unmistakable to all in the room, "let's go to the powder room, shall we?"
"That's a good idea," Arlene answered, realizing that Cynthia would have to be threatened if the rest of her plan was to work. "Come on, darling, it's just down the hall."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"I just can't do it!" Cynthia sobbed to Arlene, once they were safely in the restroom. "I can't take another minute of it, no matter what they do to me!" She dropped her head on her hands on top of the dressing table and began crying hysterically.
Arlene looked down on the trembling blonde with a cold, mean look. You'll do it, darling, she said to herself, and when you feel that tree trunk of Harry's rip your cunt open you'll have good reason to cry, believe me!
"I know, darling," she cooed, changing her expression and running her hand over Cynthia's shoulder softly. "Go ahead and cry. It's just ghastly! They're such beasts, such miserable bastards! The things I had to do to that Harry Edwards! God, how I hate that man!"
This much was certainly true. Arlene's mouth still ached from stretching wide enough to take his horrible cock inside. I'm certainly going to earn my money with him, she thought!
"And every time I think that I got you into this awful mess," she continued, soothing Cynthia's neck muscles with her skillful fingers, "I could just kill myself. It tore my heart out to see you with that Jean in there! I don't care what they do to me. If there was only some way I could get them to take me as their slave and let you go!"
Cynthia sat up, pulling Kleenex from the box and making an effort to repair her tear and sweat-stained make-up. She wiped her eyes and tensed her muscles to control her sobbing.
"Arlene," she said, in a voice that was breaking with emotion, "I have money, plenty of money. Couldn't I buy our way out? Would they take money and give us those awful photos?"
Arlene turned away to hide the look of greed she knew must have registered on her face. Maybe there was some way she could take Cynthia's money! It would be like a bonus, but she had to be careful not to let this interfere with her job for Rene. It would have to be after the orgy, after they had their blackmail photos of Harry Edwards and Jean LeGrande. She knew she would be able to work something out.
"I couldn't let you do that, darling," she replied, straightening her hair in the mirror. "Anyway, I've already tried to buy Frank out. I offered him my entire estate, but he wasn't the least bit interested. I'm afraid money won't do it. At least, not now." Arlene put her comb down and crossed over to embrace Cynthia's shoulders.
"Look," she continued in a soothing voice, "I wouldn't blame you one bit if you walked out on me right now. I feel the same way you do. This is perfectly terrible, and every time I think that it's because of me you have to go through this, I want to cry. Darling, if you just can't take it, I'll walk out with you."
Arlene backed away from Cynthia and deepened her voice to let her next words sink in.
"Let Frank give those pictures to the newspapers with their dirty minds!" she said. "Let him send copies to the ambassador and to Washington! Let him post them on billboards all over the world for all I care! You and I can find some quiet place where people won't care who we are or what we do. Maybe in one of those little countries in South America or even in Africa."
She stopped and let a deep sob wrack her body. "Just say the word, Cynthia, and we'll go," she sniffed, hoping she wasn't being over-dramatic and hamming it up.
Cynthia rushed to her and threw her arms around Arlene, patting her back and burying her head in the crook of her neck.
"Oh, Arlene!" she sobbed. "What will we do?"
"I don't know, darling. I just don't know."
"Arlene," Cynthia said, soothing her suddenly distraught friend. "What will they do to us if we go back in there?"
"You know how men are, Cynthia. They'll make us do all sorts of horrid things to them, and they'll use our bodies in every way they can dream up. Until you came in here I had myself steeled to go through anything with them. I told myself it would be another hour or two and then it would be all over. I knew I could take anything for an hour or two, anything at all, if I could get those photos back and get out of this mess. I told myself I would be as vile and debased as they were. I was even determined to shock them by getting lower in the gutter than they are. If that would make them happy and make them let us alone, I wouldn't mind it."
Cynthia braced her shoulders and walked across the room to the basin. She said nothing, splashing cold water on her face to assure herself she wasn't in the middle of some terrible nightmare.
"I suppose any human can live through an hour or two," she said, drying herself.
Arlene smiled to herself and walked over to Cynthia.
"Darling, I can't ask you to go through this just for me," she said.
"I can do it if you can, Arlene," Cynthia sighed.
"Maybe it won't be too hard on us," Arlene said. "Harry said they hired two fourteen-year-old girls and a young boy to make a party out of it. Maybe we won't have to endure too much, darling."
Cynthia turned to face Arlene and looked straight into her eyes.
"When this is over, we'll be free of everything? Frank will give you the photos and the negatives?"
Arlene returned her frank gaze.
"He promised he would give them to me in the morning, just as soon as Harry and Jean report back to him that we cooperated in every way. Don't worry, darling, this is all we'll have to do."
Arlene placed her hands on Cynthia's shoulders and gazed deeply into her pale blue eyes. She had the blonde where she wanted her, but she wanted to lay the groundwork for whatever scheme she used to get Cynthia's money. Slowly, Arlene pulled Cynthia close to her. Cynthia felt herself melting under Arlene's warmth. Then Arlene cupped her face in her hands and pressed her lips to Cynthia's. Cynthia opened her mouth and felt passion run through her as Arlene's tongue darted inside.
Arlene lowered her hand and began caressing Cynthia's breast, kneading the large soft globe and teasing the taut nipple with her thumb. She leaned into Cynthia's body, pressing her pelvis against Cynthia's and rubbing her breasts against her own.
"And after this, darling," she whispered in Cynthia's ear, "I want you again. Like we were the other night, only I want to sleep the whole night through with my head buried between your heavenly thighs."
"Oh, darling," Cynthia sighed.
She reached out and cupped Arlene's firm breast in her hand and began squeezing it as their lips locked in a wet embrace.
"Not now, darling," Arlene said, pushing Cynthia away from her. "First, we have to become low whores for an hour or two. Then we'll have our whole lives before us, and nobody will ever be able to break us up!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arlene led Cynthia down the hall to a different room and they walked in arm in arm. Cynthia saw that this was an even smaller room with no furniture whatsoever. Except for a thick carpet at the entrance, the floor was covered with a giant, thick mattress covered with sparkling white sheets. Cynthia could tell from the way the sheets gleamed in the light that they were made of a fine grade of heavy satin. She thought that the vast expanse of white made the room seem very stark and wondered why they hadn't chosen a soft pastel color for the sheets. Cynthia had no suspicion that this room was specially designed for photography, nor did she guess that the stereo music filtering into the room was expressly used to cover the noise of the various cameras which would be used.
Harry and Jean were standing with some young children near the entrance. Cynthia looked at the girls in amazement. These couldn't be whores! Arlene had said they were fourteen, but Cynthia was positive they couldn't be over eleven! And the boy! He looked no more than twelve at the most! Were these men really going to do those horrible things to these young children?
Jean, as always the perfect gentleman, smiled and introduced the children.
"Ah," he said. "Cynthia, let me introduce you to Marie, a most delightful child."
Cynthia took the extended hand of the slender young brunette. The girl was not over five feet tall, and she wore a sheer robe that made no effort to conceal her budding body. Cynthia could see the thin lips of Marie's vagina with a hint of pubic hair beginning to form on the sides. Her breasts were tiny, but perfectly formed. Her face had the young gamin look that so excited men the world over, and Cynthia could see why she was chosen for a party like this. Her entire appearance was sensual. Marie looked at Cynthia's body shamelessly, appraising the size of Cynthia's large breasts with admiration.
"And this is Paulette," Jean continued, indicating the slightly large girl with light auburn hair.
Paulette came forward and took Cynthia's hand in a firm clasp. This girl may be fat one day, Cynthia thought, but right now she has a delightfully chubby body, almost voluptuous. Paulette's tiny bikini hid none of her body. The triangle between her legs was designed so the fabric creased lewdly into her slit and outlined her young cunt. The top had small circles cut in the fabric to allow her tiny nipples to stick straight out. Paulette's chubby build made her breasts seem exceptionally large for her body, and this added to her overall desirability. Paulette, the more brazen of the two girls, reached up and cupped Cynthia's breast in her hand, squeezing it admiringly.
Cynthia was shocked, but before he could move to push the girl away, Jean came up with the young boy in tow.
"And this is Jacques," he said.
Jacques put his hand out and Cynthia took it. Before she realized what he was doing, Jacques pulled Cynthia's hand down to his crotch and placed it on his already erect penis.
"You like, lady?" he said, and everyone laughed.
Cynthia blushed. She couldn't believe that the large, hard cock in her hand belonged to that small boy! It seemed impossible!
"When he gets a little older," Harry remarked, "that boy's going to be a real stud!"
Cynthia pulled her hand away and tried to smile with the rest. Just then, the same butler appeared with a tray filled with glasses. She quickly reached for one of the small glasses filled with the now familiar green liquid and took a long gulp. She had told Arlene she would go through with this, but she didn't know if she could do it. The strong absinthe bit her throat and burned its way to her stomach. She quickly finished the glass and felt a warm glow begin to seep through her body.
Were these people for real? Was this just some terrible nightmare? She wouldn't believe that human beings could be this low, this debased. How could these children be like this? Why? What made them do things like this? My God, she said to herself, this just can't be real!
She noticed that the children all refused the liqueur and she quickly replaced her empty glass with a full one as the butler left the room.
"Say," Harry commented. "Don't get bombed out on that stuff, it's dynamite! We're going to have us a real ball, baby, and we want you awake to give us a good time!"
Cynthia blushed and took a quick sip of the strong liqueur.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm fine. I was just thirsty, and I love absinthe."
She watched Harry pull Paulette close to him and begin tweaking her nipples protruding through the holes in her bikini bra. Paulette laughed and immediately reached down to Harry's crotch to begin fondling his giant prick. She exclaimed breathlessly when she had it in her hand under the material of his slacks and said something in rapid French to Marie. Marie went running over and fell to her knees on the mattress in front of Harry. The two young girls quickly unzipped his pants and reached in with their tiny hands. When they withdrew his oversized cock and held it in all four hands, their eyes became as big as saucers.
"Oooooo-La la!" they said together, fondling it and holding it out for everyone to see.
Marie kissed it on one side and Paulette quickly followed suit and placed her lips on the other side of the huge shaft. They giggled and laughed, running their lips up and down the long shaft of Harry's cock. He was obviously pleased and reached down and patted their heads as they licked and fondled his mighty weapon.
It disgusted Cynthia to watch him stand there like a king with the two children on their knees before him playing with his cock and kissing it like it was some sacred object. She turned away and gasped out loud when she saw Arlene. The striking brunette was standing with her legs spread wide apart. Her panties were on the floor near her and she was holding her dress up around her waist. Jacques, the young boy, was kneeling between her legs with his face buried in her cunt. Cynthia could see that he obviously had his finger buried in Arlene's asshole, and she was shocked at the way Arlene was so blatantly enjoying what he was doing to her. Her mouth was open and her tongue darted across her lips as she looked down and watched him lick her pussy.
Cynthia raised her glass to her mouth and finished half of the absinthe in one gulp. When she opened them again, she saw Jean walk to the door at the entrance to the room and close it. He bolted it and then turned to her with a warm, understanding smile.
"I think it's time we all took our clothes off and relaxed," he said, in a voice that carried through the room.
"Good idea," Harry's voice boomed. "Let's let the kids undress us."
Jean translated this to the three children and they immediately got to their feet and took what little clothing they had on off. Then Marie and Paulette went to Arlene and began undressing her.
As they removed her dress, Marie reached up between Arlene's legs and began running her young fingers between the firm lips of Arlene's cunt. Paulette, meanwhile, unsnapped Arlene's bra and pulled it off, freeing her firm breasts. She quickly came around in front of Arlene and cupped a breast in her hand and fed it to her pursed mouth. Jacques got behind Arlene and began rolling her stockings down. When he had them to her ankles, he reached up and pulled the firm cheeks of her buttocks apart and slowly brought his face between them. Cynthia saw his pink tongue dart out and aim at Arlene's anus.
Cynthia was amazed at how Arlene could stand there, hands on her hips, while the three children fondled, licked and sucked her. She saw Arlene close her eyes and tilt her head back. Her body trembled.
"God, that's good!" she sighed.
"Okay kids," Harry said. "Now get Jean's clothes off. Arlene can jerk herself off if she's that hot!"
Jean translated and the three children moved to him. The girls pulled his pants down and then slipped his shorts off while Jacques unbuttoned his shirt and helped him pull it off. Jean stepped out of his pants and the girls giggled as they reached out and began fondling his erect penis. Marie bent down and started licking it while Paulette said something in French to Jacques and then knelt down and let her tongue cover Jean's balls with long wet strokes.
Jacques came up behind Jean and whispered something in his ear. Jean nodded his head and Jacques positioned himself behind the Frenchman. He spread the cheeks of Jean's ass and guided his erect penis to Jean's tight anus. Standing on his toes, Jacques squirmed his hips and thrust forward as hard as he could.
Cynthia saw his hard cock wedge itself in Jean's asshole and then slide upward. She had read about things like this, but she had never suspected that Jean was a homosexual. Harry's crude voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Say," he boomed, "I heard some of you Frenchmen went both ways! I may let the little stud take a crack at my ass before we're through here. That looks like fun!"
Arlene smiled. You do just that Mr. Harry Big Shot, she said to herself. We'd love some good color photos of that! Arlene watched Jacques fuck Jean's ass for a moment and then turned to Cynthia. She was frustrated. Those damned kids had worked her up before she realized it, and she had an ache deep within her vagina. She looked into Cynthia's eyes for a moment and a longing to have Cynthia's head between her thighs swept through her. She started to move toward Cynthia, then stopped. This was Harry Edwards' show and she had better let him run it to his own taste.
Turning from Cynthia, Arlene saw that Harry couldn't wait, and was quickly pulling his clothes off and tossing them to the side of the room. She shuddered when she saw his giant cock standing straight out from his body, its blue veins bulging with excitement and its head already moist. Arlene made a mental note to be sure that Cynthia had a good measure of that cock before the evening was over.
Cynthia was almost in a state of panic. Her gaze was riveted on Jean, the two girls kissing his cock and balls while Jacques obscenely fucked him from behind. She had never believed anything like that could happen, and the sight both terrified and thrilled her. From where she stood she could see the young boy's long cock sliding in and between the cheeks of Jean's ass. It was like two animals rutting, and Cynthia couldn't take her eyes from the scene.
Out of the comer of her eye, Cynthia saw Harry Edwards walk up to Arlene and Place his hands on her shoulders. He pushed her roughly to her knees and jerked his hips so that his huge cudgel was directly in her face. Cynthia turned to watch as Arlene took the giant cock in both hands and wrapped her lips around the tip.
"Suck it!" he commanded, grabbing her long black hair and pulling her face to his crotch. Cynthia saw her cheeks expand as the heavy, thick cock was thrust deep into her mouth.
Suddenly Cynthia had an overwhelming urge to run screaming from the room. She was with a bunch of insane people and she didn't belong there! If she didn't run now she would be as insane as they were! Her mind screamed at her body to move. It was only a few feet to the door and freedom. She found her feet were rooted to the floor. Try as she would, Cynthia was unable to move. Then the absinthe began taking hold on her mind. She became dizzy and had to steady herself from falling. The figures in the room all blurred, becoming fuzzy and covered with a purple mist.
"Hey!" Harry's voice cut through the room and broke the haze surrounding Cynthia's brain. "The blonde cunt is the only one with any clothes on! You kids get her stripped, you hear!"
Jean reluctantly gave up the three children and translated Harry's desire. The two girls left immediately and approached Cynthia, but Jacques refused to give up Jean's asshole. He pleaded with Jean to get down on the mattress on his knees and let him take him dog-style. Jean gave in and went down on his knees, bending forward on his hands. Jacques got behind him and fell on him like an animal, sinking his cock up Jean's ass in one swift lunge and plunging in and out as fast as he could.
Cynthia saw the two girls coming, and wanted to run, but she was still unable to move. Marie reached her first and began unzipping her dress from behind. She let her young hands linger on Cynthia's back and began stroking her in a soft caress. Cynthia felt an ache growing between her legs and cursed herself for the weakness of her flesh. Paulette came up and reached down to lift Cynthia's dress over her head. Cynthia automatically lifted her arms and bent forward. Marie and Paulette laughed as they pulled the dress over her head and down her arms. Marie immediately unsnapped Cynthia's bra and pulled it off, her hands quickly cupping Cynthia's large breasts and her thumbs and forefingers tweaking the soft nipples.
Paulette unsnapped her garter belt and rolled Cynthia's stockings down. Then she slipped her slender fingers under the elastic of Cynthia's white panties and slowly pulled them down. She got down on the mattress and helped Cynthia take her shoes off by lifting her feet one by one. When Cynthia was completely nude, Paulette reached up to her golden crotch and inserted her younger fingers between the lips of Cynthia's cunt. She immediately found the clitoris and began massaging it.
"Hey," Harry boomed. "The blonde cunt likes girls, so let's see what these two can do to her! With Jacques there banging old Jean's asshole, Arlene and I'll have a real show going for us."
Jean managed to grunt three words to the young girls and together they pulled Cynthia down to the mattress.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Clint Addison made his way through the corridors of the office complex of the American Embassy and opened the door to the three-room suite occupied by "The Agency." It was late and all the other offices were dark and quiet, but "The Agency" kept odd hours. His chief, fifty-two-year-old Hal Simmons, waved him into the inner office.
"How'd it go?" Simmons asked, leaning back in his chair and re-lighting his pipe.
"They're in a whorehouse-Madame Cunard's, to be exact," Addison replied, dropping into the chair in front of Simmons' desk. "I wasn't sure you'd okay a 'night in a whorehouse' item on the expense report, so I left them there."
"You're right," Simmons smiled.
"What?"
"I wouldn't have okayed it."
"Anyway," Addison continued, "Arlene Richards spent two hours with Rene this afternoon, and our friend from Moscow was there. I guess that about ties that up. You want me to make an appointment for you with the ambassador tomorrow so we can get her out of here?"
Hal Simmons leaned forward and went through some dispatches on his desk. He appeared to be searching for something, but Clint Addison knew that this was the chief's way of delaying for a moment while he thought something out.
"I think not, Clint," Simmons said, after a moment or two. "I think we'll just leave Miss Richards, or more correctly, Miss Brandt, where she is for a while. She may prove useful, or she may lead us to something."
Clint stood up, a concerned look on his face and his irritation indicated by his lighting one of his care cigarettes. Clint seldom smoked, and when he did it was a sign he was troubled.
"What about security?" he asked. "Shouldn't we brief the ambassador on what we know?"
"I don't think that will be necessary, Clint," Simmons replied with a chuckle. "After all, the ambassador is just a political appointee, not a professional like us. And Miss Brandt's duties here don't involve her in any real security clearances." Hal Simmons, unable to get a decent draw on his pipe, took a small knife and scraped the bowl out into an ash tray. He calmly opened a pouch and filled his pipe with a rare blend of expensive tobacco, lighted it with his silver Dunhill pipe lighter and leaned back again.
"Sit down, Clint," he said. "Let's go over this briefly. Just what do you think they're up to?"
"It seems obvious to me," Clint responded. "They're using the Brandt girl as a sex machine to get to any of our people they can. Harry Edwards is a natural, and it looks like they've picked on Jean Le Grande to embarrass the French government. I'll admit I don't immediately see the connection with Cynthia Walters."
"She's another target, Clint," Simmons said. "I'm fairly sure of that. A naive, emotionally disturbed girl they've chosen to expose as a sexual degenerate. Right now, I'm not too concerned with Miss Walters. Harry Edwards is a true horse's ass, but his link with the White House makes him a prime target for the Communists."
"You think they'll try to blackmail him into giving them top secret material?" Clint asked.
"They might. And then again they might just want to expose him and embarrass the White House. That, of course, is the President's worry, and it couldn't happen to a nicer man. But, if our friend tries to turn over intelligence material, we'll have to step in and stop it."
Hal Simmons went through several dispatches he had in his hand and gave one to Clint Addison across the table."
"We've had a real break in Washington, Clint," he continued. "The Agency picked up a Gina Collins on a tip from the secretary to the Secretary of State. She's a Communist agent and she admits she was assigned to seduce the Secretary's secretary into a Lesbian affair. Under pressure, Miss Collins became quite talkative and gave us the names and assignments of two of her fellow agents."
Clint quickly read the report.
"It looks like the new Communist policy is sex," he commented.
"Exactly!" replied Simmons. "And that's why I want Miss Brandt left alone at present. I also want to know everything there is to know about her. Is she a true believer, or can she be bought? Could she be turned into a double agent, and could she be trusted? Can we get her parents out of East Germany? Everything. Put Marsha on it. She's good at digging up facts on another woman. I have a feeling they may want to send Miss Brandt over to Washington to replace Miss Collins. If I'm right, we'll have a request for transfer soon from Miss Arlene Richards."
Clint Addison stood up and moved around the desk toward the door.
"Shall I advise French Intelligence about Jean LeGrande?" he asked.
Hal Simmons rubbed his chin and placed his pipe in the ash tray.
"Let me think that one over, Clint. You couldn't exactly say they've helped us lately. I'll let you knew in the morning. Meanwhile, get me all you can on Cynthia Walters. Request a wire of her personnel file from Washington. I just had some second thoughts about Miss Walters, and there's an outside chance she may be useful to us."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The absinthe had dulled Cynthia's sense of control and she lost her balance when Marie and Paulette began pulling her to the mattress. She fell and the two girls fell with her, all three rolling on top of one another. The two young girls giggled and Cynthia had to smile at them. They were so young, so full of love of life. The feel of their young flesh against hers thrilled Cynthia. In their tumble, Cynthia's hand accidentally bushed against Marie's immature breast, and the feel of the soft, pliant nipple against the tips of her fingers sent a tiny, electric shock through Cynthia's body.
When she opened her eyes, Cynthia saw Marie's gamin face next to her own. The young girl's eyes sparkled and her thin lips were parted in a merry smile. Her pearl-white teeth framed against the pale pink lips made her mouth inviting. Marie put her hand out and caressed Cynthia's cheek, then held it as she moved her face forward and pressed her lips against Cynthia's full mouth. Cynthia tried to push her away, but Marie was half on top of her working her lips feverishly against Cynthia's.
Cynthia felt her young tongue begin running back and forth across her lips and a dull ache spread through her body. My God, she said to herself, I can't let this child make love to me! I can't become aroused and want sex with a young girl like this! Her body betrayed her again, however, and when Marie's tongue darted between her lips into her mouth, Cynthia responded with her own tongue. Marie's mouth was voracious, chewing, nibbling, licking Cynthia's mouth with a hunger Cynthia hadn't experienced even with Arlene!
She threw her arms around Marie's tiny body and locked her in a hungry embrace. And then she felt hands on her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh and pulled her legs apart. Cynthia looked down and managed to see Paulette kneeling between her thighs. Paulette looked her straight in the eye, a wide smile breaking on her face and she let her young fingers trace tiny trails across and up and down Cynthia's legs while Marie greedily fed on Cynthia's lips and tongue.
Then, as Cynthia watched, Paulette bent her head down and began trailing the tip of her young tongue along the inside of Cynthia's thighs. The moist touch sent a fire racing to Cynthia's crotch, but Paulette was just teasing her. She ran her tongue along one thigh and then along the other, never once letting it touch the golden covered pink lips of Cynthia's cunt. Cynthia's body began to quiver. She wanted Paulette to spread the lips of her cunt and lick her! Oh, God, she cried inside, how can I be like this, Marie's mouth had become too demanding and Cynthia had to concentrate on the wet, exciting kiss they were locked in. She held Marie tight, but the young French girl managed to free her arm and hand lower it to Cynthia's heavy white globe. Marie's fingers kneaded and massaged the heavy breast, then began teasing the now taut nipple with light caresses.
All of Cynthia's defenses were gone now. She abandoned herself to the fantastic pleasure these two young girls were giving her body. She let her hand run down Marie's young back, her fingers firmly rippling the young flesh. Cynthia cupped Marie's small, firm cheeks in her hand and massaged the young buttocks. Then her fingers slipped into the small crevice and slithered down past the small puckered anus to the opening of the thin lips of the girl's young cunt. Just traces of fine, silky hair were beginning to cover the long slit and Cynthia let her fingers rub the downy silk in a tickling motion for a moment. Marie squirmed, spreading her thighs and opening slightly the lips of her young cunt. Cynthia could resist no longer. She pulled the thin lips apart and let her finger trail up and down the length of the slit. Cynthia noticed that Marie's cunt was already moist, a sign that she was truly aroused by their embrace. Carefully, she let her finger dip into the warm hole, and then she began working it up inside the young French girl's belly.
Paulette, using both hands, spread the heavy lips of Cynthia's pussy open wide. She sat there staring at the wet pink flesh, her tongue running back and forth across her lips. With one finger she located the erect bud of Cynthia's clitoris and tweaked it back and forth. The effect was immediate. Cynthia's body arched slightly and her hips thrust forward. Paulette smiled and bent down, her tongue darting out and running the length of Cynthia's wide open cunt. She let it trail along the insides of Cynthia's vulva and then along the outside, teasing the blonde with small kisses as she moved her mouth around the gaping pussy. When she reached Cynthia's clitoris, Paulette sucked it into her mouth with a wet kiss. She scraped her teeth against the edges of Cynthia's sensitive bud and then used her tongue like the wings of an impatient butterfly, flitting against it in a barrage of maddening strokes. She giggled as she saw Cynthia's cuntal opening expand and contract rapidly like a hungry child searching for something to fill its mouth.
Cynthia was on fire. Paulette's tongue was driving her out of her mind. She wanted to capture it and suck it up inside her belly, let it lick the walls of her raging vagina, but Paulette was teasing and loving her too skillfully. It was the child who was in control, and Cynthia was at her mercy.
Marie broke their embrace and quickly dropped her head to Cynthia's chest. She took a breast in each hand and kneaded them almost cruelly. She pinched Cynthia's nipples hard and smiled when the blonde woman winced in pain. Cynthia was about to say something when Marie formed her thin lips into a large "O" and dipped her head to capture the ripe bud of Cynthia's taut nipple in her hungry, greedy mouth. She cupped her hand just below the nipple and squeezed so that the tip of Cynthia's large breast came to a point in her mouth. Her young tongue, trained for months for this, ran across the crease at the top of Cynthia's nipple while her lips and teeth sucked and pulled the extended point her cupped hand had forced at the top of the creamy white breast.
Paulette new began licking Cynthia's cunt in earnest. Her tongue became firm and she used long sweeping strokes that began at the clitoris and ran to the puckered anus between Cynthia's full buttocks. Cynthia's crotch was jerking spasmodically, and Paulette knew she wasn't far from climax. She formed her tongue into a "U" and sunk it deep inside the gaping red hole of Cynthia's vagina, imitating a man's penis with rapid swirling strokes in and out.
Cynthia's arm shot out and grabbed Marie's waist. Her hunger was so complete now it had to be satisfied. She pulled Marie's body upward and Marie instantly grasped what the woman wanted. She moved up and placed herself in a kneeling position straddling Cynthia's weaving head, then lowered her body until her young cunt was directly over Cynthia's hungry mouth. Never once did she let Cynthia's tortured breast leave her greedy mouth as she changed positions.
Cynthia looked up at the small cunt above her and felt a hunger she had never known before. She reached up and pulled the thin lips apart with her fingers and then pressed the young girl's body downward so that the pink flesh of her pussy covered Cynthia's mouth. Her tongue shot out of her mouth and she greedily began licking the moist, salty flesh. She let her tongue run back and forth across the tiny anus tucked between Marie's young cheeks, and then hardened it and dipped up inside the child's vagina.
Arlene had both hands on Harry's huge cock and was masturbating him slowly while they watched Cynthia and the two young girls. The sight was driving her crazy! Her loins ached to have Paulette's head buried in her crotch, and she kept running her tongue back and forth across her lips, the imaginary taste of Marie's young cunt permeating her mouth.
"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Harry Edwards, his own pulse racing from what he was watching. "Look at those girls work that blonde over! You want them to give you the same treatment, baby?" he asked Arlene, reaching out and squeezing her breast hard.
"It does look yummy," she replied. "I wouldn't mind a little of that at all!"
"Okay, Arlene baby, as soon as they're through gobbling her up, you take them both on for a while. I have some plans for that blonde cunt, and Jacques is going to give me a hand."
Arlene smiled. Cynthia would get her share of this tree stump she had in her hands, and that would do the simple blonde some good!
"Oooohhh!" moaned Cynthia, as Paulette suddenly jammed three fingers up her cunt and began screwing her wildly while she licked her clitoris at the same time. She could hold back no longer, and she let herself go into a series of convulsive spasms as her body went through the beginning stages of a giant orgasm.
Marie saw Cynthia's body begin to melt. She began biting the nipple and breast in her hand hard, leaving white teeth marks in the skin. With her other hand she began pinching the nipple on Cynthia's other breast while she ground her crotch hard into Cynthia's face. Squirming a bit, Marie managed to lodge Cynthia's nose up her cunt and she rode it like a horse, bobbing up and down and sliding from side to side. Cynthia caught her tiny clitoris in her mouth and sucked hard.
"Auuuuggggghhhhh," Cynthia groaned, as the two girls increased their tempo and pushed her higher and higher up the ladder of pleasure. She bit Marie's small clitoris gently and this triggered Marie's orgasm.
"Aaaahhh!" the young girl screamed, grinding her crotch almost brutally against Cynthia's mouth and nose. Cynthia was surprised to feel a flood of clear liquid come rushing from the young girl's cunt. It filled her mouth and ran down the cheeks of her flushed face. She cupped her mouth to catch all the sweet young juice she could. And then her own dam broke.
"Oooohhh!" Cynthia groaned, as skyrockets went off before her eyes and her body strained against Paulette's young fingers. Paulette gave her three quick strokes and then quickly bent down to lick her cum as it flowed in rivers from her gaping cunt. Her tongue lapped greedily, catching all it could and pulling it into her mouth. She raised her young face and smiled at Cynthia, cum dripping from the corners of her mouth and running down her chin.
Marie slowly lifted her young body and fell over to Cynthia's side, the two of them physically exhausted.
"That was quite a show, baby," Harry's voice boomed down at Cynthia, breaking her blissful relaxation and rest.
She opened her eyes and saw him standing above her, his huge cock sticking straight out from his body and his hairy balls hanging obscenely down. Her body gave an involuntary shudder when she saw the mean, lewd look on his face. She watched with disgust as Harry reached down with his hand and began stroking his long, thick rod above her.
"Yessir," he said, "that was quite some show. But now I think you need a man to show you what sex is really all about."
He signaled the girls with a wave of his hand.
"You kids go over there and give that brunette the same treatment. Tell them to eat Arlene until she begs them to stop," he said, turning to Jean who was stretched out relaxing after his bout with young Jacques.
The two young girls rose and moved slowly across the room to where Arlene was lying on her side propped up by her arm. Her other hand was buried between her legs, her fingers slowly massaging her clitoris in anticipation of what she would have the two young girls do to her.
Harry Edwards dropped to his knees beside Cynthia's prone body. He raised his heavy cock and let it drop hard across Cynthia's lips. It made a loud slapping noise and Cynthia moaned as her bruised lips bit into her teeth. Harry laughed.
"Let's see what you can do with a real man's cock, baby. Lick it!" he commanded in a harsh voice.
Panic mixed with nausea gripped Cynthia. The pungent odor of Harry's wet cock filled her nostrils and turned her stomach. She felt her lips pressing hard against her teeth from the tremendous pressure of his heavy cock laying on her mouth. His hairy balls were hanging down her neck, scraping her tender skin as Harry jerked his hips in short strokes to bounce them against her body.
"Lick that prick, I said!" he snarled.
Cynthia knew she had gone to far to back out now. It was only justice in her mind that she pay for the awful pleasure she had received from the two young girls. She told herself this was God's revenge for the ghastly things she had done against the order of nature. She reached up with her hand and grasped the shaft of Harry's cock. Holding it less than an inch away from her mouth, she began letting her tongue run along the salty shaft.
"That's better," Harry said. "Hey, Jacques, come over here and stick that stud's cock of yours up this cunt. I want it good and warmed up when I sink this baby of mine in it!"
Jean explained to the boy what Harry wanted and Jacques came over and placed himself between Cynthia's legs. He reached down and took his prick in one hand to fondle it to erection, while he used his other hand to open Cynthia's cunt before his eyes. She was wet from her orgiastic climax with the girls, and Jacques' hand slipped several times. Before long, he was excited and erect. He braced himself on his knees and guided his long cock to the wet lips of Cynthia's pussy.
"That's it, boy!" Harry urged. "Pour the meat to her!"
Cynthia was using her tongue in long strokes along the shaft of Harry's penis, cupping his balls in her hand and squeezing them as she covered his prick with her saliva. A strange feeling had flooded her mind. She was no longer in possession of her body. It now belonged to these people and they could do their will with it. She had no feeling and a dim, black cloud seemed to engulf her. It was like being asleep and Cynthia was only vaguely aware of what was going on around her.
Suddenly a pain ripped into her belly and brought her out of her semi-conscious state. Her eyes dilated as she felt the hard penis rip into her vagina and bounce off her cervix.
"Uuuuggghhh!" she moaned, as the pain raced through her body.
"Shut up!" Harry snarled. "Take this cock in your mouth, that'll keep you quiet. Suck it, I said!"
Harry took her jaw in one hand and her nose in the other, prying her mouth open as he forced the tip of his huge cock between her lips. Jacques was surprised to find Cynthia's cunt dry inside, and he warmed to his task by delivering punishingly hard strokes deep inside her belly. Harry moved his leg over her body so he was straddling her and then lunged his cock deep into her throat.
Cynthia felt the panic sweep through her. Harry's cock was lodged in her throat, forcing her to breath through her nose. His balls were bouncing off her chin as he lunged with short, hard thrusts into her mouth, and the wiry hair was scraping the sensitive skin on her chin raw. She couldn't move, impaled on two hard pricks and held to the floor by two muscular bodies. Her arms flew up, flailing Harry's face and chest. He laughed and pinned them to her sides. In her panic, Cynthia did the only thing her mind could conceive. She sunk her teeth hard into Harry's huge cock.
"Owwwww!" he screamed, pulling his cock quickly from her mouth. He inspected the shaft to see if she had drawn blood, then slapped her hard across the face. "Okay, baby, that's the way we'll play then!"
He motioned Jacques away and placed himself between her legs. With sign language, Harry imparted to Jacques that he wanted the young boy to hold her legs high in the air. Jacques grabbed Cynthia's ankles and lifted them above her head and held them there while Harry guided his monstrous cudgel to the fully exposed blonde cunt before him.
"Uuuuggghhh!" Cynthia groaned as she felt him insert the tip of his cock in her vagina. She felt the walls tear and give before the heavy, thick member pressing into their interior. Although he was now just a hazy outline, Cynthia saw Harry rear back and lunge forward, using his giant prick as a lance to spear her belly. It ripped into her like a nail driven by a heavy blow from a' large hammer, tearing the thin membranes and bruising her internal organs as it forced its way up inside her.
"Aaaauuuggghhh!" she screamed, her voice slicing through the room like a knife.
"Oh, no, baby," Harry snarled. "That's just half way home. I'm going to ram this until my balls sink into your asshole! Hold her legs tight, Jacques I'm going all the way this time!"
He pressed his hairy belly against the undersides of her legs and gripped her waist in a firm hold. Digging his tees into the mattress, Harry let his body fall on the helpless blonde as he shoved unmercifully into her crotch.
The pain running through her body took Cynthia back to that night in her childhood. Suddenly she became a mad woman and sent an ear piercing scream through the room. Her hands flew out at her tormentors, fingernails searching for flesh to dig into. Her right hand caught Harry's chest and she dug her nails deep beneath the skin and ripped with a slashing movement of her arm. Blood flowed immediately, dark red drops covering her body. Her other hand hit Jacques' leg and she managed to dig the nail on her index finger just below the surface of his taut young skin. He screamed and let her ankles go as blood began running down his leg.
Harry Edwards was in a rage. He called Arlene and the two girls over to help him. Jean brought a towel and tried wiping the blood off of Harry's chest, but he waved the Frenchman aside.
"We're going to give this bitch a lesson she'll never forget," he growled. "I want her on her hands and knees, bent over!"
Jacques, Arlene and the two girls quickly grabbed Cynthia and flipped her over. The girls each pinned one of Cynthia's arms to the mattress while Arlene and Jacques grabbed her waist and struggled with her body until they had her in a kneeling position.
"You hold her there, Jacques," Harry growled, "and you spread those cheeks of her lily-white ass, Arlene, baby. I'm going to ream her out a brand new asshole!"
Arlene leaned over Cynthia's body facing Harry. She let her long, slender fingers slide down to the crevice of Cynthia's buttocks, massaging the flesh as she went. She looked at Harry on his knees, his rigid cock standing out like a thick club, and smiled inwardly. This would keep Cynthia in line, she told herself! Unable to resist the temptation, Arlene let her finger slide down to the tightly puckered anus between Cynthia's white cheeks. With a quick flick, she dug her finger inside the tight hole.
"Uuuuggghhh!" moaned Cynthia, a pain jabbing through her rectum at the foreign invasion.
"That's nothing, baby, you just wait," Harry muttered, stroking his cock in anticipation of sinking it deep inside the blonde's ass. "Arlene, baby, you lick her ass and get it wet enough so I can get this in."
Arlene dropped her head between the straining cheeks and flicked her tongue around the tight little opening. She formed her tongue into a pointed "U" and pressed the tip hard against the
'brown hole before her. She felt it slowly expand and give enough to allow the tip of her tongue to pop inside the elastic ring. Manufacturing saliva quickly in her mouth, Arlene pushed her tongue far up Cynthia's ass.
Cynthia's body was taut, tied up in knots. Marie and Paulette were holding her arms pinned to the mattress and Cynthia couldn't move. Her shoulders ached from the unnatural position and her head was pressed to one side. All she could see was Paulette kneeling on the lower part of her arm. As she watched, Jean came up and knelt down in front of Paulette. She gaily reached out for his limp penis and began fondling it. Cynthia saw it jump to election almost immediately, then watched Paulette bend down and take it in her small mouth.
Almost unbelievable, Cynthia felt herself become aroused. The sight of Jean's full cock sliding in and out between the young girl's lips made her tingle with excitement. Then she felt Arlene's cool, wet tongue slide into her ass and Cynthia began to squirm with a fire building inside her.
It was short lived. Arlene reached back and took Harry's heavy cock in her hand to guide it to the small brown hole between Cynthia's cheeks. She smiled and kept her face close to the contact so that she could watch Harry rip into the blonde. Pulling the foreskin back, Arlene set the tip of Harry's prick against Cynthia's asshole. Pulling, she urged him to press hard until she saw the elastic ring begin to give. Just the point was inside now, but Harry began pushing hard with his hips.
"Yiiiiiiii!" screamed Cynthia as the elastic ring broke and she felt Harry's cock ram up inside her. Her knees buckled, but Arlene and Jacques held her up so that Harry could keep ramming into her. Cynthia felt as if a huge, sharp knife had just cut her into two people.
Arlene watched the brown-streaked shaft pull back and lunge hard into the flesh of the helpless girl. Harry's balls swung like pendulums, slapping loudly against the cheeks of Cynthia's ass as he used his hips like giant pistons against her. Arlene saw a glazed stare come into his eyes as he began fucking the ravaged asshole wildly. A thin coat of pink blood covered the entire length of his cock now, but Arlene knew it was too late to stop him. The sadistic side of his personality now had command of his body and he would go on to completion.
"Aaaaayyyyiiiiiiii."
Cynthia's scream sliced through the room as Harry battered against her. Jean covered his ears and pulled away from Paulette who had been sucking his cock. The girls stopped laughing and looked with compassion on the woman they held prisoner. Jacques turned his head to avert his gaze from the torture Harry was inflicting on the defenseless girl's ass.
His exertions opened the deep wounds on his chest and blood was flowing from Harry. It splashed down and covered Cynthia's buttocks with large red splatters. Several drops flew out and landed on Arlene's chin and she turned away in disgust. Marie and Paulette were now frightened. They quickly moved away from the spectacle, leaving Cynthia's hands free. Cynthia raised her body with a mighty effort, but Harry saw what was happening. He grabbed her waist and suddenly came to his feet with Cynthia's body impaled on his huge cock.
"Now let's fuck, you bitch!" he screamed in a fury, jerking his hips with each step as he walked the impaled girl around the room with her feet off the floor. Blood began streaming down Cynthia's back, down her belly and over her thighs. She fainted.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was one of those unexpected rains that sent Parisians scurrying for shelter. People were huddled at street comers, sharing the shelter of a newspaper held above their heads, and traffic, as usual, was snarled. Every driver was frustrated. What had begun as a beautiful, sunny day, suddenly turned into a downpour. Horns honked, voices screamed curses from cracked car windows and tires screeched as brakes were hastily applied. Paris was glum.
The mood matched the weather in Rent's apartment. Six men, brows knitted and sleeves rolled up, chain-smoked and argued. They had all arrived within the last thirty minutes in answer to Rent's urgent summons.
"Where in the hell is Arlene?" the man called Walter asked. "I could use some coffee and a sweet roll!"
"That's another problem, gentlemen," Rene replied. "It seems there was a little accident at Madame Cunard's last night, or rather this morning," he said looking at his watch. "It should be all over Paris and the world within an hour or two."
"What happened?" asked the heavy-set man from Moscow who had just arrived.
"It seems Jean LeGrande went crazy for a moment and brutally murdered Harry Edwards," Rene replied, crossing the room and taking another cigarette from the marble box on the coffee table. "Good God!" said Walter. "Are we involved?"
"Yes and no," Rene replied.
"Explain!" came the curt command from the man from Moscow.
"We engineered the orgy as a part of our embarrassing the U.S. State Department policy," Rene said. "It was Arlene's party and she had Cynthia Walters, an employee of the state department in Washington, along. I don't have all the lurid details yet, but Miss Walters is in a state of shock and Harry Edwards is dead with his neck broken. Arlene is with Miss Walters in a private hospital and will get here as quickly as she can. Madame Cunard, of course, is covering all traces of the orgy and Edward's body will be found in the Seine. Unfortunately, LeGrande went to the police and confessed the killing. The police haven't been able to make much sense out of him yet, and one of our men is there now. LeGrande will not live to tell them anything. So, yes we engineered it, and no, we won't be involved."
"What about the Walters girl?" the heavy-set man asked.
Rene walked across the room and stood by the window gazing down at the snarled traffic below. The rain pelted against the window, leaving little drops that formed together to break and run in a stream down the pane. He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.
"We can handle that," he said. "We've probably lost all the value of what we had set her up for, but we can handle her. If worse comes to worse, she'll just conveniently disappear."
"Anything else?" the heavy-set man asked.
"Yes, comrade. Before you got here I was explaining to the other comrades about the communiqu' I received from Washington early this morning. It seemed the C.I.A. dealt us a bad blow yesterday in Washington. They picked up Gina Collins and two other agents. We're not sure, but it looks like Comrade Gina did some talking."
The heavy-set man stood up quickly, nervously snapping his short, stubby fingers.
"Did you send this on to Moscow?"
"The original went to Moscow. What I received was a routine copy," Rene replied.
"And have you talked to Moscow?" asked the nervous fat man.
"Not yet," Rene answered. "I've left word we want to talk and Comrade Karl is standing by on the radio in the next room. They haven't responded yet."
Walter stood and walked to the window beside Rene.
"Comrades, is there any way we may gain some benefit out of the Harry Edwards murder?" he asked. "It would seem to me to be a tailor-made opportunity for some excellent propaganda."
Rene moved away from the window, borrowing a cigarette from Walter as he passed.
"Unfortunately, Comrade Walter," Rene replied, "whatever we do in that direction embarrasses the DeGaulle cabinet. At the present moment we do not want to embarrass DeGaulle, so that takes care of that."
"Then what in the hell were we doing with LeGrande at the orgy in the first place?" Walter asked.
Rene smiled and walked over to pat Walter on the back.
"That?" he said. "Oh, we wanted to have some little photos to hold over LeGrande's head. We thought they might be useful some time in the future to help set policy."
The door opened and Comrade Karl stuck his head into the room, beckoning to the heavy-set man, who immediately left the room. Rene sat down on the long couch and chatted with several of the men, putting one cigarette out and lighting another immediately. The conversation droned on with proposals and counter-proposals until the heavy-set man returned a few minutes later.
"Comrades!" his voice boomed. "Comrades, please! I've just talked to Moscow."
Everyone fell silent and turned to listen to what he was about to say.
"Moscow wants us to remain out of the LeGrande affair, but they approve his removal you've already ordered, Rene. Our agents who have been exposed are to be replaced and the program is to continue as planned."
There were some grumbles in the room, but no one dared speak openly against orders from Moscow. Walter stood up and walked over to Rene.
"I suggest we send Arlene to Washington to replace Gina Collins," he said. "That will also conveniently get her out of Paris in case anything should break on the affair at Madame Cunard's." Rene looked at Walter for a moment, considering his suggestion and weighing the possibilities in his mind.
"I think that would be a mistake," he replied at last. "If Arlene put in for a transfer with the American Embassy now, the C.I.A. would spot her as our agent in a minute. We must remember that they expect us to replace Gina, and they'll be watching for something like this. If we send Arlene to Washington now, we compromise her, and I hardly think we can afford to do that."
"I agree!" said the heavy-set man. "Agents like Gina and Arlene are too hard to come by. Whores we can hire, but a whore with sense, and a whore who can travel with top-level government people, is a rare commodity. No, we cannot compromise Arlene under any circumstances. Isn't there someone in Washington now who can take Gina's place?"
"They want someone from outside," Rene replied. "Someone the C.I.A. has no file on."
Names flew back and forth across the room and the men argued how the new policy would be implemented. After almost two hours of conversation, Rene walked over and opened the window to clear some of the smoke from the room.
"Comrades," he said, turning back to the men huddled around the coffee table, "we've reached an impasse. I suggest we adjourn until this evening. Perhaps I can come up with some solutions to our problem as I work out the daily routine business. In any event. Arlene will surely be here this evening and we'll know more than we do now."
Some nodded and some grunted their approval, and all of the men began straightening their ties and pulling on their coats. Rene walked over to the heavy-set man and asked him to stay after the others left. He nodded and shook hands as the others left at five minute intervals. Rene took a hot shower while the men were clearing the apartment, and when he returned to the living room he found Arlene calmly describing the events of the night before to the heavy-set man.
Rene was surprised at Arlene's appearance. He had never seen her look quite so bad before. Her hair was disheveled, her cocktail dress-so out of place on a rainy morning-was wrinkled and stained, and her make-up was streaked with large circles under her eyes. She saw him appraising her.
"I've just been telling the comrade," she remarked to Rene, "that I had one hell of an evening last night."
"So I heard," Rene replied. "How is Miss Walters?"
"I can't really say," Arlene sighed. "I've been with her at the hospital for hours. She's in a state of shock, doesn't recognize me or anybody, doesn't know her name, has no idea what happened to her. A total blank-out. The doctors had her in surgery for over an hour...."
"Surgery!" interrupted Rene.
"Our friend Harry Edwards buggered her and ripped her tail up pretty badly. That's what started the whole thing between him and LeGrande. They were at each other before I could get to them. By the time I made it across the room, Edwards was dead. It's been a mess!"
"Is it safe to leave Miss Walters?" the heavy-set man asked.
"I think so. She's out cold now and the doctor said she probably won't regain consciousness for a couple of hours. Anyway, I don't think she really knows what happened last night. She passed out before Jean went berserk."
The heavy-set man began asking Arlene a series of questions about Cynthia's behavior and mental condition. Arlene showed obvious annoyance, but answered dutifully as best she could. She could see no reason for the questions, and she had her own ideas about handling Cynthia. Arlene had worked out a tiny plot to get Cynthia's money, after which she intended to have her liquidated by the party as a security risk.
"Look, kids," Arlene said, with an exaggerated sigh, "if you don't mind, I think I'll get home, take a shower, change into something decent and then go back to the hospital. It's been a long night!"
"You've done well, Comrade Arlene," said the heavy-set man. "Get some rest; you look tired. It won't be necessary for you to return to the hospital. Rene and I will make arrangements to have Miss Walters moved to a place where we can keep a closer watch on her health."
"Oh, I don't mind," Arlene has hastily.
"I said it would not be necessary for you to return to the hospital, comrade!"
Arlene wanted to protest, but she knew better. The man from Moscow never argued-he ordered.
"Very well," she said, leaving the room as quickly as she could.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"The Agency" was busier than usual that morning. In fact, Betty Reed, secretary-receptionist whose main duty it was to keep embassy visitors from getting beyond the front office of the suite and to answer incoming calls, had never seen quite so much activity. Hal Simmons, her chief, had arrived before seven a.m., an unusual event in itself. Even more unusual, Hal Simmons had left the office and returned twice already. Betty knew he seldom, if ever, left his office once he was installed behind his long desk.
And the agents had been coming and going like they were on a fire drill. Betty could barely connect one telephone call before another button lighted up. Yes, she sighed to herself, something big must be in the wind. Maybe they'll pull Grace in to help me like they did during that crisis last year, she said to herself. Betty decided to suggest just that to her boss when he passed.
"No, Betty," he replied, heading for his office. "I think the crisis has passed now. I'm sure we'll all calm down fairly soon and you'll be able to handle it alone. Call the cable room and see if Clint is up there, will you?"
"You want Clint down here?" she asked.
"No, if he's there connect me with him on the house phone."
Clint Addison stepped through the door at just that moment. He nodded to Betty as he hurried into Simmons' office. Hal Simmons was just picking up his pipe when Clint walked in and leaned over the desk.
"Well?" Simmons asked.
"They just pulled Harry Edwards out of the Seine. Broken neck, but he'd been ripped up pretty badly on the chest. They think it might have been a woman's fingernails, but they're satisfied with LeGrande's confession."
"Are you?" Hal said, now filling his pipe from the pouch on his desk.
"I think so. It all adds up. We know they were both at Madame Cunard's," Clint said, folding his tall body into the chair opposite Hal Simmons.
"Do the police know that?"
"No. They've bought LeGrande's story about being in a bar on the Left Bank. At least for now," Clint replied. "Have you had any word on Cynthia Walters?"
"George found her in a private hospital a few hours ago. I've been down there to see her, but I'm not sure yet," Simmons said.
"Not sure about her?" Clint said, unable to understand his chief's meaning.
"I beg your pardon, Clint," Simmons said smiling. "I'm afraid this is one of those rare moments when my brain is outdistancing my tongue. Actually, I'm trying to out-think our friend Rene. Yesterday I felt sure he would replace Gina Collins with Arlene Richards, but now I think that would be a little too obvious. Arlene may well be one of their best agents, and Rene is too smart to take a chance on letting her be compromised."
"What does this have to do with Miss Walters?" Clint asked.
"Well," Simmons replied, leaning back in his chair, "they may try to send a fresh face to Washington, or use somebody who is already in a government position in Washington, like Miss Walters."
"You think they could convert her into a Communist agent?"
"It's possible, Clint. Just possible. They might try to use this sex thing and hold it over her head, and they might try to convince her she was responsible for the death of Harry Edwards. All this is supposition on my part, of course. I'm just trying to touch all the bases...."
The phone on Hal Simmons' desk buzzed and he leaned forward to answer it. Clint watched his superior's reaction to the message he was receiving. Hal's side of the conversation was limited to just a few words. "When? Uh huh. ... How? What do they think? What do you think? Okay, keep me posted." Clint watched his boss lean back and scratch his chin before he commented on the conversation.
"Jean LeGrande is dead," he said.
"How?" Clint muttered in disbelief.
"The police say it was suicide, but our man there thinks LeGrande was poisoned by our Russian friends, probably to keep him quiet. The story going out is that he was overwhelmed with guilt after the slaying of Harry Edwards. The press and public will buy it, so we'll leave it alone for now. In fact, it's probably better for everyone concerned, except Mr. LeGrande, of course. The case will die down quickly now, instead of being dragged out in the headlines through a long trial and all."
Clint let a long sigh escape from his lips.
"I suppose we should have seen all this coming," he said. "Maybe we could have done something."
"I doubt it, Clint. This is what the French call 'a crime of passion.' Our Russian friends had no idea this would happen, and neither did we. I'm afraid, though, that we will have to work fast if we are to control the future. I have a very strong hunch Miss Cynthia Walters could be the key to the future. Did you get her personnel record from Washington?"
Clint reached into a folder he had brought with him and extracted a four-page cable report. He stood up and handed it to his superior.
"It came in early this morning."
"Have you read it?" Simmons asked.
"Yes, I went over it thoroughly before I came down here. You want a brief summary?"
Simmons nodded and Clint highlighted Cynthia's life. He covered as much as he could as briefly as he could, and then Hal Simmons began asking questions.
"Any evidence of political instability anywhere?"
"None I could see, sir," Clint replied.
"Has she ever taken an active interest in politics at all?"
"No record of it. Not even a political donation on her tax reports."
"Love life?"
Clint smiled and walked to the window overlooking the embassy garden. The rain was still coming down and the leaves of the bushes bent to the ground under the weight of the water.
"Unfortunately the report is not deep enough for much in that department," Clint said. "In fact, there's not much at all there. She had a few dates with men in the State Department, but it doesn't look like these went beyond the casual stage. Of course, you and I know about the affair with Arlene here, but there's no hint of Lesbianism in the report. The reports on her work are good, but they do note evidence of emotional instability...."
"Is she patriotic?" Simmons cut in.
"I'd say yes," Clint replied, "but you have to read between the lines to get it. Maybe it's only a hunch on my part, but I'd say she likes her country and feels responsible to it. For a girl her age, she's certainly done an excellent job on the Cuban Desk."
"Is she dependable? Does she show up at work on time, that sort of thing?"
"Yes, her attendance record is excellent, and she's always on time. Takes only half an hour for lunch most of the time, and sometimes eats at her desk while she continues working," Clint responded.
"Perhaps I'd better tell you what I have in mind, Clint," Simmons said. "There isn't much time, and I can't read and digest that report before I make a decision. I think they may try to use Cynthia Walters as an agent, perhaps in this sex campaign of theirs. What I'm wondering is if we can trump their ace. Can we make a double agent out of Cynthia Walters?"
"It would be one hell of a gamble, boss," Clint said.
"The point is, Clint, we have nothing to lose. If she goes for us fine. If she doesn't, we ease her out of the government on sex charges. Either way, we win."
"Wouldn't we be better off with Arlene Richards?"
"No, Clint, I don't think so. Remember, anyone we can buy, someone else can buy away from us. When money is the only consideration, loyalty can be very expensive. And you're never sure if you're winning or losing. Besides, I'm almost positive that Rene will not move Arlene out of Paris. At least not now. And it suits me to have her right here where we can keep an eye on her. She's proven to me by the way she handled all of this that she's a pretty damned smooth operator. And she's cool, too."
"You can say that again," Clint replied with a low whistle.
Hal Simmons stood up and paced behind his desk slowly, his eyes distant in thought and his hands behind his back. Clint watched him. He picked up his pipe and absently tried to light it, then set it back down in the ash tray. Finally he turned to Clint, his face registering the fact that he had made his decision.
"Clint," he said, "unless I miss my guess, Rene will try to move Cynthia Walters to some place they can keep a close watch on her. He'll do it as quickly as he can. I need about two hours with her providing she's reasonably conscious and out of her shock enough to understand what I want to say to her. I want you to buy me those two hours."
"What do you want me to do, kidnap Rene and the whole damned group?"
"Not quite," Simmons smiled back, "but you could arrange to keep them as busy as hell for the rest of this morning, and maybe for a couple of hours this afternoon. You've got friends at the police department. How about a dope raid with some planted evidence, or a complaint on their radio equipment disturbing neighbors. Anything with lots of policemen that will keep them occupied."
Clint headed for the door with Hal Simmons right behind him.
"I think I can work out something on an illegal transmitter," he said over his shoulder. "It won't look quite so trumped up, but they'll be suspicious anyway."
"That's all right, just as long as you keep them occupied."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cynthia's mind was a whirling, swirling bowl of madness. Faces rushed at her one after the other, each one someone she vaguely recognized, but each one glaring at her with eyes that burned right through her body. She felt that the sheets were on fire, smoldering holes left where those multitude eyes bored through her.
For a while she swam in a lovely red pool. The water was red and warm, comforting and cool at the same time, but then someone jumped into the water and splashed it all over her face. She felt she would drown, until a hand that had no arm or body reached down and pulled her to safety.
Blackness was comforting to Cynthia's tortured mind. She floated through space, weightless and supported by a soft black cloud that covered her, warmed her, made her feel secure. Of course she had no body. Cynthia didn't know where her body was. All she could see of herself was a misty sub stance that floated, nestled in the black cloud. She laughed to herself when she saw herself change form and shape constantly in a rolling, swirling mist.
The first time she opened her eyes it was terrible! Everything was white and the light sent pain through her eyes to her brain. A strange man in white with a shiny circle on his forehead was leaning over her. He had no face and Cynthia laughed because she had no body. And there was that strange girl with the black hair who kept trying to whisper to her. The girl had no face and no arms.
The second time she opened her eyes was when she saw the large green bugs climbing up the white walls. They were big and terrifying, their long legs moving slowly, relentlessly upward as they climbed the wall toward the ceiling. Some of the green bugs were on the sheet, coming at her, but Cynthia couldn't protect herself. She had no hands, nor arms, nothing to brush them away! Suddenly she smiled, remembering she could become a mist and float away from them, float to her black cloud and safety.
Then came pain. Her entire body was sore, and there was a dull ache down between her buttocks. All of a sudden it dawned on Cynthia that she had her body once again. She didn't want it! Her body meant pain, and she didn't want pain. She fought to return to a mist and flee to her cloud of black, but she found she was once again connected to her body and could not leave it.
When she opened her eyes, Cynthia found herself in a strange room. At first the room blurred and Cynthia had to blink her eyes several times before everything cleared. She saw three men, two in white uniforms and one in a gray business suit. The men were all strangers.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"You've had a small accident and you're in a hospital, but you'll be fine now," one of the men in white said. "What is your name?"
"Cynthia Walters," she replied. "I work for the United States government. Am I still in Paris?"
The two men in white nodded to each other and then turned to the man in the business suit. "I think she'll be fine now, sir. We'll leave you alone with her. If you need anything, just stick your head out in the hall and call a nurse."
"Thank you," Hal Simmons replied.
The doctors left, and Hal turned to Cynthia. He pulled a chair up close to the bed and began speaking to her in a soft voice.
"Well, Cynthia, you've had quite a time for yourself. Just how much do you remember about what happened?"
Cynthia was quiet for a moment and then tears began welling in her eyes. She sobbed softly.
"Are you the police?" she asked.
"No, Cynthia, and nothing at all is going to happen to you. You're perfectly safe now, and I want you to believe I'm here to help you. You remember pretty much what happened, do you?"
"Yes," she said. "Oh, God, how could I have done those terrible things!"
"You can't entirely blame yourself, Cynthia," Hal Simmons said. "Perhaps I had better explain some things you don't know...."
Carefully, Hal Simmons took Cynthia through the entire story of who Arlene Richards was, why she had met Cynthia at the airport and why she had been assigned to seduce her, and then described the new Communist policy of using sex to embarrass the United States government.
"Then it was all deliberate!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, I'm afraid so, Cynthia. You needn't feel too badly. You weren't the first to be taken in by them, and you won't be the last, I'm afraid."
"And Harry Edwards was taken in, too!" she said.
Hal Simmons knew he was now on dangerous ground. Cynthia obviously did not know about the death of Harry Edwards or Jean LeGrande. Although she seemed to be out of shock, this could throw her back in. Hal hesitated for a moment. Time was short and he would just have to chance her reaction. Phrasing it as carefully as he possibly could, he told her about the murder and the subsequent death of Jean LeGrande. He emphasized that the Communists had poisoned LeGrande to silence him. During his description of these various events, Hal Simmons watched Cynthia carefully. He was pleased to see that her reaction was not too severe. She seemed to accept it all better than he had expected.
"I must have fainted before all this happened," she said, "but it doesn't surprise me too much. The whole thing was insane, and something horrible was bound to happen."
Simmons was further surprised by Cynthia's rapid transformation. She suddenly became very logical and business-like.
"You must be from the C.I.A., or something like that," she said.
"Let's say I work for the government," Hal replied.
"What's going to happen to me now?" she asked. "And what do you want of me? You must have some reason for being here with me now. I can't tell you anything about the Communist's plans because I don't know anything, but you must know that. Just what will happen to me?"
Hal quietly explained what he thought Rene and the group might try to do with Cynthia. He told her they would try to fix the blame for Harry's death on her, at least as far as she was concerned, and then play on her guilt to have her do their will. Once he had covered all the possible tactics they might use, he suggested his plan to her. She listened quietly, looking him straight in the eye and watching his facial expressions as he spoke.
"You crucify people for sexual behavior," she said, when he had finished, "and yet you want me to become a whore for you. How can it be right on one hand and wrong on the other?"
"I'm not sure they will want you to use sex, Cynthia," he replied. "It may be that they will simply want you to pass on information."
"But if they want me to be a whore, you want me to go along with it!" she replied. "Don't misunderstand; I see your side clearly. It just seems ironical to me that you and the others like you condemn with one breath and condone with the next. You. say the Communists are terrible to use sex like this, yet you're perfectly willing to do the very same thing."
She turned and stared at the wall, her face blank of any expression. Hal Simmons watched her closely. He had seriously underestimated the intelligence and depth of the personality he was dealing with, yet he lacked the words to explain this to her. Her questions bothered him, and he knew her words would ring in his ears for some time to come.
"Do you know what it is like?" she said, turning back to stare into his eyes. "Of course not. I'm sorry. You have your work and you do what you can with the job they give you. And perhaps you understand yourself. That's important. You see, I'm still searching for myself. I don't know who I am or why I'm here, but that wouldn't make sense to you. I know the difference between right and wrong-or at least I think I do-but I suddenly found myself liking what I knew was wrong."
She turned her head so that he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.
"Oh, what's the use," she sighed, "you wouldn't understand any of this, and I'm not sure I do."
"I think it does make sense, if that's any consolation to you," Hal Simmons said. "Our values in this world can't be rigid, and I suspect there are very few of us who truly understand ourselves."
He stood up and walked to the small window. It was raining only lightly now, more of a mist than a true rain. The sky was gray, but light spots here and there promised that the sun might work its way through before the day was over.
"You want me to be a spy-or a counterspy, or something-but what if I am a homosexual? Had you considered that?" she asked.
"What you are doesn't really matter, Cynthia," he replied. "It's what you do that counts. And perhaps you won't torture yourself needlessly as you search for your true self this way."
Arlene was furious that they had interfered with her plans for Cynthia. She was nervous from physical exhaustion and cursed Rene and his fat friend all the way home. Weighing one against the other, however, Arlene realized that she could not afford to endanger her relationship with the communists over the promise of a few thousand dollars. No, she would have to let Cynthia's money go, even though it seemed within such easy reach.
The incident, however, did cause Arlene to think seriously for the first time about the offer the Red Chinese had made her. It would be dangerous, very dangerous. If Rene or any of the others had the slightest suspicion she was working against them for the Chinese, they'd surely liquidate her without a second thought. Mr. Sung had said they would more than double her income, and Arlene liked the thought of that. After all, she asked herself, how long can I keep this up? As soon as I lose my sex appeal, they'll be through with me anyway.
She made a mental note to call Mr. Sung and take him up on his offer to talk it over. Would they expect her to go to bed with them? Arlene wasn't sure how she felt about sex with an Oriental, but after all, their money was the same as anybody else's.
Arlene soaked for an hour in a hot tub, changing the water every fifteen minutes. Her body was sore and her muscles tense. The bath relaxed her and she caught herself nodding several times. "Four hours sleep will revive me," she said aloud, as she dried her body and headed for her bedroom.
She awoke the next day, and the clock beside her bed registered noon. "My God," she said, "I've slept almost twenty-four hours!" She jumped up, took a quick shower, dressed in an expensive silk suit and head for Rene's apartment.
Finding the apartment empty, Arlene headed straight for the kitchen and looked for the plastic envelope under the ice tray where she always received her messages. There was an envelope marked Arlene, which bore the cryptic message that Rene would be out of town for several days.
Arlene was furious with herself for having slept through what might have been something important. For one thing, Rene owed her ten thousand dollars! She was fairly certain he hadn't skipped out on her, but she was still annoyed that she had missed him. She turned the ice tray around, indicating she had received the message, and drove straight to the embassy. On her way there, Arlene prepared her story for where she had been for the past thirty-six hours.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The door opened slowly and Cynthia stood framed in the light from the hall. She looked stunning in her new designer suit, a dark blue crepe that 'set her hair off in a golden radiance. Arlene couldn't believe it was the same blood-stained girl she had carried to the hospital a week before.
Arlene stood up, her pale yellow robe falling open almost to her waist and revealing that she wore nothing under it, and spread her arms wide.
"Darling!" she cried. "You look absolutely devastating!"
Cynthia stood in the doorway looking at Arlene. Although she had prepared herself for this meeting, lecturing herself that she would never let Arlene know how much she hated her, it was difficult to keep a straight face. She forced herself to smile, remembering that this was undoubtedly a test she must pass. Rene and another man had picked her up at the hospital and rushed her to a private nursing home. And even though she had been prepared for everything, it had taken every ounce of her acting ability to act and react to the things they told her. She congratulated herself that she had played her part well, that she had reluctantly let them draw her into their web. Playing the part was important to Cynthia. At the moment, it was all she had left between sanity and insanity. And now she had to face Arlene. They had her booked on a flight back to Washington the next morning, but they were "certain" she would want to see Arlene before she left Paris.
With only the briefest hesitation, Cynthia ran across the room and threw her arms around Arlene.
"Arlene," she cried, "I've been so worried about you! They wouldn't tell me anything, and I didn't know if you were dead, and I didn't know if I would ever see you again...."
"Slow down, darling," Arlene said, patting her back and squeezing the full, lush body close to hers. "You're going a mile a minute! Now, come on and sit down and tell me everything. I've been just frantic with worry about you, too!"
Arlene resented Cynthia, but she was careful not to let her emotions show. Rene had kept Cynthia out of town for three days, then calmly announced that she was becoming one of their agents. He was very uncommunicative about Cynthia and what had happened to change her so quickly. It was the first time Arlene had been left out of Rene's confidence, and she bitterly resented that. Even more important, Rene had been stalling her payment of ten thousand dollars. He told her the money had been used to pay off some French officials about some illegal transmitter and that more money would be coming in a few days. And now this assignment to make love to Cynthia while he watched from behind the two-way mirror and listened on the monitor they had installed in the room. He said it was to test Cynthia, but Arlene felt certain that it was more for his own perverted enjoyment than any test.
"Well," Cynthia said, "I suppose Rene has told you they forced me to join you."
"Forced you?" Arlene said.
"Well, I didn't have much choice, did I? With the photos they have of you and me, and the ones of my part in that orgy with Jean and Harry, they can ruin me any time they want."
Cynthia stood up and pulled the jacket to her suit off and carefully placed it on the back of the couch. She wore a very sheer nylon blouse under the jacket and her heavy breasts were plainly visible. She wore no bra.
"And, to be honest, Arlene," she continued, "I liked most of the things we did. Of course I couldn't stand Harry Edwards, but I doubt any girl could. He was a real bastard."
"Amen," sighed Arlene, remembering Harry and his crude manners.
"So, if I'm caught," Cynthia continued, "and I stand to be ruined, why not join? I don't owe my country anything, and Rene has promised me good money. I probably won't like some of the things I'll have to do, but I'd rather live like you do than land in some jail or spend the rest of my life having people look at me like I was some kind of a sexual freak."
Arlene stood up, letting her robe fall completely open so that her firm breasts and the black "V" of her crotch were plainly visible. Cynthia stared at Arlene's body and felt a quickening of her pulse. My God, she said to herself, I'm supposed to be acting! She looked at the heavy black hair at the joining of Arlene's legs and could plainly see the pink lips of her cunt. She felt a quiver between her own legs and cursed the weakness of her flesh.
Arlene spread her arms and Cynthia moved slowly forward until they folded around her.
"There's one thing I have to tell you, Arlene," Cynthia said.
"What, darling?"
"I never experienced a true orgasm before I met you. I don't know if I'm a Lesbian or not, but I know that I can't be near you without wanting you."
Arlene smiled and leaned forward, crushing her lips against Cynthia's in a tight embrace. She felt Cynthia's tongue run along her lips and then force it's way into her mouth.
Cynthia wanted to scream. She had prepared herself for this moment, convincing herself to be able to act her way through it no matter how repulsive the contact might be. And now, when the moment finally arrived, Cynthia found herself mad with desire for the brunette who had betrayed her and ruined her life. All hate, all resentment were gone. All Cynthia felt was a passionate desire to have Arlene's body against her own, their lips greedily exploring each other! The lie she had practiced over and over again about wanting Arlene was true!
She felt Arlene's firm breasts pressing against her own, the sheer nylon giving way as their nipples ground into one another. Slowly, Cynthia's hand dropped to Arlene's waist. Then she let it slip to the soft furry region that excited her so. She felt Arlene's legs part as she slipped her hungry fingers between the brunette's thighs.
Cynthia fell to her knees on the floor and pulled Arlene's thighs apart. Arlene bent her knees slightly, opening her crotch wide before Cynthia's mouth and smiled as she felt the blonde's hot tongue slip between the lips of her cunt.
