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This story is fiction, and should be treated as such.
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY,
and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an
adult, or reading sex stories upset you, do not read any further.
I am not the author. I don't have the talent.
I can only be ... "TheEditor".
Ravished Wife
By Richard Van Dorne
Chapter 1
Hobbling on one leg the fat hairy man bent to pull on one
sock, too drunk to try holding onto the bed for support. He
struggled, almost falling twice, but finally succeeded and put his
foot down with a loud thump. As he looked for the other knee-
length black sock he raised his head momentarily to grin at the
sleek young girl who lay on the bed watching him.
You fat bastard, Paula Moore thought as she smiled back at
him. She was relieved that he had turned his head away in search
of his other sock, but not half as relieved as she would be when he
left the room, after he put his money on the table, of course. She
inhaled deeply on the cigarette she was holding. The money was the
important thing, she thought. He can do anything he wants for
money ... and he had.
Paula could not ignore the burning pain that seared deep into
her ravaged rectum. She hadn't been in the business long, but she
was quickly learning the ways of "johns" who were willing to pay a
girl for any perverted obscene pleasures they desired. This fat
ugly man who now sat on the floor had not been the first to demand
something unusual of her. Some had forced her to submit to
fellatio or cunnilingus, while others had begged her to be cruel to
them, beating them with a various assortment of instruments they
had provided.
True, he hadn't been the first, but his demands had been the
worst, she thought as she watched him crawling around the floor
looking for his shorts his huge belly almost touching the carpet.
It took an ugly man to do such an ugly thing, her thoughts
continued. Paula could still feel the pain of the slap he had
given her when he had demanded that she do as he ordered. How
terrible it had been, how animalistic when he had turned her over
and suddenly thrust his finger brutally into the tight virginal
ring of her anus.
Paula tried to force the horrible picture from her mind but
could not. She remembered screaming with fear as much as pain when
he had first violated her. That was when he had slapped her with
his wide flat hand. She had tried to get away, but he had thrown
her back onto the large bed and had told her to shut up or she
would get even worse.
Worse, she thought. What could have been worse than having
that depraved creature force his fat stubby prick into me like
that?
The throbbing in her rectum would not relent and she wished
that he would hurry and leave. She inhaled again on the long
cigarette, watching him pulling on his shorts while he bent over,
unable to touch his toes because of the huge mass of flesh that he
called his overpaid stomach. Lucky for me, she thought, that his
prick hadn't been any bigger, or he might have really hurt me. She
nearly laughed as she looked at the tiny bump in his shorts. At
least Jed was a man in that respect, but in no other respect.
Paula Moore had experienced many emotions during the first
nineteen years of her life, but the strongest was hate. Two men
shared the distinction of being hated by Paula. The first was her
boss, Wade Jackson, but the second, the one who had caused all her
misfortune was Jed Dearborn.
Paula could not forget Jed for a moment, not even while she
watched the drunken man hobbling around the room with one leg in
his trousers, unable to gain his balance to put the other pantleg
over his flabby calf.
She remembered the homespun restaurant in Davenport, Iowa
where she had waited on tables and helped clean the kitchen for ten
hours a day after her parents had died when she was just barely
eighteen. She had received a few thousand dollars from the
insurance company, but by the time all the debts were settled she
had less than three thousand left and had gone to work so that she
could continue her schooling.
But Davenport was so small and so limiting for a young girl
who needed excitement. There were no boys her own age that
interested her, and the only men that did appeal to her were
already married, and therefore taboo to a girl whose strict morals
refused her access to them. She was a woman at eighteen and needed
a man, but none were available as far as she was concerned.
None were available, that is, until that hot August afternoon
when Jed walked through the door and sat down at the counter she
was serving. His blond hair was longer than most men's, but it
seemed to suit him perfectly. His entire face, perfectly chiseled,
seemed to be centered around his deep blue eyes. Paula had tried
not to stare when she brought him a glass of water, but it was
impossible. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen and she had
to look at him, secretly hoping that perhaps she would be able to
touch him.
Paula remembered him well, though her memory could not recall
any of their conversation. She inhaled the menthol cigarette again
and watched the fat man pulling his suspenders over his rounded
shoulders. There was no comparison between this ugly man and Jed
with his large muscled shoulders and slim hips, she thought, and
retreated back to her memory:
It had been Saturday when Paula met Jed, and she got off work
at three o'clock. Each word that Jed had said to her had seemed
like magic, and for some reason, she had agreed to go with him for
a drive. She pointed out parts of the rolling countryside as he
guided his new red convertible along the highway, but he hardly
listened to her. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was
entirely one-sided, his side.
Jed talked incessantly about big cities, about gambling, about
the girls he had known and all the money he had. It wasn't long
before Paula stopped talking altogether. Despite her intelligence
she believed his every word, and hung on his arm, taking it all in
as gospel. She had thought he was the most exciting, most
interesting man she had ever met, and decided that she could not
let him go.
He had talked through dinner and half the night, never
touching her, but teasing her with words she had long since
forgotten. But by dawn she was completely naked in his motel room,
her virginity gone and her whole being fulfilled.
Paula thought about that bright morning as she watched the fat
man tie the broad striped silk tie around his bulging throat. She
remembered Jed fixing his own tie as she lay nude on the warm
sheets, her firm breasts rising with her breath. She remembered
running her slender fingers along the supple flesh of her torso,
teasing herself with her own touch. It was that morning that Jed
had made his proposal to take her to Miami. They could be married
as soon as they arrived and live together forever as man and wife.
Paula felt a sharp pain of anger rise in her breasts. That
bastard! Jed's promise was as full of hot air as everything else
he had said. After she drew all of her savings out of the
Davenport Bank Monday morning, they had driven day and night to
reach Miami.
For more than two weeks they played in bed and in town. But
Jed kept putting off the marriage, saying that his doctor had to
run special blood tests to be sure there was nothing wrong with
him. Paula had believed him and even felt sorry for him, fearful
that something might really be wrong with his health.
All those hours for two weeks, gambling and dining and
drinking on her money, Jed saying that he had to wait for a
transfer of funds from his San Francisco account, all that time for
nothing! She easily remembered that terrible morning Jed had left
the room to get a morning paper. When he hadn't come back by noon,
she began to worry and by midnight was frantic with fear that
something had happened to him.
She had called the police and even gone out looking for him
herself, but to no avail. For three days she waited for him to
return, drinking and crying the whole time.
Finally, on the fourth morning, the hotel manager came to the
door with the bill. He told her she had to pay the balance before
he could let her stay any longer. Paula had opened her purse and
saw her wallet was empty. Jed had taken every dollar she had
hidden in the secret compartment and now the manager was demanding
six hundred dollars!
Six hundred dollars, she thought, as she watched her customer
put a crisp hundred dollar bill on the table beside the bed. She
had lost more than the six hundred for the hotel bill that morning.
The obese stranger said something Paula did not hear and left
the room and she immediately got out of bed and walked gingerly
toward the bathroom. Her anus burned with pain, and she was sure
it was bleeding.
Once in the bathroom, she put out her cigarette and started
the water roaring. The hotter the better, she thought. That's
what Wade had told her. Wade!
Watching the bathwater, she remembered what the hotel manager
had told her. There was one way she could raise the money ...
yeah, one way, Wade Jackson. With hardly any hesitation she had
allowed the manager to call Wade for her, and explain the whole
situation. Half an hour later he had arrived with the six hundred
dollars cash, told her to pack her things and took her from the
hotel to his car.
Still half in tears over Jed, she wasn't aware of what was
happening to her when Wade took her to his penthouse apartment and
told her to unpack. Shocked, she refused at first, but he told her
he needed a maid, and she could work off the money she had owed
him.
Finally, she consented, thinking that she could work it off as
his maid, but two days later she discovered differently, when he
came into her room and raped her. Unable to resist for long, she
succumbed to his rape and spent the next two weeks in his bed,
learning more about sex than most women learn in a lifetime.
She didn't love Wade, but she had come to like him for his
kindness to her, such as flowers, a fur coat and jewelry. At the
time it didn't seem to be too bad; she had become his mistress, and
he did treat her well taking her with him wherever he went. She
was nurturing her hatred for Jed, but it didn't possess her, not
until she found out what Wade really wanted.
Paula tried not to think about it, but when she gently lowered
herself into the tub, the pain forced her memory to work. The hot
water on her ruptured anus seemed to burn throughout her entire
body. "The bastards!" she said aloud, thinking of Jed and Wade as
the pain seared through her abdomen and down into her tortured
rectum. No one on earth could be worse than those two, she
thought.
Everything with Wade had been fine until the night he brought
a guest to the apartment and left the man alone with her. She
didn't know his name, but when he kept making advances to her and
she refused he got angry and told her that he had paid Wade a
hundred dollars for her, and he was going to get his money's worth.
Well, he got his money's worth, she thought bitterly, and so
had many other strange men since that night. The only difference
was that now Paula got half of all she made. She was in constant
demand, in so much demand that Wade had rented a special apartment
for her to work in as well as one to live in. Paula would
entertain usually three or four times a night at generally fifty to
a hundred dollars a trick, depending on what they wanted.
But it was no kind of life for her. She wanted out so badly
and had begged Wade again and again for release, but he only
threatened her with prison and disgrace. If she didn't play his
game, everyone in Davenport and Miami would know what Paula Moore
did for a living.
She sat soaking in the tub, slowly washing her breasts and
upper torso with a thickly lathered washrag. This is living? she
thought. This is a living death, and I want out. But how? She
couldn't do it alone, and most men she met would scorn her, and any
man she would meet would probably want money, then leave her no
better off than she was. There had to be some kind of man for her,
someone who would care enough to take her out of this hell and into
a real life.
There just had to be.
Chapter 2
Sammy Wynn fumbled in his pocket for a book of matches, trying
to ignore the greasy odor of the burning hamburger that was cooking
on the grill. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to get the
waitress's attention, and then she had fouled up his order so that
he had to tell her three times that he wanted a hamburger with no
catsup.
He nervously lit his cigarette and watched her put catsup on
the burned hamburger bun, spilling some on herself at the same
time. Christ, he thought, what the hell am I doing here?
Sammy had asked himself that question nearly every day for ten
years, ever since the night he and his older brother had been
caught stealing two cases of beer from an unattended truck. He was
twelve years old that night, but with the arrival of two uniformed
policemen, he started a record of arrests that would follow him
wherever he went.
He picked up the hamburger, remembering his mother's reaction
to his minor crime. She had high hopes for him, having already
given up on his brother. So when the pair was arrested she cried
for days over Sammy. He tried to console her but to no avail. She
repeatedly called him jailbird and thief.
Stealing the beer had only been a prank, but with his mother's
constant ribbing and the fact that word of his arrest had spread
through the overcrowded school he attended, it soon became a badge
of honor. Sammy had become a man in the eyes of his peers, a man
who had stolen, a man with a record. He tried to resist their
praise, but his efforts were hopeless. After his arrest he had
become a celebrity, constantly sought after to tell his story of
crime and arrest, and the brutality of the police.
He tried to get his school work done, and seemed to possess a
great deal more ability than his fellows, but his popularity
prevented his study. They demanded his company, revering him as a
leader in their impoverished community of underprivileged boys,
many of whom would become criminals themselves in a few short
years. His studies took second place to his role as a celebrity,
and soon were neglected altogether.
By the time Sammy was sixteen it was hopeless. He had to quit
school to help his mother support his five younger brothers, all of
whom ate more than their share, but all of them studied, and none
of them stole. When he quit school he thought he would return
within a year, but naturally he didn't. Life in Chicago's south
side offered nothing to a young man with little money. He was able
to shoot a little pool, and gamble in back alley crap games, but
nothing else was left.
There were no girls who could share his thoughts. Most of
them had neither the intelligence nor the interest to hear anything
but stories of excitement and brushes with the law. Sammy's active
mind had no use for them. He refused to take drugs, and more times
than he could count, he had refused to take part in crimes that his
cronies had offered him a piece of. It was hard enough to get a
job without adding more arrests to his record.
Sammy bit into a soggy potato chip as he thought about his
past life in the slums. The food in this restaurant was much the
same as that in Chicago, except that there were less flies for some
reason. He remembered the different warehouse jobs he had held,
and the miserable year he had spent in the packing house, cleaning
the stomachs of slaughtered cows. He could still recall the smell
vividly.
He remembered the night he had come home, the slaughterhouse
smell all over his clothes, to find his mother lying on the kitchen
floor. He had rushed to her and lifted her limp head but it was
too late to do more than call the emergency rescue squad. If he
had had a father it never would have happened, he thought bitterly,
but it had.
His mother had worked herself half to death trying to support
her children. Now she needed support, especially for the hospital
bills. It was then, at eighteen, that Sammy turned to crime for
his own self-support as well as hers.
At first he tried burglary. His quick mind enabled him to
form almost elaborate plans, and his physical agility allowed him
access to places where most thieves would not have tried. But the
business was too risky, and after a year he gave it up, trying
afterwards to establish a small protection racket in the
surrounding neighborhoods.
He made enough money to get by, and though his mother was out
of the hospital, she could not work at all, forcing him to support
the whole family. Sammy was smart enough, though, to make deals
with the syndicate, and keep himself out of trouble with them. But
soon, his take was reduced further and further as the syndicate
took a larger and larger percentage of his illicit earnings.
The bastards, Sammy thought, as he wiped the catsup off his
chin and reached for another cigarette. They had forced him to
expand further until he was carrying a pistol and planning
robberies. Finally, just a week before his twenty-second birthday,
Sammy and two friends held up a jewelry store in broad daylight.
They didn't have a chance. One was shot leaving, the store,
and the other was tackled by a burly policeman. Sammy had run for
blocks before he stopped. Time had ran out for him and he had to
leave town.
That's what did it, he thought angrily, a lousy jewelry store
stick-up and I'm forced out of town like a hunted animal. He
didn't think his friends would tell who he was, but he couldn't
have taken the chance.
On the train out of Chicago he had read a tourist's add for
the glamorous city of Miami. It was there he had thought he could
make a fresh start.
Fresh start, Bull! he thought as he left the restaurant.
Wade Jackson gave me a fresh start alright, a fresh start on crime.
Sammy had met Wade on his first night in Miami two weeks ago.
The pair had a good time with a couple of Wade's girlfriends, and
Sammy thought he was a pretty fair sport. It was only after Sammy
had told him that he needed a job that he discovered Wade's true
business.
But after all, it was a job, and for the time being, Sammy
needed the money.
Wade Jackson's enterprise enveloped every hotel and nearly all
the motels in Miami. Miami, the convention city, had more tourists
and conventioneers than any one man could handle, but Wade made the
effort anyway. He controlled the lives of over a hundred
prostitutes in every part of the city. They catered strictly
within certain areas, and each was expected to make a quota of
"tricks" each week, some more than others. Often Wade's contacts
made the arrangements for the girls, but many were on their own.
They were all carefully watched and had to account for every cent
they were suspected of making. If they didn't make quota, or held
out some of the money, they were dealt with severely.
A few of the girls knew each other, meeting at some of Wade's
'specially arranged parties, but no one person know enough to
really hurt the organization.
Sammy, himself, had already come into contact with twenty-one
of the girls; he was a collector. Each week he was responsible to
pick up twenty-five thousand dollars in cash from his twenty-five
girls, his reward being one percent of the take, which came to a
nice round two hundred and fifty dollars a week. In a few months
he would be able to quit and find something else, including
different restaurants to eat in.
But for now, he had four more collections to make before his
first week on the job was finished. He looked at the addresses in
his notebook and started the car. With luck he could be finished
in two hours.
Chapter 3
"Breakfast is ready," Pamela Lee called up the stairs.
Jeff didn't answer his wife's call., but walked down the
stairs, stopping for a moment in front of a mirror to straighten
his tie. At forty he already had a distinguishing streak of grey
at his temples that offset his youthful-looking face. He thought
that the grey was one of his rewards for being the managing editor
of one of Miami's largest newspapers. His professionalism had
earned him an impeccable reputation across the country, as well as
in the city, a reputation he sometimes regretted.
"Hi, Honey," he greeted his wife as he entered the dining
room, and looked at her admiringly.
Though ten years younger than her husband, Pamela made an
almost perfect wife. She loved her husband as much as he loved
her, and focused all of her concern around him and their life
together.
They had met in Washington, had dated for nearly a year before
they were married. And each day of the past three years had been
good to them both, even through the small quarrels that all married
people suffer.
Pamela ensured good food, a clean house and good company for
her husband without fail. Only one point of friction remained
between them. Her concern for social acceptance. She felt it
proper that they be a part of the same circle of socially elite
people that she had known before they were married. She had argued
that it was important for his work, but he countered that he didn't
give a damn. Pamela knew it irritated him, but thought she was
right and would not relent, though she tried not to bring the
subject into conversation too often. She hoped to convert him by a
soft-sell technique.
But society pages were the furthest from Jeff's mind as he sat
at the table and unfolded his napkin. For more than two years,
ever since he had been offered the job in Miami, Jeff had been
occupied by one thought: prostitution.
He examined his poached egg and began to eat. His morning
occupation consisted of scanning his own paper's night edition,
then his competitors' products, making mental notes of errors in
each between bites of breakfast.
"Hmmf," he grunted after he finished and picked up his coffee
cup. There had been nothing of any consequence in any of the
papers, with the exception of the editorials in his own. I wish no
news were really good news, he thought.
Every morning Pamela watched him read the papers and wolf down
his breakfast, while she sat silently across from him. She knew
that he didn't want to be disturbed, and so never said anything
until he finished reading and gave his usual, "Hmmf." She knew now,
that he was ready for conversation.
"What's the matter, Jeff," she asked as she did every morning.
"The same old thing," he replied, not really wanting to talk.
"How's your other work going then," she asked, slightly
annoyed by his curt answer.
"Don't get me started on that so early," he answered her, not
wanting to get into an argument. Pamela would always listen, he
thought, but it all goes right over her head. She was too naive to
believe that anything like organized prostitution would take place
in Miami.
"Please," she asked, "I want to know."
"Alright," he said, "You asked for it. Yesterday I finally
got a name. Not just any name, but the name of the head of this
organization that you don't think exists."
Pamela looked at him attentively, though she didn't really
care about the so-called syndicate because she had made up her mind
that there was no such thing.
"Ready for a shock," he continued. "Try Wade Jackson."
Pamela uttered an audible gasp and for a moment was stunned.
Then it came to her; he was only joking, and she began to laugh.
"Think it's funny?" he asked, his brow furrowed in growing
anger.
"But Jeff, he's no criminal. Whyóówhy Wade Jackson donates
thousands of dollars to charities each year. I ought to know, I'm
on enough committees. Wade Jackson, really!"
Just like a woman, Jeff thought. Totally illogical, and won't
believe anything she doesn't want to.
"He's not the only one," he told her. "Why do you think none
of the money in town will give me any support?"
But Pamela wasn't listening. If Jeff was going to behave like
this, then she wouldn't hear a word he said. After all, men like
Wade Jackson don't give money to the needy and helpless, then turn
around and operate prostitution rings. It was too ridiculous to
even consider.
But Jeff had started, and nothing would stop him until he was
finished. "Most of your precious society friends who have any
political or business control don't want me to stop Jackson. I've
seen every one possible, and only one will help. Of course, they
won't say no, but they won't help either.
"If you have any idea of how much tourist money flows through
this city each week, you wouldn't believe it. But that's not all,
damnit. Jackson is raking off millions each year from his girls
and gives a pittance to the right people and a few charities,
justifying his position as a man of good standing.
"Miami could live more than well enough off of legitimate
tourist money and taxes, but people like Jackson are ruining it.
And I'll be goddamned if I'm going to raise my kids in a town that
will turn to filth if it isn't stopped!"
At Jeff's "children" Pamela awoke from her dreams of the
winter ball. She and Jeff both wanted children, but the problem
for her was the sexual intercourse. Pamela thought she enjoyed it
with Jeff, but surely not as much as he did. Her mother had told
her all about the ugly things that men had done to women, and
Pamela had subconsciously hidden the words, but not the feelings.
She felt that more than once a week was excessive, even though Jeff
demanded more. She knew that once they had a baby they could cut
down on their sexual activity and he wouldn't object.
"I just wish you would come out of the clouds and try to
understand," he almost pleaded with her. "Too many people have
ignored the problem for too long, and if they continue there's just
no telling what might happen."
"Jeff, I do try to understand, but are you sure you're on the
right track?"
Jeff sighed and shrugged his shoulders. It's no use, he
thought as he got up from the table and went to the closet for his
jacket. It's not her fault she doesn't understand, but for
Christ's sake ...
"Have a good day," she said as she kissed him softly on the
cheek, her right arm holding his waist.
"You, too," he replied and walked out the door toward his car.
Why can't they all understand, he thought as he pulled out of
the driveway. The city's businesses and a few money hungry men are
either too afraid or too greedy to do something about Jackson, and
the rest of them are like Pam. If she and her friends at the
country club could see some of the things I have seen at night,
they might change their minds.
Jeff kept driving toward the office where he would put in an
appearance before continuing to follow more leads that he had
gotten the night before. He thought about his wife and her archaic
idea that no one with money could be bad. If only he could
convince her without shocking her too much. The conventions could
be the answer, and the most important of all conventions, the
National Republican Party Convention, was in town. If he were to
Lake Pamela with him that evening she could see what happens
afterwards in hotel rooms, or at least in the bars. But then, it
might be too much too soon. There must be something to make her
see, but what?
Chapter 4
"Paula Moore," Sammy said aloud as he sat in his car in front
of one of the larger hotels. He was to meet her in the cocktail
lounge and wait if she wasn't there.
She's probably like the rest, he thought as he walked through
the revolving door and headed toward the bar. Sammy had seen
twenty-four girls during the week, and none of them were beautiful,
though some were attractive. He wondered how they got the prices
they asked for. Even the better looking ones wouldn't be accepted
in any beauty contest, that was for goddamn sure, he thought.
In a moment he entered the lounge and waited for his eyes to
adjust to the blue darkness. There were two men sitting at one end
of the long bar, glancing at a single girl who sat near the center.
Their conversation was half whispered, but anyone could tell they
were talking about the dark-haired girl. Eager to get this last
confrontation over with he walked toward her swiftly, hoping that
she was the one.
"Paula Moore?" he asked, expecting to see another thirty-year-
old woman who had been through too much.
Sammy barely heard her say, "Yes?"
Even in the half-light of the cocktail lounge he could see
that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. She wore no
more make-up than a normal woman, and had accented every feature of
her near-perfect face. He could see the straight line of her
finely chiseled nose and the outline of her soft, almost glowing
cheeks.
"Yes," she said again, "I'm Paula Moore. What do you want?"
Sammy could hardly speak as he watched her lips stop speaking
and close in puzzled silence. His eyes followed her chin and the
sleek line of her neck before he caught hold of himself.
"I'm S-Sammy Wynn," he finally said.
"Are you sure," she said sarcastically, pleased with herself.
"I'm from Wade," Sammy said immediately, wanting to slap her
back for being so quick with him.
He was almost pleased with himself until he saw her face drop
its smiling mask and almost tremble.
He didn't want to hurt her, not a girl as beautiful as this.
"Don't be afraid," he told her. "Come on, let's sit in a
booth."
Paula obeyed as if she were a well-trained puppy, and quickly
followed him to a nearby booth. She nearly gasped aloud when he
stopped and offered her a seat before sitting himself. None of
Wade's hoods had ever been polite to her. Most of them treated her
like a common streetwalker, and in fact, had all taken her services
at one time or another. It was in their unspoken contract, and she
could do nothing about it.
Paula watched him curiously as he called to the cocktail
waitress and ordered two scotch and waters before she could
protest. As soon as the cocktail waitress left she told him that
she couldn't drink anything but tea while she was on duty.
"Don't worry about it," Sammy replied. "I'm not going to tell
anyone about it, if you won't."
This is too much, she thought, but then, he is awfully young,
almost as young as I am. Her mind wondered about Sammy as they
waited for their drinks, which were delivered shortly. Neither of
them spoke, each waiting for the other to make a move. Sammy, his
eyes glued to the sensuous woman across from him, had nothing to
say. He only wanted to look, while Paula, at the same time, was
curious about Wade's new hireling, but was unsure of herself.
Tonight was pickup night for her money, yet the young man had said
nothing. He seemed polite, she thought, and much too young to be
working for Wade, besides, she seemed to see a glimmer of
intelligence behind his eyes. Finally she spoke:
"Did Wade send you to tell me something?"
"You're beautiful," he answered in his South Chicago accent.
"Wade said that?" she burst out laughing.
Sammy flushed and a broad grin spread across his handsome
young face. He was embarrassed by his awkwardness, but pleased
that she laughed, and he joined her laughter.
"N-No," he finally managed through his laughter. "I mean, I
think you're beautiful."
Pamela stopped laughing and looked at the young man, one hand
resting on her half-exposed full breast. He's really serious, she
thought. I'm a prostitute sitting in a bar waiting for a customer,
and he's serious.
"Why, thank you," she said in astonishment.
If he were any of the others, she thought, he would just be on
the make, wanting her body, and willing to pay for it. But he's
different, and she knew she was right.
She raised her glass and toasted, "To you."
Sammy couldn't stop smiling, pleased that she seemed to like
him, and that she didn't think he was like the rest of Wade's
henchmen. Wade crossed his mind, and he remembered why he had
come. If she's going to like me, he thought, I'll have to be
honest.
Paula put her drink on the table and was surprised when Sammy
said, "I'd better tell you right now that I'm here for the
collection."
"Oh," she said, pretending that she was sure of it all the
time. So maybe he was like the rest of them after all.
Quickly, before she could open her purse to give him her
week's take, he spoke again. "I-I don't want you to think I'm like
the rest of Wade's men," he said, almost pleading for acceptance.
"I just need the money right now, and as soon as I make enough,
I'll quit."
"I understand," she said, wanting to believe him, but sorry
that he was so naive.
"No you don't," he said, almost angrily. "You don't
understand Chicago, or slums, or what happens to people who never
have anything. I never wanted to be working for someone like Wade.
I never wanted to have anything to do with crime. It's just that,
well ..."
And Sammy continued to talk for almost an hour, stopping only
long enough to order more drinks. He had never been able to talk
to anyone before, especially a girl, but this one seemed different.
She listened, and he thought that she understood as he poured out
the years of bitterness, the years that he spent pretending to be a
hero because he had stolen a case of beer once. He told her the
whole story, his voice angry at times, sad at others. No one had
known Sammy Wynn before, but he wanted her to know him.
"... And so," he continued, "I never finished school, never
had a chance to go to college. But I suppose, even if I had
finished high school, I wouldn't have had the money to go to
college."
Paula stared at him, no words coming from her lips. She could
feel the salty tears that had formed in her eyes. Here was someone
who shared something with her. She knew his pain and felt his
losses, losses that, though not exactly like hers, had had the same
effect on his life. They were two people who had not been masters
of their own lives. Circumstances beyond their control had brought
them together, under Wade Jackson, to sit together in a dimly lit
cocktail lounge and communicate like human beings.
"Oh, Sammy," she whispered, and put out her hand to touch his.
"If only I could tell you ..."
"You can," he said, knowing that they had found something
together. "Try it. I just found out that telling someone you
trust helps and I'm glad I told you. Go ahead and try."
Slowly at first she began to speak, afraid that he might not
understand as she had. She began with her father's death, the job,
and then faltered when she started to talk about Jed Dearborn.
But, when she looked at Sammy, she stopped hesitating and told him
the whole story, right up to the present.
"Well," she said when she had finished. "What do you think?"
"Not, what do I think," he said, "But how do you feel?"
Paula thought for a moment. How do I feel? The hate was
gone. That's right, the hate is gone. When her mind pictured Jed
and Wade, she could only feel pity for them, sharpened by a tinge
of disgust, but at least no more hate.
"I feel like a weight has been taken off me," she told Sammy
in amazement. "It's almost too good to be true."
More than two hours had passed since they had ordered drinks
and began talking. Sammy's eyes had roamed over every inch of her
that he could see, savoring the fine smooth skin of her breasts
that lay half-exposed from her low-cut dress, displaying their firm
fullness. He had heard every word she had said, but his mind could
not refuse his imagined pleasures of her luscious body. He
watched, listened and learned more about her, feeling more and more
emotion for her until he could no longer stand it.
During a pause in their conversation he finally blurted, "If
you weren't ... I mean ... If I had the money ... I'd," he groped
for the words, "I'd like to make love with you."
Paula looked up from her drink, surprised that he would say
such a thing, but when she saw his blushing face, she knew what he
meant. How else, she thought, could he tell me he cared for me.
His talk had mentioned girls only casually. He's probably never
had a steady girl friend, so how would he know how to tell me, a
whore, he cares?
"Why, Sammy?" she asked, wanting to see if he could answer to
satisfy her.
"I don't know," he replied. "I mean, it's not like you think.
I don't want you like all ..."
"Like all those other men, Sammy?"
"Yeah, I mean, no, not like them. I know I haven't known you
very long," he said, not knowing that she thought his little speech
was cute, "But I think I know you pretty good and, well, I like
you."
Sammy stopped talking and looked like he had been deflated
from the effort. He had never told any girl that he cared for her
before, and the commitment had been almost too much for him. He
was afraid she would react differently, either thinking that he was
just looking for a piece of tail, or that she didn't like him,
really, and would reject him. Silently he watched for her
reaction.
"You look like you've just been busted," she said smiling at
him.
Sammy sat up a little, not sure if she were teasing him or
not. He was too unsure of himself to know that she did care, and
was touched by the way he had blurted out his confession.
"Are you afraid I'll turn you down," she asked him. "Don't be
ridiculous. I may be in for trouble for it, but I think that after
talking with you for the last two hours I should be able to judge
not only you, but my own feelings."
Sammy's face became all grin as she talked. He wasn't going
to be rejected. They would be able to make love, maybe on her day
off, which wouldn't be until the convention was over, but be could
wait. He could wait a long time for a beautiful girl like her.
"And, well," she continued. "We're spending too much of your
money buying drinks here. Let's drive over to my place."
Unbelievable! She wanted him too, and tonight, not in a week.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and a hint of desire. He wanted
her, and wanted her badly. Maybe this was his fresh start.
Misunderstanding his expression she said, "Don't worry about
the syndicate. I make a hell of a lot more money than they think I
do and it'll be no problem at all to take a few bucks extra and
tell them I worked all night."
"No," he interrupted. "I didn't think that, I just ..."
"Paula!" a voice from the bar yelled. "Telephone."
She started to stand and Sammy got up with her, picking up her
coat. "No, wait," she said. "I'll have to answer it, they know
I'm here."
Sammy knew exactly what she meant. Each girl who worked for
Jackson had a specific area of responsibility, a place where she
would work from and could be contacted if not at home, or wherever
she took her customers. It reminded him that she was, after all,
still a hooker, no matter how beautiful, or how wonderful he
thought she was, she was still a prostitute. But for the moment,
he didn't care, he cared for her more than he had for any girl he
had ever met, and what she did for a living could be either ignored
or changed. His thoughts raced as he watched her firm sensuous
buttocks move in perfect rhythm as she walked to the telephone.
"Hello," she said into the receiver, "This is Paula."
"Hi, Baby, Red."
Red, she thought, big ugly Red, one of Wade's "in crowd." She
remembered him from the first, always hanging around, guarding
Wade's precious body, and when Wade had turned her out, Red had
been one of the first of the gang to take advantage of her new
business. He had been rough and surly with her, and left her in a
great deal of pain. But she couldn't hate him either, not since
meeting Sammy. He was just another blob among the many blobs in
her life.
"How's business tonight," he asked, wanting her to remember
his superiority.
"Fair," she answered, wanting to say as little as she could to
him.
"Well, I'm gonna make it better for ya," he continued. "We've
lined up a helluva trick for ya. He's willin' to pay two bills for
just an hour, so put on some fresh makeup and be down here right
away."
Not now, she thought. "But, Red, I've got another big one
right here, and I don't want to turn him down."
"I don't give a rat's ass," he said. "These is orders from
the boss!"
"Alright," she said, hoping to hang up immediately.
"One more thing, Baby. Has that new collector been around
yet?"
"He just left," she lied. "He said he had to check on
something before he could get back to turn the money in."
"Good," he said, sure that he had a good worker in the young
Sammy. "See ya in fifteen minutes," and he hung up.
Paula stood for a moment with the phone still at her ear.
When Red told her to be somewhere she had to be there, or suffer a
beating like she had when she refused one time before. She
remembered they had caught her at the airport and taken her back to
Wade's where after four of them had used her, they beat her so
badly she couldn't work for three weeks. If they found out that
she would refuse to be with Sammy, especially for nothing, it could
be worse, maybe for both of them.
"Who was that," Sammy's voice said from behind her.
"Oh, Sammy," she cried, turning to bury her head against his
strong shoulder. "That was Red," she said starting to cry. "He
said there's a customer for me, one that I have to see ..." Her
voice broke off, choked with emotion.
There's no way out, she thought, trying to find a way to
explain to the first man who had moved her in a long time that she
must go, or face the consequences. She knew that she had done the
right thing to tell Sammy, though she didn't want him to be hurt,
and didn't want him to remember that she was still nothing but a
prostitute.
If he could only understand what they would do to me, she
thought. If he could only see what I had looked like when they had
finished with me before. I can't lie to him, her mind rationalized
through the veil of tears. We've got to start off right.
"Are-are you going?" he asked, his own throat tight, trying to
hold back a choking sob. He knew the answer before he had asked,
but one last ray of hope held him, pleading with an unknown force
to change what was happening.
"Oh, Sammy," she cried again, not seeing that the bartender
stood nearby, listening to every word.
"Come on," he said roughly. "I'll drive you over."
"You're so sweet," she said. "But it would be better if I
took a cab. I'd better just go alone."
Sammy knew that she didn't want to go, but knew also, that she
must. He was too new in town, and she meant too much to him to be
hurt for disobeying orders. His heart went out for her and her
plight, more than for his own temporary loss, but he held himself
back.
"I'll walk you out then," he said, controlling his voice.
Without answering she allowed him to help her with her coat,
all the time thinking of what she must go through. She remembered
the fat ugly man from the night before, the one who had sodomized
her for the first time, forcing her to do things that went against
her very nature, degrading her in her own eyes. A tool, that's
what I am, she thought bitterly, nothing more than a fucking
machine for terrible old men who can't get a girl any other way. I
might as well have never been born for all the good I've done
myself. How stupid! Why couldn't I have met Sammy a year and a
half ago? Why did it have to be now, as a whore peddling her wares
in a bar?
Sammy knew what she was thinking as they walked outside and he
hailed a cab, but couldn't find words to console her. If there
were only a way to be free, a way to control my own life as well as
hers, he thought. Then it would be different, and we wouldn't have
to bow to anyone.
Paula got into the taxi he had called with a shrill whistle
and gave the driver an address. She didn't want to look at Sammy,
or say goodbye, but she couldn't possibly leave without something,
she thought.
"Will you wait for me," she asked. "I know it's too much to
ask, but ..."
His voice cut her off, "Of course, I'll wait," he said,
controlling his feelings, trying to make her feel that it would be
alright.
He recognized his anger, but contained it, not giving her the
slightest idea how he felt. If she really wants to come back, he
thought, then she will. But he couldn't get the picture of her
being with another man out of his mind, no matter how well he tried
to rationalize the situation.
Sammy stepped back from the curb as the yellow cab pulled
away. He could see her tears as she turned and waved back at him,
blowing a small but meaningful kiss at him as the taxi turned the
corner.
Well, fuck it! he thought and turned back toward the bar.
She's gone and I couldn't change it, so what the hell, I'll just
get drunk, he declared silently to himself.
"Double scotch and a water back," he called to the bartender
as he re-entered the cocktail lounge.
The two men sitting at the bar watched him with interest as he
stumbled past them, already half drunk from the previous two hours
drinking. If I'm gonna get drunk, he thought glancing at the two
men, I'm gonna do it right.
The drink went down fast and hard and he chased it with a
large gulp of ice water, trying not to think of the girl he had
just seen drive away.
But in the taxi just a few blocks away, Paula fought with
herself in mute anger and frustration. She kept thinking of what
Wade's henchmen might do to her, knowing that it would be much
worse than the beating she had received months before. But her
mind could not free itself from Sammy's grip. He's so wonderful
and kind, she thought. I know he's afraid for me, and he doesn't
want to see me hurt. Oh, God, I just can't!
"Driver," she said, urgency straining in her voice. "Driver,
take me back to the hotel!"
There, she thought, I've done it and God help me, she added in
silent prayer. She knew she wouldn't back out now, not after
feeling the relief that was flooding through her firm round
breasts. She had made the decision and would stick with it, and
stick with Sammy. I'll do anything for him, she thought as the
taxi pulled up in front of the hotel.
She nearly jumped out, throwing a five dollar bill on the
front seat and not waiting for the change as she ran through the
revolving door and headed for the open door of the cocktail lounge.
"Sammy!" she cried as she burst through the door into the
darkness.
Sitting at the bar hunched over his third double scotch in
almost as many minutes, Sammy was startled to hear her unexpected
voice. For a split second he thought he was hearing things, but he
had to turn around to be sure.
It was true!
Paula stood silhouetted in the doorway, tears streaming down
her face. Sammy looked only long enough to be sure that he wasn't
seeing an alcohol fogged mirage then jumped off the stool and ran
to her.
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy!" she cried, throwing her arms around his
neck.
She felt complete, and sure that she had made the right
decision as she felt his closeness. It was so good to feel a man
who cared, a man who could love her for herself and not just her
body, she thought ecstatically.
Wanting him as she had no other man, Paula held him tighter
and pressed her lips to his, tasting the heavy sting of scotch in
his mouth as she plunged her eager tongue into his mouth and
brushed the wet insides of his lips, trying to tell him that she
was his. Paula and Sammy, she thought. No, Sammy and Paula; that
was better.
After a long extended kiss, Sammy pulled back and held her
soft face gently in his cupped hands.
"I can't believe it," he said. "It's too ..."
"Don't say anything now," she interrupted. "I want you so
badly. Please, take me home."
Their arms around each other, they walked slowly out of the
bar, knowing that they needn't hurry now, that they would have all
night. They didn't, however, know that every word they had said
had been carefully overheard by George, the bartender; every word
that he would later remember when asked.
* * *
The key clicked in the metal lock and the door swung open.
Sammy stood back and let Paula enter He followed her in, carefully
looking at the decor, surprised that her apartment was decorated in
Early American, neat and expensive.
"I'll be just a minute," she said without turning around. "I
want to change first, so fix yourself a drink and one for me too."
He did as she asked and then walked around the apartment,
examining everything carefully, curious about the things that she
hadn't told him, things that he must learn for himself.
"Like it?" she asked, coming back into the room in a bright
red robe. "I've decorated everything myself."
"It's nice," he said, hesitating to say anything more.
Sammy could not help thinking that this was where she had had
so many men in her bed, the same bed that he was going to make love
to her in.
Sensing that something was wrong Paula walked to him and put
both arms around his neck, and drew his whole body to her, at the
same time inserting one leg between his. She could feel his tight,
muscular thighs and the bulge of his penis, still soft, yet slowly
filling with blood, growing with each breath.
He could smell the soft aroma of her hair as she crushed her
lips to his. It had been so long since he had had a woman, and
never before had he wanted a girl as much as he wanted Paula. He
inhaled deeply, then let go of his grip on her. He couldn't help
thinking that this was where she did her work, just beyond the
bedroom door. There were too many thoughts running through his
head each contradicting the other. He wanted to climb into bed
with her and make love as wildly as he could, and yet at the same
time he couldn't forget all the others, the others who had paid her
for screwing her.
"Let's have some coffee," he said suddenly.
Surprised, Paula let go of him and agreed to make some. Her
intuition told her that he was being reserved, but she didn't know
why. Perhaps, she thought, he's got a sex problem, or maybe he's
just afraid. She giggled slightly, thinking how nice it would be
if he really were afraid.
"What's funny?" he asked, thinking that she might be laughing
at him.
"Oh, nothing," she replied. "You're just sweet, that's all."
Sammy smiled and followed her into the kitchen, watching the
graceful movements of her sleek young body as she walked, almost
bouncing. She's really somethin', he thought, trying to remember
if he had ever made love to a woman as beautiful and sensuous as
Paula.
Minutes later she poured hot black coffee from the ceramic
pot. "Black?" she asked, turning to face him.
"That's fine," he answered, trying to think of something to
say to her, something that would relieve the tension he felt both
in his mind and between his thighs.
"Come on," she said, breaking the momentary silence. "I've
got to wash all this makeup off, and I don't want to leave you even
for a minute."
Sammy obeyed and followed her through the bedroom to the large
white bathroom that she had decorated with prints of movie stars.
He stood quietly, looking at the prints while she turned the water
on in the basin.
"Have a seat," she said gaily, pointing to the toilet with a
dramatic gesture.
Sammy grinned and sat down, feeling awkward at being in her
bathroom while she was there.
"Those a hobby?" he asked, pointing at the pictures.
"No, not really. I got them on sale, and couldn't think of
any other place to put them."
Sammy said nothing as he watched her bend over the washbasin
and begin soaping the makeup away from her face. His eyes took
careful note of her features, trying to think of someone to compare
them to. She was so natural, so free, he thought, suddenly
remembering that she wasn't really free. His eyes caught the front
of her robe as she bent, exposing her breasts from beneath the open
front. They hung gently without a bra, and yet retained their
perfect shape, almost staring back at him from the tips of their
sensitive pink nipples.
Paula looked up from between her soapy hands and saw him
staring at her. She knew that he was watching her breasts, and
somehow felt a little embarrassed at having him look at her naked
breasts, even though so many men had seen her completely nude, and
used her. But she knew that Sammy wouldn't use her like they had.
He would make love to her, not just fuck her like the others had.
"How much did you collect this week," she asked, wanting him
to talk to her.
"Huh," he said, surprised at the sudden sound of her deep
sensuous voice. "Oh, about twenty-five grand."
She whistled.
"Yeah, it's a lot of dough, alright. I wish it were mine
instead of Wade's, but that's the story of my life."
"I didn't know it was that much," she said, still amazed by
the vastness of the sum. "Just think how much the girls could make
by themselves if they didn't have to give him half or more."
It was coming out into the open, Sammy thought as she spoke.
If he was going to make love to her, he would have to let it out.
He would have to know if this was where she screwed all those men
for money.
"I remember," he said softly, "How much you gave me tonight.
But, well, how much do you charge everybody."
Realizing now what was bothering him, she answered, leaving
enough room for him to continue later. "Well, it all depends.
Usually it's a hundred for a short-timer," she said, immediately
regretting that she had said short timer so lightly. "Sometimes
the prices are higher, like the one Red called me about tonight.
But then other times I even go as low as fifty backs if I'm having
a slow night."
Sammy could hardly believe his ears. She was talking about it
just as if it were a regular business and not prostitution. He
felt sparks of anger and the ache of disappointment as he listened.
He wanted her so much, but she seemed to be ruining everything.
Still washing her face, Paula waited for Sammy to say
something. If they were going to have anything at all between
them, she thought, then he would have to understand that she was a
prostitute, and nothing else. If he could accept that for the time
being, then later on there would be no problems. Please, she
thought, say it now, and get it over with.
"How, uh, how many guys do you usually have a night," he
finally asked, shrugging his shoulders as if he were ashamed of the
question.
"Generally about four," she said quickly.
Now the clincher, she thought. If he can take it, now will be
the time.
Sammy's voice cracked, "Do you, I mean, where do you do it?"
"Oh, Sammy," she cried aloud and turned from the basin,
putting her arms around him and sitting on his lap. "I couldn't, I
just couldn't even think of making love with you in a business bed.
No, my Darling, I've never brought anyone else here. This is my
home and my refuge, and if you want, it can be yours, too."
Thank God, he thought, completely relieved. He knew suddenly
why she had talked so matter-of-factly about her business. She was
so natural, so beautiful, and now that he knew this was her own
home, she did seem almost free to him.
He pulled her more tightly toward him, feeling her breasts
crush in their softness against his chest. Accidentally his elbow
pressed against the chrome handle behind him and the room filled
with the sound of running water as the toilet flushed beneath them.
Paula began laughing uncontrollably as Sammy's face turned
beet red. What a way to start, she thought, laughing almost
hysterically. A prostitute and her collection man sitting on the
toilet about to make love, it's too much.
Sammy had joined her laughter, his embarrassment easing away.
He was holding her so that she wouldn't fall, when suddenly he felt
his hand firmly placed over her round smooth breast. He knew that
there was no reason to remove it. His fingers luxuriated in the
softness, and felt as if they belonged on her round white flesh.
He wanted to hold her and protect her against everything in the
world outside.
Paula, too, had become aware of the warm hand on her hardening
breast. No other hand had touched her like that, she felt, so
gently and firm, yet not demanding, not wanting what all the others
had wanted. Instead of tensing as she had done with so many other
men, she felt herself relaxing at his touch, while at the same
time, recognized for the first time in her life, a tingling in her
breasts as her nipples quickly filled with warm desire until they
were tight and hard, demanding something that she had never felt
before, not even with Jed.
"I've never loved anyone," he said breaking the silence
between them. "But if it's what I imagined it to be, then I feel
it now."
She wanted to believe him so badly. If it's true, she
thought, if it's true ... But she was afraid to finish the sentence
in her mind. Her thoughts were changing to colors instead of
pictures, and she could not reply or adjust the strange desires
that were growing within her.
"Is that too quick for you?" he asked, suddenly shifting his
weight. "Maybe we need more time."
He made a motion to get up, but she stopped him, bending down
and gently touching his lips with hers, as if it were the first
time. She needed him to know that she felt the same, even though
she couldn't find the words, and she let her lips rest on his,
softly inhaling his breath through her moist open lips. This has
got to be right, she thought. She wanted to kiss him out of love,
cleanly and gently, and not with the contrived manners of sex she
had learned so well over the past months.
They stopped for a moment staring into each other's eyes.
"I never felt like this before," she said. "No one could have
said that and meant it as much as you do."
There was no need for another word, he thought, as he kissed
her again, this time eagerly, showing her that he wanted her now.
He trapped her lower lip between his and sucked it into his mouth,
feeling her tongue, hard and wet slip in behind, probing at the
insides of his mouth. They embraced more tightly, almost crushing
each other with urgent strength as a fire began to build between
his legs.
"Let's move," she said almost breathlessly as she stood up.
Sammy got to his feet, but was uncertain about what he should
do. He knew what he wanted and what a man would do in a normal
situation. But she was a prostitute and had already had other men
tonight. Maybe she wouldn't be ready, maybe she wanted to wait.
"Sammy, I want you," she said almost pleading. "I want you
and you alone, more than I ever wanted anybody!"
She turned and he followed her, but his mind couldn't rest.
Why did she have to say something like that, always referring to
other men. Maybe it was all the same to her. Maybe all men were
alike, and she would be just performing again. He tried to put it
out of his mind as he came up behind her beside the bed and looked
at her, feeling his penis now hard and pressing inside his
trousers.
As they sat on the bed silently, he started to kiss her again,
lightly touching the soft clean skin of her cheek. No one else has
screwed her here, he thought, but goddamn it, why has there ever
been anyone else ever? It angered him to think of all those other
men. Men! She had no right, he thought. She's mine, and mine
alone.
His hands moved over her robe to the open front and traced a
path to the single large button that fastened it. Easily he opened
it and ran his hand up the smooth white skin of her naked torso
until he got to the top, then eased it from her arms and watched it
flop onto the bed in a silent pile. His fingers roamed over her
trembling breasts and across her belly exploring every tingling
inch of her nakedness, wanting to tear at her and make love to her
savagely until the pressure in his loins was drained.
As she lay back onto the bed he leaned over her and began
caressing the tight pink tip of one nipple, playing with it gently
and biting it just enough to make her groan. He sucked the hard
round end of her breast into his mouth and felt her tremble as she
ran her hands through his hair.
Panting through his nostrils he wanted more for his hungry
mouth and began to move his head lower across, the soft skin of her
belly. Someone else had made love to her tonight, he thought, but
he had only fucked her. I'm gonna make love to her like no one
ever had. She'll never want anyone else, his mind continued as his
head moved toward the soft brown triangle of her loins.
His tongue slid through the silken pubic hair that covered her
vagina and found the pink lips that had parted in anticipation of
his tongue. He turned his head back and forth for a moment,
whiffing the honeyed smell of her vagina, then slipped his tongue
into the warm waiting slit and ran it teasingly along the quivering
pink flesh.
He heard her moan as he expertly sought out her clitoris with
the hard, wet tip of his tongue. He took it between his lips and
pulled at the tiny erect bud making her whole body tremble as she
moaned out her passion again.
There was no guesswork now, he thought, as she trembled
beneath him. He could feel her urgency, her need for him to fill
her aching pussy with his swollen cock. He stood up and removed
his clothing quickly, freeing his straining penis from its
imprisonment, letting it spring up and jut straight from his body,
pulsating in the air. It hung over her
body, and he watched her as he removed his socks. She was the most
sensual, beautiful woman he had ever seen, and she was his now.
Slowly he got back onto the bed and traced a path with his
lips from her ankle all the way along her lean supple body until he
touched her mouth. As he kissed her his hands sought every part of
her body that he could excite with his touch, teasing and taunting
her lust-incited flesh.
Needing him so badly she could almost scream, she sucked his
tongue deep into her mouth, trying to pull him into her.
"Please, Sammy!" she gasped. "Please, Now!"
Had she said that to the others, begged them like she was him,
he thought. His jealousy only incited him more and he could feel
his throbbing cock aching to get between the hair-lined lips of her
pussy and fill the hot damp cavern with his sperm.
Expertly he sought the quivering wet lips hidden in the silken
hair. His fingers toyed for a moment with the throbbing bud of her
clitoris, then slipped along the pink flesh to the wet opening of
her cunt.
"Oh, God!" she moaned as the tip of his probing finger slipped
wetly inside.
He knew how much she wanted him, and the thought of all the
other men who had fucked her seemed to slip into the back of his
mind as he toyed with the burning flesh of her pussy.
For the first time he felt her move her hand, slipping her
fingers between his legs and grasping his rigid cock. He felt her
urge him toward her aching pussy as she gently stroked the rock
hard cock that pulsated with every beat of his lust-maddened heart.
Even before his massive prick touched the pink lips of her cunt he
could feel the burning fire that was torturing her inside.
"Mmmmm," she groaned softly as the smooth rubbery head touched
the waiting opening.
For only a second he paused, gently rocking back and forth on
his knees, teasing the trembling opening, then suddenly he thrust
his rigid cock deep into the burning cavern between her open
thighs.
"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as he filled her with his pulsating
prick.
His mouth spread to a wide ecstatic grin as the wet slippery
walls of her vagina enfolded over his throbbing cock, sucking at it
with the clenching muscles of his desire. He sighed, his mouth
wide open as he slid deeper and deeper into her fiery pussy until
he completely filled her.
He could feel her whole body twitching underneath him as he
began to stroke rhythmically, feeling the hard contact of her
pelvis smacking into his as he drove his prick in and out.
She moved in perfect time with him, pushing and dropping her
hips as his light groans of ecstatic pleasure spurred her to higher
and higher plateaus of passion.
"Never, Oh Never Before!" she cried gasping as she drove
herself toward a frenzy of sexual excitement, using every straining
muscle in her tortured body to meet the demands of his huge cock as
it sank in and out of her aching cunt. She dug her fingernails
into his back, drawing blood as she tried to pull him deeper into
the already stretched cavern that ached with a crazed desire for
more and more of this man who had suddenly become her life.
He heard her words, but why had she said it, he thought. How
could he ever forget all the others if she kept saying things like
that. How could he ever forget the picture of fat hairy men
mounting her like an animal and driving their hard, fat cocks into
her cunt, making her beg for more. Had she told them the same
thing?
Why? he thought, unable to control his anger. Wanting to
hurt her he suddenly drove his massive cock deep into her, using
his buttocks as a piledriver. His huge prick was a weapon and he
could punish her with it ...
"Oooooh, God!" she moaned at the savage thrust. "Don't stop!"
Beg! Did she beg them too, he thought, and drove his lust
maddened cock deeper, using all his strength to smash into her,
feeling the red rubbery tip push hard against her cervix.
"Oh, oh, oh," she cried in masochistic pleasure.
Wanting to drive his cock deeper, he moved to reposition her,
using his hands to lift the quivering flesh of her smooth round
buttocks, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his back
and locking her ankles tight together to hold him in her.
As he drove into her again, his fingers spread the clenching
flesh of her quivering white bottom, stretching the tight red ring
of her tiny twitching anus.
She kept moaning as he moistened his finger with the hot
juices that flowed freely from her clasping pussy and slid it along
the tender flesh between her cunt and her anus. Lightly he rubbed
across the rubbery opening, feeling it give as he probed it, making
her cry in ecstasy at the strange, obscene sensation.
Suddenly he slid the finger all the way into her warm damp
rectum and she cried out, half in pain and half in pleasure. He
knew she was no virgin there, and angrily rotated his finger back
and forth, scraping at the soft flesh, punishing her for having
done it before.
She could hardly stand the fucking she was getting in both
burning holes. The swollen walls of her pussy could hardly bear
the fantastic excitement of his rigid cock driving back and forth
inside, while his rotating finger pulled at the very center of her
being. She bucked harder as he fucked her, clenching him tightly
with her long, slim legs straining to draw him deeper.
Her face contorted in a lewd mask of ecstatic pleasure and
pain as she threw her head back and forth on the bed, unaware of
anything but the roaring fire that burned throughout her sex-crazed
body.
Her moanings and spastic twitchings were becoming too much for
him as he thrust his throbbing prick harder and harder inside her
clenching hair-lined pussy and ravaged her burning rectum with his
fingers. Something else, he thought, and suddenly jerked his
finger from her anus and slid it into the quivering pink lips of
her burning cunt beside his driving cock.
Once inside, he sank another finger next to the first,
stretching her opening until she could stand it no longer.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh God, Oh, I'm Cumming, I'm cumming Now!"
He could barely stay on as she suddenly bucked like a wild
horse, filling her pussy with her own orgiastic juices and
lathering his still-stroking cock with its burning wetness.
"Oh, yeah!" he gasped as she came and started driving into her
harder. It had lasted long enough. The dam would hold back no
longer.
There had been so many other men fucking her, filling her with
their cum, but none could have ever made her cum like this ...
He had only seconds left, and grabbed her quivering flesh as
hard as he could, thrusting again and again, unable to control his
animal-like gaspings until his balls suddenly exploded, shooting
his cum along the underside of his thick cock until it burst free
into her cunt, joining her juices deep in her quivering belly as he
screamed aloud: "Ooooohhhhh!"
He reared back, almost standing on his knees as the last jets
of hot sperm filled her, making her his forever.
Slowly, he lowered himself, completely depleted. Nothing had
ever been like this, he thought, as he lay on top of her, too weak
to speak.
Gently, he finally rolled off of her sweating body and lay
beside her, his breathing still heavy.
"Sammy," he heard hazily through the distance of his
happiness, "I love you."
He couldn't believe his ears. She really did love him. Now,
now that he had been avenged, now that she really loved him, he
would never have to think of all those others again. She was his,
and they could never have any more or any less than each other.
As he turned to tell her he loved her too, he felt her long
slender fingers slide between his thighs and tenderly touch his
half-hard cock.
"Let's do it again," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Make
love to me again, my Darling. I don't want you to ever stop."
Chapter 5
"Thank you, Mr. Lee," the uniformed policeman said with a nod.
"Do you know your way around?"
"Yes, thanks," Jeff answered and walked through the turnstile.
Jeff didn't really mind the red tape required to get onto the
convention floor. The Republicans didn't expect any trouble, but
they still had to keep outsiders from butting in, after all,
political secrets are political secrets, he thought.
There had been no trouble obtaining a valid delegate pass
earlier that morning. Jeff's fight against organized crime in
Miami had one backer, a very influential Republican. Even with all
his power and influence he hadn't been able to recruit any more
support for Jeff, but he did easily arrange for credentials that
would allow the editor to wander around the convention hall without
being known as a member of the working press.
If Pam could talk to him, Jeff thought, then maybe she would
believe what I say. His wife's lack of concern was constant
concern for Jeff. He wanted her to believe in what he was doing,
and pay much less attention to her social engagements and
ridiculous charities. If those hens wouldn't cackle so much, and
try talking about important problems, he thought, they might be
able to persuade their husbands to help me. Christ, that'll be the
day. Until then I'm strictly on my own.
"Hartford's the name," a loud voice said beside him. "Iowa,"
he added proudly.
"Jeff Lee. I'm local."
"Just call me Bill, Jeff," he said.
One of those, Jeff thought. He'd met many men like Hartford
during the last twenty years and had never been impressed with any
of them, except perhaps by the excess weight they always seemed to
carry around the middle. It was almost a badge of honor for men
like Hartford to be fat, he thought.
Jeff looked right past Hartford's head as the overweight
delegate talked to him. Full of information, Jeff snickered to
himself. Probably doesn't do a goddamn thing but talk. Probably
talks to his hogs, too. Jeff didn't care to hear anything that
Hartford said. He was too intent on spotting familiar faces of
Wade Jackson's henchmen, all of whom he would know on sight, though
none of them had ever seen him.
"Excuse me for interrupting, Bill," he said, grabbing the big
man by the arm and shaking his hand. "But one of my fellow
delegates has just waved at me. I think we have a caucus coming
up."
"Yeah, I know how it is ..."
But before he could finish Jeff had already left.
Across the room he had spotted Carl Pearson, Wade Jackson's
right hand man. Seeing Carl, he knew that there was something
lined up for the delegates already, and if he wanted more evidence
he would have to find out where and when.
Keeping his eye constantly on Carl's bald head, Jeff shoved
and wormed his way through the vast crowd of delegates who mingled
around the main floor, talking, dealing or just plain standing.
The way they make crowds, he thought, they must be doing it through
a prearranged signal.
Suddenly breaking into the open Jeff watched Carl shake a
man's hand and turn to leave. There's my contact, he thought,
pulling a cigarette from his half empty pack. Well, here goes
nothin'.
"Gotta light?" Jeff asked the man as he started to walk away.
"Oh," he said, surprised by the sudden intrusion on his
private thoughts. "Sure, somewhere," he laughed, searching his
pockets for a phantom book of matches. "Here."
Jeff took the pack and started to light his cigarette, reading
the club name from the cover.
"This is a good spot," he asked, pointing at the name on the
cover, a club he knew that Jackson owned.
"Hey, let me tell ya about this place," the man said, winking
his much practiced sly old fox wink. "I was there last night, and
Jesus, you shoulda seen the broads. Say, you aren't here with your
wife, are ya?"
Lotta good that'd do me, Jeff thought wryly. "Nope, she's out
of town."
The man looked at Jeff's delegate tag, surprised at the city.
"Hey, you're from here, huh? I'll bet you know a lot of good
places."
"No, not really. I can never get rid of my wife long enough
to catch any action."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, making his "you" sound
like "choo." "But she's gone tonight," he continued, punching Jeff
lightly in the ribs.
Jerk!
"I'm looking for some action," he said, trying to get
irritated. "Maybe I should try that club on the matchbook."
"Oh, no," he said drawing out the words. "Tonight! Tonight
there's gonna be some real action."
Jeff nodded showing his interest.
"I was just talking to a friend of mine, one of the guys who
runs the club, and he's got a big bash set up for tonight. I mean
booze, entertainment and girls, girls, girls," he finished, making
an Eddie Cantor face.
"Sounds good," Jeff said, fishing for an invitation.
Jeff listened while the man gave him instructions, where to
meet him, what time, etc.
Just before they parted he said, "We ought to get to know each
other. I'm Jeff Lee."
"Right, Jeff. Bob Ferris," he put out his hand. "See you at
nine, huh?"
"Great," Jeff answered, hoping this might be the break he was
searching for.
* * *
At nine thirty the two men pulled up in front of a sprawling
white mansion that housed thirty rooms. Jeff could hear the loud
pounding of a drum as he got out of the car. In another minute he
would be inside and could lose this creep. How the hell a guy like
him ever got to be a delegate, he thought, I'll never guess in a
million years how anyone could trust him with the political future
of their country.
A butler in black tie waited for them at the open door and in
a second they were inside. Without any trouble at all Jeff lost
his companion and headed toward the music.
Before he opened the door to the room, he could tell that
there was a striptease going on, or coming off, he thought with a
sarcastic grin. The drum was beating the universal stripper's
rhythm, a pounding monotonous beat.
Jeff slipped in unnoticed and walked through the dim red room
to the opposite wall, where he sat on a large cushion as had the
rest of the guests. Looking around he noticed a few familiar
political faces, some of them women. Obviously the party was well
planned, he noted as he searched the room. A lot of the older men
were accompanied by strikingly beautiful young girls in their early
twenties.
For the first few minutes he hadn't looked toward the center
of the room where a magnificently built Cuban girl, about twenty
was stripping. My God, he thought as he saw her. She's stolen
Pam's body. A small wince of pain flashed through his chest when
he thought of his wife. She had the same legs, the same hips, the
same firm perfectly shaped breasts as the dancer, but never in a
lifetime would she be able to lose her inhibitions and perform like
that for him.
Jeff didn't like to think about Pamela's sexuality mainly
because it was almost non-existent. Christ, he thought, what ever
happened to her. He could remember the first time they had made
love, a few weeks before they were married. He knew at the time
that she was a novice, but he wrote it off to her being a virgin,
something he thought strange, since she was twenty-seven at the
time.
They had only made love once before they were married, and
Jeff realized that something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint it
until a month after the wedding. Frigid, he thought. It was the
only word that fit her. During the last three years he had done
everything he could think of to help her change, but nothing had
worked, and finally they had just stopped talking about it
altogether.
But a man's a man, and he sometimes needs it any way he can
get it, he told himself silently as he watched the stripper. She
was about five-foot-three and dark, but other than that, the
physical similarity between her and Pamela was a carbon copy. He
watched her breasts quivering as she moved subtly around the circle
in the center of the room, her hips in perfect unison with a slow,
excruciatingly desirable act of sexual intercourse.
He tried to remember that she wasn't his wife, that she was a
professional prostitute earning her living by taking her clothes
off in front of a multitude of men and women.
Moving her eyes from man to man she continued to dance,
undulating her hips, gesturing with her arms in such a way that
every muscle in her long dark body would seem to twitch in unison.
Her black hair swayed as she leaned her head backward, but all eyes
were on her hands and not her head as she slipped her black half-
slip from over her hips and exposed a tiny pair of panty briefs,
smaller than any bikini Jeff had ever seen. She dropped the nylon
to the floor and continued her dance, turning so that everyone in
the room would be able to savor every inch of her sensuous flesh.
Jeff looked at her buttocks as she turned her back toward him,
clenching the muscles in rhythm to the music as if she were
conducting the drummer.
Just as she turned again to face him she slowly removed the
two black pasties that covered her chocolate-brown nipples,
completely exposing her rounded full breasts to his eyes. She
looked directly at him as she danced, her hands toying for a moment
with her breasts, then sliding down her torso slowly, stopping at
her hips only long enough to grasp the brief panties and slowly
ease them down her long firm thighs, revealing the small black
triangle of soft pubic hair that covered the dampened lips of her
vagina.
Pam, Jeff thought, replacing the stripper with his wife. If
Pam could only be like you, for God's sake, what's your secret.
The stripper continued looking at the graying editor as he
watched her, her muscles tense with desire as his eyes traced a
path around her breasts and down her tummy to that tiny triangle of
black curls between her legs. He was imagining his tongue in place
of his eyes, but Goddamn it, he thought, I won't even get the
chance.
Not taking his eyes from her, Jeff heard a voice say at his
head, "Would you like a drink, sir?"
Jeff didn't answer.
"Perhaps there's something else," the too sweet voice of the
young man said.
Mesmerized, Jeff still said nothing.
"The girl," the voice said. "Is that the one you want
tonight?"
Jeff nodded.
"She's booked," the voice whispered, "But for the right price
I can arrange her for you. You've obviously found what you want."
Jeff turned to him for an instant. "Fix it," he said and
looked back at the girl.
He hated prostitution and anyone concerned with it, but Jeff
had lost his battle. He had to have that girl to know what his
wife could really be like. He had to have her!
She had turned her back to Jeff when he spoke to the waiter,
and was slowly revolving in a small circle, tantalizing every man
she looked at. But when her eyes met Jeff's she slowed almost to a
stop, moving only her hips and holding her breasts out for his
approval. There they were, two perfect nipples waiting for him to
suck into his mouth, and pinch with his teeth.
His hands rested on his lap, gently touching the large bulge
of his swollen penis, stroking it slightly. He felt it twitch as
she leaned back, her head touching the floor, then with her free
hands, running her fingers over her torso, along the insides of her
long dark thighs to the pink open lips of her vagina. His
throbbing cock was ready to burst as he watched her spread the
moist lips through the soft pubic hair and open her pulsating
vagina with both hands, and insert two fingers.
Jeff could hardly breathe as his hand gripped his thick cock.
He watched her as the two fingers began to stroke in and out of her
soft, finger-stretched pussy, one against the other. No person in
the room made a sound, as they watched, the men with their hands
underneath their companions' skirts, and the women gently stroking
swollen cocks.
Slowly, to everyone's disappointment, she removed the two
fingers and slid their long nails along her skin, around her
buttocks to gently whisk her tightly clenched anus.
In a few moments it'll be over, Jeff thought to himself,
relieved that she was going to stop before he went mad. Quickly,
almost ashamed, he moved his hand from the swollen penis. Why do
it myself when she can, he thought, and got up from his chair,
looking about the room for the young waiter who signaled him that
everything was ready.
Fine, he thought, and made his way through the crowd to the
door. Pam can go fuck herself, he rationalized. For once since he
had been married, he, was going to have a real woman.
* * *
"Hello," she said through bright red lips. "I'm Carmen."
"I know," he answered her, anxious to get her away from the
crowd in the large living room. "Is there somewhere we can go
now?"
"You're in a big hurry," she told him, her Spanish accent
slipping through each word. "I've got a room upstairs, but we can
only stay for a while." Seeing his expression she offered an
alternative, "But if you want me for longer, I can do that too, at
my apartment."
"Fine," he said, not wanting to talk until they were away from
the house.
"But it'll cost you more," she said coyly, "Much more."
"Let's go," he said looking at her eyes. Except for the
color, they had the same shape and size as his wife's eyes.
* * *
Twenty minutes later he inserted the key into her lock and
stepped into her apartment. She does well, he thought as he looked
about the room.
"In here," she pointed toward the bedroom door and walked in.
It's not real, he thought as he followed her into the large
bedroom. She even walked like Pamela and he couldn't decide
whether it was going to be easier or harder for him to climb into
bed with her. She possessed every sexual quality that his wife
lacked, but the resemblance was so great ...
"How old are you?" he asked as she kicked off her shoes.
"Twenty, why, are you a cop?"
He told her no, but the word cop had reminded him of the job
he had to do. Wade Jackson must be stopped, but Oh God, what a
price to pay, he thought, not wanting to wait.
"I'd like a drink first," he said as she began to unzip her
dress.
"Whatever you say," she answered him in her sexiest Cuban
voice.
They went into the living room and she fixed them both a
drink, bringing his to him where he sat on the couch.
"You haven't even asked me how much," she said, wondering if
he might be a very wealthy man.
He looked at her with his eyebrows raised, indicating a
question.
"Three hundred," she said hesitantly. If he was rich, he
would pay it.
"Three hundred dollars would have to buy a lot more than just
a night in bed," he told her.
Oh brother, she thought, another weirdo. I wonder what tricks
he likes?
"You're the boss, big man," she said trying to be cute.
"Where're you from," he asked without hesitating.
What's he gonna do, talk all night?
"I'm from Cuba," she answered, thinking that he wouldn't care
what she said. "I've been in the States for a year."
Jeff continued questioning her for the next hour, and she
slowly began to trust him, talking more freely as the drinks
increased. She had barely escaped Castro's assassins three years
ago when they had murdered her father. Hiding in the mountains she
had gotten involved in an underground railroad operation and
finally been able to escape to Miami.
But things for her in the United States hadn't been much
better. All of her friends were educated people, but none of them
could get jobs suiting their professional ability. Even her
brother, who held an engineering degree, had to work in a service
station. She had gone to work as a prostitute to help her family,
all of whom were now in Miami, except for her parents, both of whom
were dead.
"I remember," she said thoughtfully, "That we were a very rich
family when I was young. But that gangster Castro and his thieves
took everything, then killed my parents."
Her voice was sad, but no tears came to her eyes. This man
liked to listen to her, she knew. Maybe he could do something to
help her exiled people if he is a big politician like the rest of
the men at the party.
Before she could say any more he interrupted, "Who do you work
for now?"
The question caught her off guard and she answered
immediately, suddenly afraid when she did. One of the basic rules
of the girls who worked for Wade, was never to reveal his identity.
"You won't tell anyone, will you," she pleaded. "If you knew
what would happen to me for telling you that I would be in very
beeg trouble."
Jeff looked at her, trying not to see his wife. "We can help
each other if you want to," he finally said.
Not understanding, Carmen just stared at him.
"It's very simple," he explained and began to tell her his
story.
She said nothing as he talked, taking in every word. He
explained that he was a newspaperman and what he was looking for
with Wade Jackson. If she would cooperate with him, he would use
his influence to advertise the problems of her friends in Miami,
and help arrange suitable jobs for them.
For a moment after he had finished she only looked at him,
then suddenly jumped across the couch and threw her arms around his
neck, showering him with kisses.
"Oh, gracias, gracias," she exclaimed again and again in a
sudden reversion to her native language.
Embarrassed at her display of affection for his offer, he
tried gently to push her away, but the aroma of her smooth dark
skin and the warmth of her breasts as they pushed against his chest
brought back the tingling between his legs. Suddenly she was again
the sensual creature that had nearly driven him mad when she
stripped completely in front of all those people, then had used her
fingers like he wanted to use his swiftly rising cock.
She kissed him again with a resounding smack and jumped off
the couch and began dancing around the room on her toes. No one
had ever offered to help her before, but this man would. She could
feel it as she danced. Then, without his seeing it, she pulled at
a pullaway zipper and suddenly stood holding her dress in her
hands.
Jeff's mouth went dry as he gave up the battle. His wife
could never be like Carmen, and right now he didn't give a damn.
The tingling in his trousers had become a small blaze, and his
swollen cock needed release from its imprisonment.
"A private dance just for you," she said with her eyes
twinkling, and twirled around again.
Downing his drink and getting up to pour himself another, he
watched her closely. What the hell, I can find out what I need to
know later, he thought as he swallowed his drink and reached to
pour another. He remembered her body from before, though he had
known one exactly like it for three years, though his wife had
never allowed him to see all of it in the light before. She was
too much, and would probably drain him, he thought, but if it's
going to be fast, then I'd better be able to do it more than just a
few times.
Watching him, she reached behind her back and easily unsnapped
her bra, letting it drop to the floor between her widespread legs.
Her breasts jiggled in their freedom, displaying already taut
nipples rising high and hard from their brown encirclement. They
quivered as she slowly pulled her hands upward and covered them
with her palms, rubbing small circles over the titillated flesh
making her whole body tingle.
"You want?" she asked, still holding her round firm breasts
with her hands.
"I want," he answered, feeling the animal fires burning in his
loins.
There was no more Pamela, no real Pamela, he thought as the
brandy and naked girl added to his sexual insanity. Carmen seemed
to have his wife's face to go along with the body, but not enough
so that he didn't know who was standing before him, offering him a
sensual feast of sheer lust that he would not forget for a long
time.
"Pants too tight?" she laughed, looking at the large bulge.
Without a word he began to strip, never taking his eyes from
her as she quickly pulled her black half slip over her hips,
exposing another brief bikini, carefully fringed with coal-black,
silken pubic hair. He followed her fingers as they teased their
way under the elastic leg band of her panties, moistening the tips
between the damp pink lips of her pussy.
God I can't wait, he thought as he literally tore his shorts
off freeing his massive swollen prick. It sprang up and bounced
for a moment, then twitched uncontrollably, aching for the hair-
lined pussy that waited for it five feet away. He was ready to
burst, to come right now, but he had to wait, he had to get into
that fiery cunt.
"Oh," she gasped when she saw his throbbing cock jutting out
from his body. "It's so big, bigger than I have ever had," she
lied. True, it was big, but not the biggest that she had had.
"Come here," he commanded, knowing that he could never say the
same thing to his wife.
But his wife could not excite him like this girl could. His
whole body was flushed as he waited for her, his breath short and
strong. The second that she was within reach he grabbed her and
pulled her to him, almost crushing her with his strength. She
didn't resist, but molded her trembling body to his, wrapping one
warm slim, well-tapered leg in between his and pushing the
moistened black panties against his thigh. For the first time she
too could feel the fires of desire rising between her legs.
"Ooohh," he moaned nearly delirious with passion as he touched
her.
His cock rested tightly against her smooth flat stomach as
they stood there. She could feel the boiling heat from the rubbery
head almost burning her tender sensitive skin. White drops of warm
semen leaked from the slit on the tip, moistening her body and she
started to brush back and forth against it.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned as his hands searched her back, sliding
to her buttocks and grabbing both cheeks hard, so that they
quivered like firm jelly. Eagerly he jiggled them slightly,
sending chills through her heated thighs.
His wife would have never submitted to even being touched on
the ass, he thought, but you, you hot little bitch, you love it!
She was his to do with as he pleased, and he would. He would fuck
her and make her cry for more, then fuck her again. This was a
woman!
"Ooohhh," she breathed as he slid his hands inside her panties
and ripped them off her quivering buttocks. She could feel her
heart beating in her bare bottom as he touched it, spreading and
kneading the pliant flesh with his large hands, sending sharp
tingling shocks through her abdomen.
Eager and hungry for her sex he slipped the fingers of one
hand between the two soft round orbs of her backside, along the
crack and down over the tight clenching ring of her anus until he
slipped them into the wet trembling lips of her vagina from behind.
Quickly they ran back and forth across the small hair-lined opening
and through the quivering pink lips, reaching as far as they could
until they tipped the hot erect bud of her aching clitoris.
"Oooohhhh, buena," she hissed through her white teeth. "Muy
buena!"
Unable to hold back any longer she pulled back from him
quickly and fell to her knees, immediately burying her face in the
soft furry hair above his swollen balls. She kept murmuring as she
kissed him again and again, excited by this man she had only just
met. She knew she could please him by sucking his throbbing cock.
That was the greatest submission ever for a woman and submit to
this savior of her people she wanted to do.
Never before, he thought, as he felt her eager wet lips
caressing the base of his pulsating shaft. Never before had anyone
made him feel like this as he stood in the living room. His wife
would never have thought of it, and no other woman he had ever
known had even attempted to put her mouth on his massive cock.
"Oooohhhh," he moaned aloud as her hungry lips parted to allow
her hard, pink tongue to lash out at the veins on the bottom of the
throbbing prick, sending flashes of white hot electricity through
his aching loins. He could hardly stand the ecstatic passion that
she was causing as she gently licked the long rigid cock along its
sensitive bottom until suddenly her mouth was nibbling at the very
tip.
Holding it in one hand, eager to please, she parted her lips
and placed the throbbing head against her teeth and lapped up the
drop of burning sperm that hung heavily at the tiny, slit-like
opening. She had sucked many men before, but none that she
enjoyed, and this one she wanted to suck until he filled her mouth
with his cum.
Slowly, spurred by his moaning, she eased the pulsating head
into her mouth, while he nearly cried the delight, feeling like
razor blades were slitting him open, and exposing his cock to
eternity.
"Oh, God, you little bitch," he wailed. "Don't stop, don't
stop, just keep sucking."
Incited by his shouting the lust-maddened young girl sank more
of the swollen cock into her wet sucking mouth, stabbing at it with
her tongue as she went and hoping that she would be able to swallow
all of it. Her wet, burning pussy was ready to explode too as she
felt him suddenly push his hips forward and grab her by the hair,
forcing the entire throbbing prick deep into her throat.
"Ooooohhhh," he moaned again as the pressure in his balls
strained to the breaking point.
Racing like wildfire, his tortured lust-ridden mind screamed
for more; for her sucking mouth and for the fiery liquids that were
flooding from her overexcited cunt. He could hear her moaning, and
knew that he had to get down there, that he had to bury his face in
the soft downy fur that covered her cunt and shove his tongue
inside her.
"Up!" he commanded, but she didn't hear.
His hands still in her hair, he yanked her head away from his
burning prick, scraping it with her teeth. But she didn't want to
stop and tried to get her mouth back around the massive red head.
She had been driven to sex-maddened heights and had no control over
herself.
Suddenly she was in the air, looking at the floor. Thinking
he was through, she started to fight him, wanting him to finish her
before she died from the anguish. But a moment later she was
sailing through the air and bounced onto the bed, followed right
behind by the lust-crazed newspaperman.
He gave her hardly a chance to move as he grabbed her and
rolled her soft brown body onto its back, then climbed upside down
on top of her, his massive, tortured cock pulsing directly over her
head, and buried his face in the hair-lined lips of her fiery cunt.
"Ooooohhhhh," she shrieked in ecstasy as he shook his head
back and forth savagely. She felt as if his tongue and chin were
tearing her to shreds, his chin rubbing her swollen red clitoris,
and his tongue lapping at all the warm, sweet juices that flowed
from her aching cunt. Faster and faster he shook his head, unable
to control his desires, incited by her sexual screaming.
Her hips bucked and twitched while she screamed, her face
contorted in a lust-crazed mask. Her body was slick with sweat as
she fought for a climax that waited deep in her wet slippery pussy,
waiting for release.
Above her head the pulsating blood-filled cock twitched in
eager anticipation of her lips. Quickly she raised her head and
grabbed it with both hands, scraping the tender skin with her
fingernails. Without hesitating she opened her jaws as wide as she
could and plunged the whole massive prick into her mouth at once,
nearly choking. Tears of joy flooded from her cheeks as she sucked
at the throbbing shaft, sucking each drop of seeping juices that
trickled from the tip.
"Oh, Oooohhh," he gasped, lifting his head as her tender red
lips and hot hard tongue went lasciviously back and forth along the
full hardened length of his huge twitching prick.
He held his head up and began to match her bobbing head with
short strokes of his own, sinking his cock deep into her hungry
throat. He dropped his head and looked back at her ovalled red
lips, excited even more by the picture of the twenty-year old Cuban
prostitute sucking voraciously at his jerking cock as he thrust it
in and out of her saliva-filled mouth.
Panting in short hard breaths he lowered his head back to the
juices that flowed from between her legs. His tongue shot out in
search of the ragged pink mouth of her pussy, running quickly along
the soft, hair-lined slit until he found the entrance and suddenly
thrust the entire length of the hard wet shaft into her aching
cunt. Burying his teeth against the quivering flesh of the pink
lips he simulated a cock driving unmercifully in and out of her
pussy.
"Oooooohhhh," she cried as the tongue drove into her fiery
vagina, rotating in small circles inside, then withdrawing and
driving in again. She had only seconds left as she felt the first
spasms of climax building to release. More! she thought as she
thrust her hips upward to meet the tongue and the bite of teeth.
More! More! More ... !
He could hear her moaning as she sucked at his twitching cock.
He was ready now and didn't want to wait any longer. Quickly he
ran one hand around her trembling buttocks and searched for the
clenching ring of her tight little anus. His balls were about to
burst, but with one final effort he found the tiny hole and teased
at it with his finger.
That did it!
She could stand no more as the teasing finger at her rectum
forced her into a spastic clenching rhythm that set off her climax,
and she threw her hips high into the air and screamed, her lips
still wrapped tightly around his thrusting penis.
"Oooohhh! I'm, Cummmmmiing! ... Ooooooh Dios, I'm Cumming!"
Too much, he thought wildly as the underside of his cock
suddenly jerked spastically and he felt the first rush of sperm
explode in his balls. No Pam, his mind screamed, no wife can do
this, she can't, Pam can't do it! And he suddenly bellowed from
the deepest part of his belly, "Auuugghhhhh, I'm Cummminnngg too!!!
"Suck baby! Suck!"
Like a huge firehose his wildly jerking cock pumped load after
load of hot, gushing sperm into the young girl's mouth and she
swallowed it as quickly as she could, wanting all of the burning
liquid to fill her whole body. She would save it for later and
give it back to him so that she and this savior of her people could
wallow in each other's flesh all night long.
Exhausted, he fell upon her, his head still buried in the soft
black hair between her widely splayed thighs. Well, Pammy, he
thought. You'll never match that, never in a million years.
Chapter 6
A shiny bald head poked through the open door, its nose
hawklike between two pure blue eyes.
"Boss, ya gotta minute?"
"Not just now, Carl, goddamn it! I've got too much to do this
afternoon," Wade Jackson's polished voice answered.
Carl didn't want to wait. "It's important!"
Wade Jackson sat at his desk, small stacks of papers and
accountant sheets spread before him. Even though he had a small
army of accountants, he always took pains to check their work over
every week. "No one cheats Wade Jackson," he had once said, and so
far during the last twenty years, no one had even tried.
"Christ!" he said, pausing for a moment. "Come on in."
Never one fucking minute to myself, he thought, trying to feel
sorry for his executive image, an image he lived up to.
"Alright, what is it?"
Carl Pearson entered the room dressed like a typical East
Coast company vice-president. His expensive three button suit fit
perfectly, accented by a matching vest and blue button-down collar
shirt with a carefully selected tie. He dressed his part well,
always appearing to be a businessman, which he was during the day,
but his nights were spent in search of new and exciting perversion,
fed by an ever-growing number of young prostitutes owned by the
syndicate.
"It's bad news," he said with a scowl. "We're getting trouble
on two fronts."
That's all I need, Wade thought, something else to throw a
goddamned wrench into the works.
"Well, Goddamn it!" he practically yelled. "What is it this
time?"
"Your friend Paula," he paused waiting to see if Wade would
recognize the name. "Yeah, that's the one. She turned down a
trick last night after Red called her. She said that she already
had one lined up, but Red told her to come anyway."
"That's not so bad. What gives?"
"Sammy Wynn is what gives, or gets, depending on how you look
at it. Paula's watchdog, George, said that Sammy and Paula got
pretty thick when he came to make the collection last night, and
finally left together after she had talked to Red."
"Shit," Wade whispered. "What else?"
"This is the bad one," he said taking a deep breath of
reassurance. "That editor, Lee. We got a tape of him and Carmen
last night. They got real chummy at the house, and she took him to
her place, making her think he was a regular john.
"I suppose I could say Carmen didn't know better, but when
they got to talking he convinced her to spill the beans about our
organization. They had one helluva wild screwing, four times in as
many hours. But afterwards she told him everything."
Wade sat silent for a moment, his hands covering his eyes.
Then suddenly he slammed his fist onto the table. "That son of a
bitch," he yelled. "We should have eliminated him months ago. Now
he knows too much; probably wrote everything down last night."
Wade paced the floor while Carl stood patiently, waiting for
orders.
"Send Red in here," he said finally. "I think we can fix
everybody up with the right medicine."
Half a minute later Red came through the door, his bulk nearly
filling the entire entranceway. At six-foot-six-inches he weighed
two hundred and sixty-five pounds without an ounce of fat on him,
except between the ears. His physical prowess and cruelty were his
only assets, but good enough assets for Wade to have kept him for
ten years, running hundreds of dirty errands and using his muscle
wherever needed.
"Ya want me, Boss," he asked, a sheepish grin on his face.
"Of course, I do. Why do you think I called you?"
"I'm sorry, Boss," he whimpered. "I didn't think."
"You're not paid to think, right," Wade said, pausing for the
big man to nod. "We've got a job to do, so I want you to listen
carefully."
Wade stopped while Red settled himself in a large leather
chair. If he were going to remember everything, he would have to
be comfortable with nothing to distract his attention.
"You remember calling Paula last night?" he asked
rhetorically. "Well, she didn't show for the trick. Do you
remember what we did to her the last time she tried that?"
Red nodded again, pleased with himself that he understood
everything that Wade had said. He remembered, and hoped that he
could do the same to her that he had a few months ago.
"O.K., now listen: I don't want you to do the same thing with
her this time. I want you to feed Jocko well today. Do you know
why?"
Red knew Jocko but he couldn't see the connection between
feeding the giant St. Bernard and punishing the girl.
"You're going to take Jocko and Carl over to Paula's this
afternoon and do some training. Get the picture?"
Red still wasn't sure, but a wide grin spread across Carl's
face. He knew exactly what Wade had in mind.
"I'm putting you in charge, Red, so that you can teach the
girl how to screw with the dog."
Immediately Red's face flushed with pleasure. He remembered
that the dog had been trained before to perform sexual intercourse
with another girl while a group of high paying customers watched.
Red had enjoyed the training before the show, because he had taken
turns with Jocko, each of them screwing the girl until she had
finally collapsed from exhaustion and humiliation.
Wade's face turned very serious. "I don't want you to trade
off with the mutt like you did the last time, dammit."
Red felt a pang of disappointment, but Carl knew it was only
temporary, and Red would do whatever he pleased with the girl.
"You almost killed her," Wade continued, "So you can't do the
same thing this time. Understand?"
Red held his lips tight, trying not to pout, and nodded his
head.
"I won't do it, Boss. Whatever you say."
"Good!"
"Can I fuck her once, Boss?" Red suddenly asked like a child.
"Sure, Boss, why not," Carl intervened. "That way he can
soften that warped little pussy of hers up so that she'll be more
ready for the dog."
Red looked at Wade and saw that he was going to say no.
"What if I just have her suck me off, Boss," he pleaded,
hoping for some sort of consent to torture the young prostitute.
"Hey, boss," Carl said again. "She's gotta suck the dog off
for the show, so why not let her practice with Red. Hell he oughta
get something out of it. It was his order that she refused."
Wade thought for a moment longer, then opened a drawer and
took out a cigar.
"O.K., Red. You can let her suck you, but goddamnit, you
better not hurt her, not like the time you beat her up. She is one
of the best I have and I don't want her put out of work for another
month. We got a busy season ahead."
"Hey!" Red exclaimed, jumping out of the chair, totally
pleased with himself.
But Carl interrupted, "What about Sammy?"
"Leave the kid to me," Wade said. "He's a nice kid. It's
just that he doesn't know all the rules yet. If he hasn't run off
with the take, then send him to me and I'll have a little heart to
heart talk with him. He'll understand."
The matter was settled and Red went for the door, eager to
feed his dog and get over to Paula's. He knew that the dog only
performed well on a full stomach, so he would be sure to give him
plenty of good red meat.
"Hold it, Red," Wade said softly. "I've got another surprise
for you."
Red turned and looked for a sign from Carl. He wanted to know
if the surprise was going to be good or bad. He immediately broke
into a grin when Carl nodded and motioned him toward the chair.
"You remember that newspaperman who's been snooping around so
much?" Wade asked, almost sure that he didn't remember, even though
Red's head nodded immediately. "Well, he's found out too much, so
I want you to teach him a lesson he'll never forget."
Red's grin grew as he pictured himself working Lee over with
his huge fists until the man would drop dead. He'd done it before
for Wade and enjoyed it almost as much as beating up the girls he
would rape.
Wade pulled a folder from the middle drawer in his desk. It
was complete, except for a picture, but he was sure he could get
one soon. For months he had a detective follow Jeff's every
movement and dig into his past. He held in his hand a complete
dossier of the editor's life from the time he was twenty-five.
"Right here," he said smiling, "Is how we're going to get Mr.
Lee. His wife, Gentlemen, is a beautiful, but according to the
report, sexually inactive young lady."
Red smiled at "sexually."
"Carl, women are really your specialty. How would you handle
it?"
Pleased that he had been asked, Carl immediately developed a
plan.
"If we're gonna get the husband through the wife, then he's
gonna have to know all about it. You listening, Red?"
The red-headed bodyguard nodded.
"I can see her now," Carl said. "She'll be at home when we
get there. It won't be hard to get in, and as soon as we are in,
we'll give everything we've got."
"Fly, Carl," Red asked, hoping that he had contributed to the
plan.
"Good idea! We'll fix her with some Spanish Fly, let it
settle for a few minutes, then fuck the hell out of her?"
"Hey!" Red exclaimed, excited by the mental picture of what he
could do.
Wade said nothing, listening all the time and enjoying
himself. Jeff Lee had bothered him once too often, and now he'd
take care of him for good. It sounds so good, Wade thought, I
might even try a bite of the action myself.
"But the best part," he continued, Pausing for a moment. "The
best part is when we call her husband on the phone."
"Why do ya wanna do that?" Red asked, screwing up his nose in
a puzzled look.
"Because, stupid, when we call her old man, we're gonna be
screwin' her, and he'll hear it all."
"Then he'll come over, right," Red asked, sure he had guessed
the answer.
"Right! But when he does, we don't mess him up," he paused
for dramatic effect. "We make him watch instead."
"Hey!" Red shouted again gleefully.
Wade chuckled. "With all that fly in her the little bitch
will be wilder than a fuckin' nymphomaniac. Yeah, Carl. I like
that!"
"Yeah, Carl, me too!" Red added.
Chapter 7
Sammy Wynn walked into the living room of Paula's apartment
with a glass of milk and some cookies she had baked an hour before.
Careful not to spill the milk, he set the glass on the coffee table
and then searched for a magazine to read.
He was humming an unfamiliar tune, unaware that he made any
sound at all. His first night in bed with Paula had ended at eight
o'clock that morning and they had not slept at all. Sammy had
never known a woman like her, and knew he could never find another.
She had made him happy for the first time in his life, and could
barely remember feeling any other way.
Picking up a copy of Life he settled back into the big easy
chair and picked up his glass of milk. He had nothing else to do
until Paula came back from the store except read and relax, and by
God, I will, he thought.
He leafed through the magazine until he found a story that
caught his interest and started to read, when suddenly a key
clicked in the door. The noise startled him and he started to
rise.
"Hi, Honey," he called out as the door opened inward.
"Hi, Honey, too, Sammy," Carl's voice said sarcastically from
behind the door.
The syndicate! Sammy stood still, almost in shock. He had
forgotten about Wade and the collection money he was supposed to
turn in the night before. But how did they know he was here?
"Uh, hi, Carl. How are ya this morning?"
Carl was pleasant in his reply: "Fine, boy, and how are you?"
Sammy relaxed slightly at the tone of Carl's voice. Maybe
they aren't mad after all, he thought.
"What brings you here?" he asked, anxious to hear a friendly
answer.
"Just a friendly little call."
Sammy wasn't sure whether or not he should believe the bald-
headed hood, but for the moment there was no other choice.
Suddenly Red came through the door tugging a leash. Sammy
watched, his mouth open, as the biggest dog he had ever seen came
following in behind Red. They were meant for each other, he
thought, noting both their sizes, and apparent looks of complete
ignorance on their faces. If Red grew his hair longer, Sammy
thought, they could almost be brothers.
"Hi, Sammy," Red said smiling. "Come here and say hello to my
stud friend, Jocko. Come on, he won't hurt ya."
Cautiously Sammy walked over to pet the dog, and saw
immediately that it was friendly. As the young collector scratched
behind the dog's ear Carl suddenly startled him.
"Haven't you forgotten something, Sammy?"
"Hey, no. It's just that, well I got hung up last night, but
I've got all the collections here, right over there on that table."
"Good! In that case I suggest that you gather it all up into
one nice little bundle and go down to see Wade. He wants to talk
to you."
"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" Sammy asked, afraid that
he might lose his job, or worse.
"No, Kid, he just wants to make sure you don't make any real
mistakes, not like Paula did."
"What do you mean?" Sammy asked, his mind afraid for his girl.
"Never mind, Kid, just get your coat and the money. We'll
talk to Paula when she comes home."
Sammy nodded and went into the bedroom for his coat. He
paused for a moment thinking that he should write her a note, but
that would be useless. He could wait for her outside, but Wade was
waiting for him, and he might get into real trouble if he didn't
show up this time.
Walking through the living room toward the door, Sammy nodded
to the two hoods and said he would get right over to Wade's. He
opened the door as they smiled at him and walked down the corridor,
pausing for a moment to see if they would check on him.
Feeling safe, Sammy tiptoed back to the door of Paula's
apartment and put his ear to the keyhole, hoping to find out
exactly what they wanted with his girlfriend. At the first words
he heard, his fear grew:
"Put the gun away, Red," Carl's voice boomed through the
keyhole. "Sammy's not going to come back and give us any trouble.
He's a smart kid."
"I was just checkin' it, Carl," Red explained defensively.
"Ya never can tell when some jerk might try to bust in and ruin it
for us."
"No one's gonna wreck this job for us," Carl said, his
thoughts racing furiously as he pictured the girl strapped to the
bed while the huge St. Bernard's tongue licked obscenely between
her wide-spread legs and built her up to a fever-pitch of unwanted
desire.
"Yeah, you're right," Sammy heard Red answer. "We'll get that
hot little whore in here and let the dog fuck her 'til she can't
stand it. She'll pay for not doin' what we tell her, huh, Carl?"
"You'd better believe it," Carl said absently, still thinking
about what would happen. He loved to watch women suffer,
especially women he knew. "After we're finished with that little
whore Wade'll take care of Jeff Lee."
"Ya mean the newspaperman," Red asked, sure that he knew the
answer in advance.
"Right. But now, goddamn it, take the dog into the bathroom
and stay there with him until Paula gets here. We want to surprise
her, don't we?"
"Right, Carl. We'll surprise her; and Jocko'll surprise her."
Outside the door Sammy Wynn could hardly keep himself from
charging through the heavy wood and smashing their faces in. But
he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Red's pistol. The only
way was to warn Paula, then get help.
Quickly he ran to the bottom of the stairs and pulled a pen
and paper from his pocket. Scribbling a note of warning to Paula,
he stuck it in her mailbox, and ran down the steps to his car.
Jeff Lee, he remembered. It shouldn't be hard to find a
newspaperman, especially if he's the kind who can make trouble for
the mob. Yeah, Jeff Lee, he'll help me get those bastards, he
thought as he sped away from the curb, racing through midmorning
traffic for the offices of Miami's largest newspaper.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Paula Moore walked happily past her
mailbox and into the apartment house. Her arms were laden with two
large paper bags filled with groceries and a gift for Sammy. I'll
get the mail when I come back down, she thought, and pressed the
button for the elevator that would take her to the second floor
where the two perverted hoods awaited her.
Standing at her apartment door she fumbled for the key in her
purse, trying not to spill the groceries, then opened the door.
"Hello, Sweetheart," Carl's sarcastic voice greeted her.
"We've been waiting for you."
Paula froze in terror as she stood in the doorway. Oh God,
she thought, another beating, or maybe even worse. Where was
Sammy? Her full lower lip trembled as she pictured her boyfriend
badly beaten and laying somewhere in a nameless alley, unable to
call for help.
"Where-where's Sammy," she stammered.
"Don't worry about lover-boy," Carl sneered. "We had a little
talk and he understands everything. He's with Wade right now,
getting some more instruction in our organization's ethics, so you
don't worry about him. He's not in trouble, but you are!"
"Carl, I ..."
But before she could finish her sentence the bald-headed man
had grabbed her and pulled her into the room, throwing her to the
floor and slamming the door shut with his free hand. He craved the
touch of female flesh, especially flesh as smooth, soft and ripe as
Paula's. Red had needs, Carl thought, but nothing like mine. I'll
fix her for fucking that kid, and turning her soft little pussy
away from me like she's done so many times before. Cold little
bitch, I'll fix you good!
"Get up!" he yelled at her as she lay, half sitting on the
floor. "Get your hot little ass off the floor and into the
bedroom."
So that's what he wants, she thought, as she got to her feet.
Paula knew that she would be able to take any fucking that old
baldy had to offer. She remembered one time he had screwed her
before, his stubby little prick trying so hard to get inside her,
then suddenly cumming all over himself. I can take that form of
punishment from any of these thugs, she thought, even after loving
Sammy. He'll understand.
"Strip, bitch," Carl ordered, an obscene smile spreading
across his face. "You've disobeyed orders, and now you'll have to
pay for it."
Paula smiled as she started unbuttoning her blouse slowly.
She would put on a show for him, make him feel just like a
customer. Customer! she thought. Poor Sammy, if only she never
had to have any customers, then they would be free. But hell, for
right now, she could put up with it for just a little longer, even
though she despised Carl and his impotency. He was tall, but his
shiny bald head made him a hideous man, though his features weren't
really ugly, only sharp and harsh, like a Nazi Colonel's might be.
She glanced up as she bent and pulled her stockings from her
long tanned legs. Her eyes caught the protruding bulge of his
hardening penis as it rose beneath his trousers, eager to break
free and soak itself in the luxurious juices between her legs.
Paula could barely stop herself from snickering at the thought of
the stubby cock as she had seen it once before.
"Something funny," he asked, his voice sounding suddenly
dangerous.
Paula felt a tingle of fear slide up her spine as she answered
him, telling him that nothing was funny, nothing really.
Once she undressed and stood naked in front of him, Carl
ordered her to lie on the bed. He could hardly control himself as
he spoke, the ache in his groin throbbing through his tensing
thighs. But, he would control himself, he thought, and he would
control her; he'd control her until the little bitch was kneeling
down on her knees begging for it.
It doesn't matter what he wants, she thought as she lay back
naked on the bed and arranged the pillow under her head. I've got
Sammy and no one can change that, no one, not even Carl.
Paula closed her eyes and waited for him to undress, all the
time thinking about Sammy and the pleasure they had shared together
in bed. She could remember his rock-hard erection stroking in and
out of her burning vagina, filling her with ecstatic desire.
However, as she lay on the bed dreaming Carl was not
undressing. Instead, he had pulled four nylon cords from his suit
pockets and was arranging them in noose-fashion, one for each limb.
"What are you doing," she cried suddenly and sat up as Carl
grabbed her ankle and looped one noose around her right leg,
fastening the other end to the bedpost.
"You'll see in a minute," he sneered at her, wanting to slap
her for lying there, wanting to thrust his stubby little penis into
the soft succulent hole between her legs. "Just lie back and keep
your goddamned mouth shut!"
Paula did as he commanded, tiny tears of sudden fear forming
in her eyes. He can screw me, she thought. I'm a prostitute and
he can screw me. Why does he have to tie me up? Why?
Carl felt a burning rage building inside himself as he tied
her wrists to the other posts. He wanted to see her ravaged by the
St. Bernard, then he would have his turn, too. It didn't matter
what Wade said, and Red would never tell if he could have a little
of her pussy, especially if the girl could be forced to suck him.
No, no one would know but the three of them, and none of them would
dare tell Wade they had gone against his instructions.
Slowly he got off the bed, running his fingers along the
tanned smoothness of her sleek, naked thigh, pausing for a moment
by the warmth of her dormant vagina. Yeah, he thought. She'll be
ready when the dog finishes with her.
"Red," he yelled at the bathroom door. "Come on in here!"
Paula gasped as the door opened and she saw the two hundred
pound St. Bernard come sniffing into the room, straining at the
long black leash that pulled Red along behind.
"Oh, God, no," she whimpered as she suddenly knew what they
had in store for her.
She tugged at the nylon cords that held her arms and legs,
trying desperately to free herself from the impending doom, but it
was no use. She could twist her body, but she was tied so tightly,
that it did her no good to move at all. She twisted her head,
trying to look at the knots that held her, each one tied with a
hangman's professional care. There was no way for her to move, but
she tried again anyway, hoping against hope that she could escape.
She lifted her body and with all her strength pulled against the
nylon cords, but nothing would give except her skin as it burned
against the ropes, while trickles of blood ran down her arms from
her wrists. What kind of men were they? Were they men at all?
Why would they do this to her for one mistake? She panted for
breath and closed her eyes hoping they would all go away. The
unmistakable sniffing of the giant dog grew louder and she prayed
to heaven for help. Don't let them, Oh God, don't let them do it!
"What's the matter, Paula," Carl sneered. "Are you afraid of
the little puppy?"
Paula looked up at him to see Red standing beside him, handing
Carl the black leash.
"I'm gonna watch for a while," he said, his yellow teeth
showing from between his lips. "And then I'm gonna take my turn
just like I did before. "You're gonna get a fuckin' today like
you've never had in all your whorey little life."
Red snickered at his own obscene thoughts as he lifted himself
onto the dresser and settled into a front row seat.
"You shoulda seen him with Phyllis," he giggled. "He fucked
her until all she could do was beg for more and more. Goddamn, she
really liked it."
You perverted bastard, she thought. Why don't you shut up and
get out of here, both of you!
"Yeah, Jock," Carl said talking to the dog. "You screwed her
so good, she'll never go back to men, nope, never."
Paula couldn't believe what they were saying, talking like two
horrid perverts, men like she had never met before. "Stop it!" she
screamed. "Leave me alone!"
But it was too late! Terrified she trembled as the huge St.
Bernard lifted his head onto the bed and began sniffing at her
shapely calves. She strained to escape, but her struggles did
nothing but further the dog's interest as she fought against the
nylon bonds that held her legs spread wide apart. She was open and
completely vulnerable with no escape left to her.
She shuddered as the dog's long pink tongue lapped at the salt
of her sweating skin. The St. Bernard began to nose forward toward
the honeyed scent of her soft hair-lined pussy as she fought to
break free, lifting her thighs high into the air in a last effort
to escape, but it was no use. The dog had discovered the scent he
had been searching for and climbed onto the bed completely,
drooling his hot saliva onto her thighs as he nosed forward
searching for the smell he had found on Phyllis not so long ago.
She twisted her pelvis again and the soft velvet fur of her pussy
caught the dog's eye and he knew where the hot smell was coming
from. Quickly he brought his head to the dark apex of her thighs
and sniffed at the warm wet hole. He had found what he had come
for.
It was like a dream, unreal and unbelievable. She tried to
turn her head, but she was too weak from fighting. It's not real,
she thought frantically and closed her eyes to stop the nightmare,
knowing that there would be no stopping until the dog had finished
with her and left her ravaged body to the mercy of the two leering
hoods.
Carl's perverted eyes watched the girl in glee as he held the
dog by the leash, controlling its movements. They were both under
his control, and he loved it. He watched as the dog pushed at the
silken pubic hairs in preparation and felt the growing ache in his
swollen testicles as the girl twisted back and forth in agony,
trying to escape. She's mine, he thought gleefully as he
unconsciously slipped one hand to his groin, trying to relieve the
ache that rose to his stubby cock. He forgot that he had to
control himself as well, and began to rub the rigid little cock
more frantically, bringing it to an ever harder erection as it
strained against the confines of his tight ivy league trousers,
begging for freedom. The dog would be first to warm her up, but he
would be next. He'd fuck her this time, and not shoot his wad of
sperm too fast like he had done before. He'd show her. His eyes
were glazed with obscene desires as he watched the reddish-brown
and white dog sniff at her frightened tightening pussy. He was
delighted that she was frightened, especially when the dog nosed at
the hot, wet lips of her open, pink cunt. Hang on baby and wait
for the real thing, he thought. Wait until he slips his tongue all
the way inside your hot little pussy, then you'll be ready for me.
His perverted mind raced with impatient obscenities as he took his
swollen cock in his hand and stroked it through the woolen
trousers. It won't be long now.
Big fuckin' Carl, Red thought, as he watched from his seat on
the dresser. He may be Wade's favorite, but I'm the best fucker.
Carl's a nut, him and his runty little cock. Christ, he don't care
about the dog fucking her, or even care about seeing her naked
pussy staring him in the face. Never seen anyone like him. He
just wants to see her scream and cry and beg for mercy, Not me,
though. Nope, I want that tight, little pussy wrapped around me.
Fuck Carl and his bag. I'll do it my way.
"You turnin' on, baby?" Red asked her, his face a lewd grin of
desire. "Does that big dog with his nose in your cunt make you
wanna fuck a real man?"
Red nearly fell off the dresser as his glazed eyes watched the
dog suddenly flick out his tongue, part the soft sparse pubic hair,
slip wetly along the pink quivering lips of her trembling pussy.
"Yeah, Jocko, make her beg for old Red. Yeah," he urged the
licking dog. "Get her ready for your old buddy, Red."
Yeah, she'd be ready, he thought. But ready for him and not
for Carl. Carl just wanted to see her suffer, but not Red, no, not
Red. He climbed off the dresser and walked to the bed. His sex
crazed eyes watched the dog as he cautiously slipped his tongue
along the fear trembling lips. He bent and looked at the girl's
horrified expression, her hips grinding defensively down into the
mattress, then he took one firm breast in his hand and began
kneading the pliant flesh slowly as he felt his long cock start to
rise in his pants. He saw the long pink tongue lap from the dog's
dark mouth and devour the juices that had begun to flow from the
helplessly writhing girl's cringing cunt. She was starting to turn
on, and he knew it wouldn't be long, because the dog was beginning
to grow frantic, like a hungry child. He could smell the growing
fire that brewed in her open crotch, defying everything that she
thought was right. Red pulled his half-hard cock from his pants
and began stroking it. His hand moved slowly as he imagined his
own tongue licking the dark dampness between her legs. As soon as
that dog was done, he thought. As soon as that bastard's done I'm
gonna get mine. Man, she don't want it now, but she will, and then
by God, she'll really turn on, no matter what she tells herself.
She'll really turn on.
It didn't matter what Wade had said about fucking the girl.
Every time he watched the St. Bernard start licking a girl he could
hardly control himself. Eagerly as he continued stroking his rigid
cock he leaned forward and watched the dog as it lapped up the
juices that were flowing like a river from the hair-lined lips of
her cunt. God, she don't want to, but she's really turning on, he
thought as he saw the pink bud of her clitoris standing taut,
luxuriating in the long, hard lapping of the excited dog's tongue.
Man, if I had a tongue like that, he thought, no bitch in the world
could turn me down. Not one! Dogs had the advantage of the long
rough tongue, but old Red could still do better he thought, as he
looked up at Carl, his eyes glued to the girl's contorted face.
Paula clenched her teeth as tight as she could. She couldn't
fight any longer but she had to resist. Her throat was tight with
fear and humiliation as she tried to commit mental suicide.
Nothing could be so bad, so perverted, yet here she was. Her eyes
burned from the salt of her sweat, but her hands couldn't reach to
wipe them clear. She strained again against the nylon cords, but
it was no use, her physical strength to resist was practically
gone.
Oh, God, she thought as she felt the panting dog's hot breath
burning against the tender flesh of her wide-spread thighs. The
hot tongue ran roughly against the quivering pink lips, brushing
against the tiny bud of her clitoris, forcing it to respond. No
man can do it, her tortured mind screamed. How can a beast like
this make me so hard? Only Sammy could do that, not the dog,
goddamnit, not the dog! The harder she tried to resist, the harder
the little bud became, growing with each rough brush of the St.
Bernard's animal tongue. For God's sake, don't bite me, don't bite
me! her mind whirled crazily. He would ruin her if he bit, and
then what use could she be to herself or Sammy. She waited, her
jaws clamped tightly shut, but instead of the huge canine teeth
tearing at the erect little bud, a soft rising pleasure began to
kindle in her loins. The long pink tongue continued to lick at her
trembling slit until the quivering flesh of her hair-lined pussy
began to involuntarily fill with warm flowing desire.
Her jaw released its pressure as her body began to submit to
the perverted desire. Her arms and legs stopped straining at their
bonds and relaxed, letting her body nuzzle slowly into the softness
of her mattress. Her hips stopped fighting and slowly lowered
themselves into the softness, followed by the drooling pink tongue
of the dog, lapping at the quivering slit. Paula gasped as the
rough wet tongue suddenly slipped inside the soft tight flesh of
her aching vagina and sunk far down into the liquid depths, tasting
the long awaited juices that boiled inside her. She couldn't
resist, and relaxed slightly, allowing the tongue to thrust further
inside the soft, quivering lips, lapping at the clasping hot, wet
walls of her vagina and turning constricted circles inside. The
giant dog was teasing the hot dark confines of her pussy, forcing
it to submit. She wanted to fight it, but her breath was beginning
to come in short gasps and she opened her mouth and sighed while
she tried to moisten her dry hungry mouth.
There seemed to be no escape from the burning desires that
built inside her, but she knew that she had to get away. Even in
her half-conscious state of sexual excitement, she realized that
she had to stop the dog, or she would no longer be able to control
herself. What if Sammy saw her? What if he knew that deep inside
her burning body the desire was building; desire created by an
oversexed beast that was bringing her closer to climax with every
wet, teasing lick of his long pink tongue. How could she face him
if she succumbed to the pressure of the hot lapping tongue and
ended the beastial scene in climax, cumming like an animal and
filling her burning pussy with the white hot juices of climax. She
would be no better than an animal, a wild bitch in heat with no
human compassion whatever.
It was her body that was responding, she wanted to think. It
was only the pure physical response, a response that she couldn't
control. There was no shame in that, no shame in having a healthy
sexual body that could respond to stimulation, but one side of her
mind had already told her differently. It wasn't her body alone
that wanted to be fucked. It was her own mind that drank the
pleasures of the dog's tongue. She wanted it to continue because
she liked it. She LIKED IT! No, No! She couldn't! she screamed
silently as she looked helplessly down between her upraised breasts
and watched the dog bury his nose in the dark fur between her legs.
Make him stop, all of you. For God's sake make him stop before
it's too late, but deep down she knew that even now it was too late
as she looked pleadingly into the lust-crazed eyes of her two
captors. It was too late!
"Yeah, baby, yeah," Red hissed through his yellowed teeth.
"Get with it, baby. You know how good it is."
Red, still sitting on the side of the bed leaned over and bit
her nipple as the dog continued to sink his tongue into the
trembling pink flesh of her aching pussy.
"How's that?" Red asked. "Jocko'd bite ya harder, but what
the hell, little bitch, you don't wanna be bit, do ya. No, baby,
you want that long red cock of his shoved as far into your cunt as
itll go, don't ya." Red hung his head over hers and bent to kiss
her, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Paula didn't respond at
all, not feeling anything but the long wet tongue licking the
clasping walls of her quivering cunt. The St. Bernard shoved his
nose harder against the hot wet opening, pushing the tip into the
trembling dark hole. He sniffed hard and long, trying to drag the
honeyed, hot smell deep into his lungs. "Yeah don't that feel
good," Red sneered at her. "When he takes his nose out and stuffs
his prick into your pussy you're gonna scream like hell. Why,
shit, he's bigger than any customer you ever had."
Red crushed his mouth against her full lips again and sucked
at her tongue, but she suddenly became aware of him and wouldn't do
as he wanted.
"The tongue, bitch," he commanded. "Give me your tongue, just
like the dog."
Slowly she obeyed, letting him take her tender wet tongue into
his mouth. It was just like a cunt, he thought, as he sucked at
it, pulling deep into his throat and sucking harder all the time.
He wanted to tease and torment her until she would beg them to
stop, but the real show was between her legs, and he stopped
sucking and started to watch the big dog as he too was being
overcome by obscene desire.
Carl watched her fear-contorted face as Red lifted his mouth
from hers. He knew that the girl couldn't suffer much more of the
indignities and still fight her own rising desires. The lusty hot
smell from between her legs incited Carl as well as the St.
Bernard. The huge dog wanted to lick the never-ending well of hot
juices dry, and started lapping furiously. She was a bitch ready
for fucking and he would give her everything his animal instinct
had. Carl could see the dog was ready as he bent forward to see
the rigid shaft pointing forward from the beast's hairy belly,
banging like a giant spear, twitching and throbbing with lust as it
waited for the command to sink its massive head into the dark wet
hole where his tongue now intruded.
But Carl wouldn't give the command, not yet. He knew that
Paula was near the breaking point, that she was responding
physically and mentally to the tongue's probings. It was only a
matter of moments until she would beg for the big cock, and then he
would give the order to the St. Bernard; the order to drive his
pulsing cock deep into her vulnerable hot pussy like a battering
ram until she shrieked with pain. Christ, it'd hurt her, but she
deserved it. She deserved to be fucked by a dog, fucked until
there was nothing left of her proud bitch-like pride. Yeah, he
thought, the dog'll hump her hot little pussy until she passes out,
and he'd make sure that Jocko wouldn't stop until he gave the
order. With all that cock he would tear the walls of her cunt
apart. That'd teach her, that'd teach her just like he had taught
so many other women who had laughed at him. They could laugh all
they wanted, but Carl would always have the last laugh.
"Ready, Jocko," he teased the big dog. "Yeah, you're ready,
big boy. Get her now, Fuck her, boy, fuck her 'til she screams for
mercy!"
Red grinned as his partner gave the command. He could see
Carl's stubby cock pushing against his trousers, spilling drops of
cum as it waited for final climax. His own throbbing cock jutted
straight out from his fly. It twitched spasmodically as he too
waited in lewd anticipation. But my time'll come, he thought as he
watched the huge animal lift itself up, move his front paws up
beneath her armpits and hover the huge red cock over her thighs,
getting a firm grip on the bed so he could ram his aching prick
into her fiery cunt. If I had that cock, Red thought, I'd be King
of the world.
Clumsily the dog probed for her aching pussy, pushing the
swollen red tip into the soft smoothness of her thighs again and
again in a vain effort to find the pulsating wet hole, but he would
not be as fast as she was. It was too late for the girl as the
first flashes of climax began to run through her body. She was
aware of only a huge hot form hovering over her sweating body. The
dog didn't exist, only the twitching red cock that poised over her
cunt. Her orgasm was building and she had no control over it as it
grew like a huge ocean wave coming down fast on a rocky coastal
cliff. She groaned softly as the dog poked at her and the electric
shocks that began her climax began shooting through every pore of
her tortured skin. She wanted to grab the giant cock and stick it
into her trembling pussy before it was too late, but her hands were
still bound and there was no amount of straining that would free
her. She pushed her hips upward in an effort to grab the throbbing
cock, but failed, and started clenching her buttocks in one final
effort to reach her orgasm. She had to cum, she had to release the
terrible aching want in her fiery, wet cunt.
Red's eyes were glued to the girl's undulating loins as they
strained up desperately for the giant cock. He had to see them
cum, he had to see the dog fuck her before she came. Quickly he
reached down and grabbed the St. Bernard's twitching cock with his
strong right hand. The dog jerked forward, thinking that he had
found the hole, then realized that he was being guided, and
temporarily relaxed. Red easily guided the throbbing cock forward
and put the hard red tip at the clasping opening of her burning
cunt and pushed it forward. It was ready now, he thought, and
released the rigid shaft, leaving the first half-inch inserted in
the clasping hole.
"Yeah, baby," he cooed to the dog. "You're ready big dog, now
fuck her hard!"
The lust-filled dog had never known such excitement. The
clasping pussy nearly sucked him in of its own volition before he
suddenly took control and drove his massive swollen cock deep into
her aching cunt, filling her with what seemed like all of his two
hundred pounds of animal muscle.
"Aaaaagggghhhhhhh!" Paula wailed as shocks of pain shot
through her tortured body. But it wasn't pain, it was pleasure,
luxurious pleasure that filled her body and scraped the wet
yearning walls of her cunt. There was no stopping now, it was too
late. Suddenly every muscle in her ravaged body twitched at once
and sent wild ripples of electricity smashing through her body as
her final wave of climax flooded through her abdomen spilling the
hot juices into her cunt. "Aaahhhh, Aaaahhhhhhh, Aaahhhhh, I'm
cumming!" she wailed like a wild uncontrolled animal, her naked
body twisting and writhing like a crazed mannequin in the last
untamed throes of her orgasm.
Suddenly she relaxed, completely exhausted. It was then that
she realized that a gigantic cock was still thrusting in and out of
her ravaged cunt. She felt it thrusting and pulling, in and out,
as she lay on the bed, her eyes closed as the massive prick
continued driving inside her. Carl, she thought, bald ugly Carl,
could it be Red. She was too tired to look. Neither of them had
fucked her for so long before. Neither of them had been able to
turn her on before, not until that huge dog had licked her into
oblivion. It was almost ... Oh God, no, not ... Not ... THE DOG!
Her eyes flashed open in horror and stared at the lust-maddened
form of the panting dog that continued humping her with all its
animal fury.
"Oh God, Noooo!" she screamed and tried to pull away from the
sex-crazed animal. It was too much for her. It wasn't just a cock
that was driving with brutal force deep into her aching cunt. It
was a dog. A giant St. Bernard that was fucking her like a bitch
in heat he had found on the street. This was the final defeat, the
final degradation. She had come from somewhere in the world to the
perverted bed of a dog, to be fucked at will. There could be no
turning back for her, no Sammy, no life in the future. She had
been beaten, destroyed by the horrible ravishing of a lust-crazed
animal. Her eyes began to bulge wide and roll about in her head as
she watched the animal continuing in his last breaths before
orgasm.
It was too much, watching the panting animal. She could see
that he was still excited, too excited to be stopped. He was a
huge cock, that's all. A cock that no man could ever possess, and
if she didn't stop him now, she might succumb once more to the
massive prick which rammed again and again into her hair-covered
pussy.
Already she could feel the juices starting to flow again from
her ravaged cunt and knew that she must stop them or she would cum
again. She couldn't stand it. She had to stop them!
"For God's sake," she begged, her voice punctuated by the
animal panting of the huge dog. "Get him off of me, please, get
him off!"
Carl towered above her, a lewd grin on his face. The proud
little bitch was begging just as he had predicted.
"What's the matter, Paula?" be sneered. "Is Jocko too much
for you, or too little?"
Red laughed as he watched Carl holding the leash out for the
girl to take. Goddamn! Carl just loved to humiliate them until
they didn't have a grain of pride left, he thought. That stubby
little cock of his can't handle a woman, so he makes them pay for
his own impotence. Christ, what a guy to have for an enemy.
"Oh God, Carl ..." she moaned. "Please make him stop!"
But Carl had no thought of making the big dog stop. His eyes
were glued to the girl's tortured face and his hands were both
glued to the stubby little bulge in his trousers, rubbing and
pulling at his leaking cock. His hot sperm was dripping freely,
soaking a large wet spot beside his fly, as his hands massaged the
cock to its fullest length, each stroke in perfect timing with the
St. Bernard as he continued to plunge his giant swollen cock deep
inside her fiery pussy.
Red smiled at the obscene spectacle before him. He watched
first the huge dog pummeling the girl, then Carl's hands as they
stroked his twitching little cock toward climax. Carl had tried
every trick in the book to fuck a girl, but he never made it last
long enough to get inside her. Red remembered with a grin all the
times he had watched Carl get all worked up watching the dog screw
different girls, then suddenly, when he finally had a hard-on,
shoot his wad in his pants. The stupid bastard, Red thought as he
watched, he'll never learn. In a few seconds he'll start to
twitch, and then it'll be over before he can get to her. Tough
shit. Let Carl watch all he wants to, and when the dog's done I'll
be ready.
Red had long ago decided that it was all a big show for him,
to get him ready to screw. Carl was no better than a two-year-old
when it came to women. Let old Red do the real screwing, that was
better anyway. He slid his hand over his rock-hard throbbing prick
and massaged it as it twitched up and down slowly in the cool air
conditioned room. Let some nut like Carl watch all he wants.
Pussy was for the real men, the men who could fuck it as well or
better than the big dog. That's what women really want. Red
smiled to himself as he stroked his massive throbbing cock in his
clenched fist. Man, I'll be ready he thought as he pulled the
reddened foreskin over the tip and stroked excitedly at the rigid
muscle, God, I'll be ready!
Paula had lost sight of the men and the dog. Her head was
rolling back and forth as her attention centered on the giant
pulsing cock that rammed again and again into her tender, fiery
cunt. The ripples of excitement were growing again, trembling
through her entire body as her obscene animal passion grew and
grew. There was nothing else but the red hot cock that filled her
with rigid muscle, a cock that would fill her again and again as so
many had in the past and so many would in the future. Her tortured
mind was on a psychedelic sex trip that would send her running
through hundreds of kennels on all fours, searching for bigger and
bigger dogs, trying them all for size; fucking them as hard and as
fast as she could. They were purple dogs, red dogs, weird green
dogs, all of them with long black teeth and gigantic foot-and-one-
half-long cocks driving into her tortured cunt, none of them able
to satisfy her completely. She tried to shut out the maniac
ramblings of her tormented mind. It was all a dream, a bad dream,
but it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop until she had fucked the
St. Bernard to his last ounce of strength. There was nothing for
her at this moment from his gigantic throbbing prick, driving and
pummeling her mercilessly, exactly the way she wanted it.
Her passion had won the battle as she raised her hips to meet
the smashing thrusts of the great dog, fighting to defeat him, to
cum again and again until neither of them could move. Her legs
strained at the nylon cords so that she might have more strength to
fuck.
"Oooooohhhhh, Oooooooohhh, Ooooooohhh," she moaned deliriously
with each thrust. "Now my darling doggie, I'm cumming nowwww!
Please, more, further, more, more!!"
The muscles seemed to begin exploding as she started to cum,
her body jerking high to meet the dog's driving cock. The St.
Bernard had come to the end of his endurance and began squealing
like a puppy as his sperm shot through his red twitching cock deep
into her clasping wet cunt. He was fucking her with a cock twice
the size of any normal man's, yet she was dying for more, crying
out in short gasps of pain and pleasure as the explosions grew and
her orgasm reached its climax hurriedly. She was coming and she
would out-fuck him, yes she would do it! She had to do it!
"Aaarrgghhhh," she wailed from deep within her throat as the
final whiplash of orgasm reached for her aching pussy and snapped
it like a whip. "AAaarrgghhh! I'm CUMMMINNNGGG!!"
* * *
As soon as her climax had slapped her into unconsciousness she
collapsed back onto the bed, unaware that the dog was still
spastically thrusting his quickly deflating cock into her lust-
spent pussy.
The St. Bernard didn't know that his last minute was almost
over as he continued to screw into the girl, each thrust becoming
shorter and shorter as his massive cock shriveled from exhaustion.
He pushed at her with all his two hundred pounds, jerking her body
back and forth on the mattress like a lifeless ragdoll.
He had done it! Carl Pearson had made her his slave. Now she
could no longer laugh at him, he thought as he watched her
unconscious form being jerked back and forth on the bed by the
dog's driving loins. She had laughed at him and had paid the price
of shame and humiliation which she deserved. She had defied him
and had defied the mob, but now she could become one of them again.
There was nowhere else for her to go. Carl Pearson was the victor.
He moved his eyes from her unconscious face to her ravaged crotch
where the giant St. Bernard's shriveling prick fought for one more
entry into her savagely raped vagina. Finally it fell free and he
hovered above the girl's body waiting for the command to get down.
He had done his job well, and satisfied his every animal instinct.
But Carl's animal instincts had not been satisfied. He
suddenly realized that he had only seconds left. His stuffy cock
was throbbing for release as his swollen oversized balls screamed
for him to cum. He looked up at the dog hovering over the girl's
still body. It was too late to try to move him, and frantically he
fumbled with the leash, trying to pull the dog away with one hand,
while pulling at his zipper with the other. God, he had to hurry
before it was too late. Now, Now, he thought, And jumped onto the
bed, oblivious to Red who sat beside the girl's head watching with
a sardonic grin spread across his rough face. She wasn't done yet,
Carl screamed to himself while whimpering out loud. One more
triumphant act of degradation and debasement, his piece
d'resistance. Yeah, he thought as he pulled the stubby erection
from his pants. I'll make her suck it until the juices fill her
hot woman mouth. Carl Pearson, woman conquerer, I'll ... I'll ...
But it was too late! Even as he pulled the short fat cock
from his pants the first spurts of cum started to shoot from the
vertical slit on the end. He couldn't do it now. He couldn't make
her suck him, he thought as tears filled his eyes and rivulets of
sperm shot into his palm, covering his hand. No, no, he cried
silently as the twitching little cock shot burst after burst of
white hot juice into his upraised palm. He had almost made it. He
had almost made it! "Oh God," and a sob broke from his tight
retching throat. Crying like a baby he got off the bed, staring
all the time at the juices in his palm. He had come so close, he
thought as he stumbled toward the bathroom. Mommy, I almost did
it!
Red snickered to himself as Carl stumbled toward the bathroom,
crying. He had seen Carl do the same thing so many times before
that he was no longer sorry for him. He says I'm stupid, he
thought, but stupid or not, I can fuck any woman, and he can't fuck
one. I don't need any of that mean crap to get me hard. All I
have to do is look at a tight little pussy in pants and I get
turned on. But this baby, he thought, looking at Paula's
unconscious form beside him. This baby don't have no pants on at
all. She's got nothing on, just ready and willin' for ol' Red, and
By God, I'm gonna have some of that pussy. I've never seen one
fuck like her, and I'm gonna get me a big piece of it.
He still massaged his massive prick as it stuck out from his
pants. Everyone had his turn, and now Red would get his, he
thought as he reached over and pulled at the girl's upraised
breast.
"Come on, bitch," he said softly, proud of himself for being
the last one left. "It's old Red's turn to get some of your
action. Now come on and wake up, Goddamn it. A whore's never got
time to sleep, you know that!"
Paula didn't move and he slipped his fingers to the soft bud
of her nipple and pinched it hard, thinking it would revive her.
"Come on, goddamnit!" he snarled. "Nap time is over!"
Slowly Paula rolled her head toward him and opened her eyes,
trying to focus on where she was and what she saw. He was kneeling
on the bed and she could see the red pulsing tip of his cock as it
hovered near her head. She could feel the burning pain of his
fingers as he pinched her tender breasts. No, it wasn't the dog.
It was ... Red! Big hairy Red!
She forced herself to focus on the waving head of his massive
prick in front of her eyes and realized that he wasn't through with
her yet, that he had something else for her to do.
"Please," she whimpered in her mental agony. "Leave me alone.
Haven't you done enough?"
Red said nothing, but inched his throbbing prick forward
toward her red lipsticked mouth.
Instead of accepting his massive, jerking organ, she cried in
anguish and pulled with her last bit of strength at the nylon
cords.
"Come 'ere," he snarled at her, frightening her by the
roughness in his voice.
She knew that he meant business, that there was no escaping.
Carl had already degraded and humiliated her more than she had
thought possible, and now, Red! Red was going to make her suck his
own pulsating penis. She fought with herself in anguish, not
knowing what to do, not knowing what she wanted.
"You really think you're hot stuff, don'cha? You think
because you fucked that lousy dog half to death that you're the
greatest little piece of ass in the world. Christ, you whore,
you're nothin' but what I say you are. Any bitch who could enjoy
an animal's cock like you do doesn't deserve anything but what
she's told to deserve!"
Paula could see that he was angry with her, but his voice was
more mocking than angry. Everything he had said was true. She had
fucked the dog twice, and worse yet, she had enjoyed every inch of
the foot-long animal cock as it had pummeled her so viciously. He
was right, she was nothing but a whore, and would always be nothing
but a whore! How could she ever forgive herself?
"Yeah," Red sneered at her. "I'm right and you know it. You
gave that dog every fucking thing you could, and now, godamnit,
it's my turn and you won't say no!"
Suddenly he grabbed her head and pulled it toward his
throbbing cock.
"That's it, baby!" he whispered. "That's what you're gonna
suck."
Paula pulled away from his grip and strained at the cords.
"Bitch!" he howled and pulled her hard, nearly yanking her
hair from her head. She could feel the searing pain run through
her scalp as his thick, strong hands held her firmly.
"Nooo, Please," she wailed.
Hearing the girl's cry, the St. Bernard looked up and whined.
She was his and he didn't want to see her hurt, but Red was his
master, and the decision was too much for the dog to make. He
couldn't choose between the two. Instead of acting, he bent down
and continued licking his deflated cock, soothing the harsh
soreness she had given him by fucking him so hard.
"What'sa matter, Jocko," Red asked the dog in his friendliest
voice. "Don't cha know who's boss around here?"
The St. Bernard looked up questioningly.
"Come 'ere, big dog," he commanded.
Eagerly the St. Bernard got to his feet and walked to his
master. He paused when Red pointed to the girl's dark furry
triangle, and turned his head to sniff the still hot scent of his
sperm mixed with her juices. Vaguely his animal memory recalled
the wild fucking that he had had from her fiery vagina, and he
nuzzled close to the hair-lined lips of her pussy trying to recall
the sensation.
"Maybe he wants some more," Red quipped. "You gave him the
real treatment."
"Please, Red, stop." she sobbed as tears filled her eyes. She
could never forget what she had done with the dog, the fantastic
wild sexual passion. Never again could she be the same. But ...
"Please, Red, I'll do anything you say. Just make him stop."
Red looked at her, pleasure spreading across his face. Now he
knew what Carl felt when the girls begged him. It did feel good,
in fact, it felt great. He, too, had become a master, able to make
beautiful women do as he wished. He looked at the girl, and shooed
the dog away, slipping one hand at the same time back to his
throbbing penis. Yeah, he was a king now, and she knew it. He
continued stroking the swollen organ. For once in his life he knew
what power was, and he was enjoying it.
"OK, baby, we'll even make things comfortable for you, if
you're good."
"Please, Red," she begged, looking at the bonds that held her
tightly, cutting into her wrists and ankles.
"Sure, baby, sure, but first we'd better get something
straight."
"Red, really, I'll do anything you say, anything just untie
me."
"Fine, as soon as you tell me you'll suck me off."
Paula couldn't believe her ears. He wasn't going to treat her
any better than Carl had. How vulgar, how ugly. Hadn't they had
enough after watching her being mercilessly ravished by the dog?
Why did he have to say that, why did he have to be so cruel?
"O.K.," she murmured, in hopeless defeat. There was nothing
else she could do.
"What," he said, putting his free hand to his ear.
"I said, O.K.," she whispered.
"That's not what I mean, bitch," he growled. "You're gonna
suck me off, then we're gonna fuck. Now goddamn it ... say it like
you mean it!"
"Ohhh ..." she started, but controlled herself. "I'm-I'm
going to suck your cock, then we're going to fuck." she whimpered
hoarsely.
"Right!" he said gleefully in triumph.
Paula looked at him with disgust but said nothing.
"O.K., baby," he said as he began to untie the nylon cords.
"I'll do anything, you say. If you wanna suck me off and then let
me fuck you, I'll be glad to."
Red hummed to himself as he quickly untied the knots. Yeah,
he thought, she's my slave and I'll do what I want. If she's as
good at suckin' as she is at fuckin', I'm gonna have a ball.
"How's 'at," he said proudly as he undid the last nylon cord.
Paula didn't answer as she sat up. Her ankles and wrists
burned from the terrible pain where the cord had cut through her
skin. Slowly she started to get up, but as she did, Red's heavy
hand pushed down on her shoulder and she obeyed the pressure and
got to her knees.
"That's better," he murmured. "You'll have a better shot at
it from down there. I hope your mouth's big enough."
He grasped her hair in his hands and pulled her head to the
rubbery head of his swollen cock, probing her half open mouth with
the wet tip.
"Come on, baby," he said obscenely. "You're about to earn
your freedom."
His massive hands moved her unwilling head from side to side,
making the drops of hot sperm smear across her lips. She didn't
want to do it, but what else was left. She had suffered the worst
possible humiliation and felt that she wasn't worth anything,
anyway.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned between her teeth as the fiery tip
pressed against her lips and she started to part them.
"Let's see ya do it like ya did it to Sammy," he ordered.
Poor Sammy, she thought as she hesitantly opened her mouth and
allowed the first half inch of smooth raw flesh to enter her tender
passage. Slowly she opened wider as he pushed his hips forward
until almost three inches of the throbbing cock rested in her
mouth, teasing her hard wet tongue.
"Hot, isn't it," Red said eagerly, his breath becoming short.
"I'll bet you haven't sucked one like that in a long time."
It was hot, she thought. It burned with the fires of hell
from deep within his groin. The rigid shaft pulsed in her mouth,
rising and falling spasmodically as it twitched against her tongue.
She looked at the black curly hairs that surrounded the base of the
massive pulsing prick and closed her eyes. Suddenly she was in a
different world, it was no longer contained in the burning fires of
hell. Instead it contained the relaxing heat of a sauna bath,
soothing the insides of her wet mouth and moistening it with the
white burning liquids that leaked from the slit on the end of the
fleshy probing instrument. The taste and warmth suddenly became
like hot milk to Paula, hot milk that she needed to warm her
insides and nourish her ravaged body. She sucked at it harder to
draw more juices, but for the moment they seemed to have stopped.
She could feel the massive throbbing cock pulsing against the back
of her throat and started curling her tongue, massaging the
underside of the rigid shaft. It was growing harder and hotter and
she could. feel the warm milk coming again from the tip, flowing
in small rivulets down the hot confines of her eager hungry throat.
She pulled her head away slightly and grasped the huge cock with
her hands, rubbing and stroking it, trying to milk it like a cow,
forcing the hot juices into her mouth. She needed that milk, she
needed it.
Red could hardly control himself against the girl's sucking
mouth. She was fantastic, better than he had ever expected. He
felt her tugging at his pantleg trying to get a good grip so she
could move her head back and forth along the lust-maddened cock.
Her head bobbed slowly at first, her mouth sucking each time she
moved. It was driving him crazy with passion, excited to the point
where he had no control. Whatever she did was all right, whatever
way she wanted to suck or fuck him was all right.
As her head bobbed back and forth, sucking the huge throbbing
cock, Paula could feel the aching walls of her trembling pussy
suddenly helplessly crying for more, crying to be fucked by the
pulsating prick. She knew as she sucked harder that if she let him
cum in her mouth, it would be too late for him to fuck her, and she
wouldn't get the satisfaction. He was the master. He had forced
her to suck his aching cock, but now, now she had become the
leader. She knew that she could make him do anything as long as
she satisfied his lust-maddened desires.
Slowly she pushed her hands against his belt and began
unfastening it. She had to have his cock sunk deep into her wet
hot cunt, she needed to be fucked again and he was the last one
left. Easily she unfastened his pants, all the time, still sucking
at the throbbing prick as it rose toward climax. She didn't suck
quite as hard for a minute, trying to hold him back until she could
wrap her cunt walls around the long hard sinewy flesh of his rigid
prick. He was the master, but her need was greater. She had to
satisfy the roaring fires beneath the tortured, swollen lips of her
pussy. She had to ...
Gingerly she pushed him towards the bed only a foot away while
his pants slid down his hairy muscular thighs. Red didn't know
what she wanted, but took two small steps backward and felt his
legs against the bed. Who cares what she does, as long as she
doesn't stop the exquisite sucking at the throbbing tip of his
cock. Suddenly she pushed him backwards again and he fell onto the
bed unexpectedly.
"No," he growled as if suddenly deprived.
He felt her mouth slip off his massive cock with a loud
sucking noise. It was crazy and exciting when her mouth came off,
but she couldn't stop. "No, don't stop!" his mind screamed, but
before he could protest again she jumped onto the bed like a wild
animal and straddled him. The silken pubic hair between her open
thighs hovering only an inch above his twitching cock. She looked
down at him, knowing that he wouldn't protest, and slid her fingers
over the moist trembling flesh of her pussy, spreading the wet lips
for a moment, running a fingernail over the swollen bud of her
excited clitoris.
"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned at the exquisite feeling of desire
that shuddered through her sweating body.
Red looked up at her as her fingers passed along the open wet
slit. He could see that she was turned on like no other woman had
ever been. Small droplets of semen hung from her full red lips
like cooling candlewax. He looked back at her trembling fingers
just in time to see her spread the quivering hair-lined lips and
lower her aching wet pussy over the rubbery head of his rigid
throbbing cock. She gasped slightly as the tip touched the burning
flesh of her cunt and lodged in the open wet hole. Involuntarily
her aching cuntal walls clenched in muscular spasms trying to suck
the massive cock deep up inside. Now she was ready, now she would
be fulfilled her sex crazed mind screamed as she suddenly sank down
upon the throbbing prick and filled her dark wet pussy with the
rock hard flesh. She would fuck him just like the dog, fuck him
until he couldn't take any more fuck him until she couldn't take
any more. She was no more than a sex machine, a walking mass of
sexual flesh that would fuck until she could never fuck again.
"FUCK!" screamed her tortured lips out into the open air.
"Oooooh FUCK!" and her smooth, hollowing buttocks began a wild
uncontrolled, pumping motion up and down on the hard, rigid cock
sunk deep up between her straddling thighs.
"Do it to me, do it to me! Never stop! Never stop!"
Chapter 8
"Jeff Lee, please," Sammy Wynn said hurriedly into the
telephone.
He listened as Jeff's secretary told him that her boss wasn't
in the office at the moment. Goddamn, Sammy thought, he can't be
out. If he wants the story he's got to see me. Sammy knew that he
couldn't wait long because the mob would be after him. The two
hoods at Paula's would know that he had left a warning for her when
she didn't show up. He knew she was safe, but they would be
hunting for them both.
"Look," he said to the secretary. "Tell, him I've got the
information he needs on Wade Jackson, but he's got to hurry. I'll
be waiting at the bar in the Hilton Hotel. Tell him to hurry,
because he might be in trouble."
* * *
Sammy looked up from his drink at the grey-haired man who
stood framed in the doorway. He waited as the distinguished
looking young man entered and walked toward him.
"Are you Jeff Lee?" he asked from his stool.
"You wanted to see me," Jeff answered, cautiously. He didn't
want to be caught in a trap.
Sammy motioned toward one of the booths near the corner and
they walked through the mass of convention delegates who were
standing in the center of the room. Delegates had a habit of
convening in bars before each session while they made sure their
loyalties and plans were still in order.
Sammy spoke first: "I work for Wade Jackson."
A bribe, Jeff thought when the young man spoke. Wade must be
getting pretty uncomfortable to send a kid to offer him a bribe.
The mob underestimated Jeff Lee's integrity. As far as crime was
concerned, he had no price and could not be bought.
"I think I've got what you want on Wade Jackson," Sammy
continued. "I've been with him for two weeks as a collector, and
already I know about a fourth of the girls who work for him, and
can name the other men that work with him. What do you think?"
"Go ahead," Jeff said, his interest stirred.
"First, we've gotta make a deal."
So that's it, Jeff thought. Some punk who wants out of the
mob the easy way.
"No deals," Jeff told him. "I can't make any deal for the
district attorney's office. If you want immunity from the law,
you'll have to talk to them."
But Sammy had another surprise for Jeff.
"It's not the law I'm worried about," he whispered, not
wanting any of the nearby convention delegates to hear him. "I
want immunity from Wade Jackson."
Jeff Lee was impressed. Here was a young man, he thought, who
not only had realized his mistake, but didn't mind paying for it.
He just didn't want to die at the hands of the syndicate.
"What makes you think you'll need protection from them?" Jeff
asked. "We can keep everything quiet enough so that they won't
know it's you who gave me the information."
That'd be great, Sammy thought, but impossible. He had a
vivid picture of Carl and Red waiting furiously in Paula's living
room waiting for her to return. After Sammy had already failed to
appear at Wade's command twice in a row, they would all know why
when they got their subpoenas in a few days. Sammy would need more
than just a little protection. Besides, there was someone else for
him to consider.
"It's not just for me," he said. "There's a girl involved,
and well, I don't want her hurt either."
Always a woman involved, Jeff thought as he suddenly
remembered his own wife. If Pamela were involved in this thing it
would be better for me, easier, but Pamela wasn't the only woman
that now occupied his thoughts. Carmen, the Cuban dancer had made
him remember what a real woman was like in bed, wild and inhibited.
Thinking of her as he considered Sammy's request, he felt a little
guilty, yet justified in having screwed her. After all, he had
done it in the line of duty, trying to get information on Wade
Jackson. Although he couldn't use her for a witness she had
provided him with almost all the links to the chain that would jail
Jackson for good.
But he had been unfaithful to his wife. He had gone to bed
with a prostitute because his wife couldn't satisfy him. She
couldn't give him the physical pleasures that he had found with the
Cuban girl. His love of his wife was more of a spiritual thing
than physical. She couldn't excite him with salacious talk or the
obscene displays of her body that Carmen used to entice and arouse
the deepest animal passions that lay in the minds and bodies of
every man. Pamela just wasn't enough woman for him. She may as
well be sexually non-existent. Jeff wondered if Sammy's girlfriend
was as much a woman in bed as Carmen.
"Who's the girl?" Jeff asked.
"She works for Wade," Sammy replied defensively. "She's one
of his prostitutes."
Jeff stared at the young man for almost a minute before
speaking. So Sammy did have a real woman, he thought. He wondered
how Sammy felt about knowing all the men his girlfriend had been
screwed by. Maybe it excites him, maybe he just doesn't care.
That would have to be love, Jeff thought, knowing that he couldn't
love his wife if she went to bed with another man, especially if
she knew how to do all the things that Carmen did with her mouth,
and with the furry little animal that breathed between her legs.
"Who is she?" Jeff asked.
"Her name's Paula Moore," Sammy told him. "She doesn't know
I'm here yet, but she'll talk if I tell her. She's in big trouble
with Jackson and his henchmen. That's the main reason I'm here.
Two of his men came to her apartment this morning when I was there.
They had a huge St. Bernard with them, and when I left I overheard
them talking about how they were going to use the dog to punish her
for the mistake that she had made."
Jeff listened, amazed at the cruelty that Jackson and his
hoods used to get their petty revenge.
"... So that's how I heard about you," Sammy continued.
"They're going to do something to you too, and I thought you'd want
to be warned. That's why I wanted to tell you everything I know.
If you're after them, then you can help me. There's no one else
that I can turn to."
Jeff sat for a minute thinking about what Sammy had said. He
tried to picture the two hundred pound St. Bernard driving his hard
pink penis in and out of the girl's crotch, but his imagination
would not allow him to view the thought for long. He remembered
hearing about such things when he was in the service, but he always
thought it too far below him to even imagine such a thing, and now
he had met a man whose girlfriend had almost suffered the same
fate.
"Do you know if she got the note?" Jeff asked him.
"I'm not sure," he answered. "But she said she always gets
the mail in the morning, so she must have. I told her to get a
hotel room and call me here at noon."
Jeff looked at his watch and back at the young man sitting
across from him.
"It's one-thirty now," he said. "Maybe we'd better find her
before we go on. If they did get to her, she's going to need a
doctor."
Sammy looked at his own watch. God, it was late. He didn't
realize that they had been talking for so long, but she had to be
alright, she just had to. If Carl and Red had gotten hold of her
she could be dead, or worse. That dog could have driven her
insane.
"Come on," Jeff said, getting up from his seat. "We'll split
up and try to find her, then we'll talk."
Just as Sammy nodded and started to rise, a waiter brought a
telephone to the table and plugged it into the wall.
"It's for you, Mr. Lee."
"Hello," he said into the receiver.
"Oh, Mr. Lee," his secretary's voice said. "I'm so glad I've
found you. A man called. I think he said he was a doctor or
something. You're supposed to call home right away. He wasn't
very clear, but said that something was wrong and you should call
home immediately."
Pamela! he thought. God, what was wrong? She could be sick
or hurt, or anything.
"O.K." he said. "I'll call her right away."
Jeff hung up the phone and looked at Sammy.
"My wife's sick, or something. I've got to call home. Look,
you get started in some of the spots you know," he said. "Start
with her apartment. I'll get in touch with my contacts as soon as
I find out about my wife. Call me at my office later on."
Sammy agreed and quickly left the bar, worried about what he
might find at Paula's apartment. As he left the room, Jeff turned
to the telephone and dialed his home number.
The phone rang once, twice, then ...
"Hello Mr. Lee," Wade Jackson's voice came over the receiver.
Chapter 9
Pamela Lee sat in her kitchen draining the contents of her
tenth cup of morning coffee. It was nearly noon and she had spent
the last few hours going over her proposed guest list for the
Charity Ball that her husband objected to so often.
Jeff always seems to make things harder for me, she thought as
she got up from the table. Pamela knew that her social commitment
was important to Jeff's career, but he would hear none of it. As
far as he was concerned, her seven-day-a-week society schedule was
a complete waste of time. If only he could understand that she was
doing it for him, she thought. He was so intelligent and worldly,
yet he would not give the slightest bit of ground when it came to
social contacts.
"Absurd," she said aloud as she walked into the large bathroom
and turned on the light. Silently she reached over and turned on
the bath water, checking for the right temperature. Her active
mind stopped thinking about her husband for a moment and she turned
her attention to her image in the mirror. She slipped her robe
from her soft shoulders and automatically hung it on a hook. The
bath water was heating the room and she took a deep breath of the
steamy air, feeling it caress her lungs with its dampness.
"Mmmmm," she moaned softly and stretched her arms high above
her head, loosening her long supple muscles.
Her eye caught her image in the mirror and she clinically
examined herself. Not bad, she thought, not bad at all for a
thirty year old woman. She ran her eyes along the graceful lines
of her stretched body, observing the firm roundness of her breasts
and the sleek sensuous curve of her hips. She lowered her arms and
touched her hands to her breasts, tensing for a moment at the
tingling sensation that shot through her thighs.
It was always the same, she thought to herself as her fingers
toyed with the pink buds of her nipples. Every time she touched
herself there softly, the tingling would start in her thighs, and
sometimes, when she weakened, she would hold her fingers on her
breasts, caressing the nipples until they hardened and small
droplets of warm moisture would form at the mouth of her vagina.
It seemed so strange, and really, even good. But Pamela had
listened to her mother for twenty seven years, and whatever mother
said was right. She could remember the older woman telling her of
the ugly grunting that men made when they made love with their big
hairy bodies.
Pamela could not understand why her husband would get so
passionate, almost animal-like, she thought. She ran her fingers
down her body, slowly stroking the soft skin while she recalled the
last time she and Jeff had made love. He had been rough as always,
consumed in his animal desire. He never hurts me, she thought, but
he's never tender. He never touches me like this.
As she thought about her husband's sweating body rocking back
and forth on top of her, her fingers sought the soft silken hair
that grew at the apex of her thighs, and experienced the same
tingling that she had when she had touched her breasts. She
remembered that her mother had told her that a woman's body was to
be treasured, and cared for. Maybe it would tingle when Jeff
touched her too, if only he could be more gentle and civilized, she
thought as her fingers explored the trembling pink lips of her
vagina. If he could be gentle I might even enjoy myself, too.
This was the farthest that Pamela Lee had ever gone when
thinking about sex. Always before her mother's words had had the
power to curb the rising desire that she felt when she touched the
soft roundness of her breasts. But this time her fingers had
wandered between her thighs and were causing her mother's words to
fade into the background.
Suddenly her whole body trembled and she tried to shake off
the rising desire that flooded her moistening vagina. Once before,
ten years ago, she had felt the same passion rise in her loins.
She remembered sliding her finger back and forth across the
quivering lips until the tiny bud of her clitoris rose to erection.
There had been no turning back that time, and she had fallen into a
frenzy of masturbation, rubbing the finger harder and harder, until
suddenly her whole body had shaken with convulsions, leaving her
weak.
As she looked into the mirror she saw that her jaw had gone
slack, leaving her face in a mask of lust-incited desire.
"Ooooohhh," she moaned aloud.
She couldn't do it again, she just couldn't. Pamela
remembered the tremendous guilt that she had harbored the last time
she masturbated. It was wrong, wrong, but it felt so nice.
Please, she begged herself, please stop this torture. She seemed
to be like another person in the mirror, her face contorted with
the need for orgasm and the terrible guilt that she felt.
As suddenly as she had begun, she stopped. With all her
willpower she removed her wet fingers from the warmth of the hair
lined lips between her legs and breathed a sigh of relief. She had
won, but still the embers of passion smouldered in her yearning
body.
The bath, she thought, the hot bath would soothe the ache that
she felt and make her forget what she had almost done.
Gingerly she lowered herself into the steaming tub, feeling
the hot water slap at the white moons of her soft buttocks. The
heat surrounded her thighs as she sank lower, surging between her
thighs like ocean waves.
"Mmmmm," she moaned aloud and allowed her sleek, firm body to
sink into the tub, nearly submerging herself.
She sat back and pulled a washcloth from beside her. Pamela
looked at her breasts as they rose and fell above the water in slow
even rhythm. It'll stop, she thought as she felt the hot bathwater
mix with the warm juices that had lubricated her aching vagina.
Here I am, a grown woman, and yet I can't enjoy sex. I have to sit
in a bathtub and soak away the desire while my husband is out
chasing prostitutes.
I wonder what a prostitute looks like, she thought as she
soaped the tips of her breasts. Do they look like a normal woman,
or are they painted and sleazy. For a moment she tried to picture
a professional whore, but the woman she saw in her mind was in bed
with her husband, and she immediately erased the image. How can
they stand to have all those men sticking their big brutal penises
into them.
She shook her head in disgust at the thought of hundreds of
hairy men climbing in and out of her bed. God, not my bed, not
ever, she thought. Prostitutes couldn't possibly enjoy it, they
just couldn't.
Pamela raised one leg and ran the lathery cloth along the trim
tanned skin, nearly laughing out loud when she remembered what Jeff
had said about Wade Jackson. Mr. Jackson was an outstanding member
of the community, she thought, and would never resort to such a
depraved thing.
"Oh Damn!" she said aloud as the doorbell suddenly chimed,
breaking her train of thought.
She pulled herself from the tub and reached for her robe as
the bell rang again.
"I'm coming," she yelled as she half ran across the living
room, tying the belt of her robe as she went.
"Oh!" she gasped as she swung open the door and stared into
the face of Wade Jackson. "Why, Mr. Jackson, I was just thinking
about you."
"Really," he said. "I'm flattered."
Pamela had never met Wade Jackson before, but had seen his
picture often. She was impressed and pleased that he had come to
her home, though she didn't particularly care for the looks of the
two seedy looking men that had come with him.
"Won't you come in, please," she said, at the same time
opening the door wider and gesturing for them to enter. "I hope
you'll forgive the way I look. You caught me in the bath."
"No, you look fine," Wade told her, "Just fine."
"Let me get you some coffee," she said hurriedly. "It'll only
take a minute."
Wade thanked her and walked to the sofa. His two companions
stood by the door, their arms crossed over their chests like Roman
Gladiators. Wade was holding himself back, wanting to find out
just how much Jeff Lee's wife knew before he would order his
bodyguards to take her into the bedroom and strip the robe from her
back. He was pleased that they had entered the house so easily.
Maybe she doesn't know anything, he thought, that would make it
even better. It would make her more innocent, and therefore more
shocked when the two men would throw her on to the bed and degrade
her like a common whore with their long hard pricks. Yeah, he
thought, she's really in for it.
Jeff Lee's wife brought a tray of cups with a coffee serve
into the living room and set it on the table by the sofa.
"Cream or sugar?" she asked the three men.
"I take sugar," Wade replied. "But I always bring my own.
You ought to try it."
His own sugar, Pamela thought as she took the packet that he
handed her. She didn't want to of fend him, and so she poured the
fine white granules into her coffee.
Wade watched with delight as she stirred her coffee, then
brought the cup to her lips and took a long sip. She's in for it
now, he thought. Women are so damn dumb, she'd probably take
poison if I offered it, but this is better. She's got enough
Spanish Fly in that coffee to make her fuck a whole regiment.
Pamela smiled at Wade as she sipped the hot coffee. "It's
good," she told him. "It's different, but very good."
While Pamela drank, Wade asked her about a few of her society
friends, all of them acquaintances of his. He wanted her to finish
her drink before he told her the real purpose for his visit. By
the time she finished the hot drink the Spanish Fly would already
be at work.
"Put the cup down," he suddenly ordered, his voice hard and
cool.
Pamela obeyed, not understanding what had suddenly made him
change his manner. She tried to shake her head, not knowing what
was making everything so hazy, so unreal. She suddenly felt the
electric tingling returning to her thighs and looked to see if her
hand had slipped between her legs. Something was wrong she thought
with sudden alarm, but what?
"This is no social call," Wade said as he stood up and hooked
his thumbs in his belt. "Your husband has made himself my enemy by
snooping around where he doesn't belong. If he's not careful he's
going to get hurt."
"But I don't understand," Pamela said weakly. "I know Jeff's
got some crazy ideas, but he's all wrong. I know he's wrong."
"No baby," he said, a sneer crawling across his face. "You're
the one who's wrong, not your husband. And now he's getting too
close for comfort, so we're gonna give him a little warning."
"W-what do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling with a
growing fear.
"You'll find out in a minute," he told her and motioned to one
of the men behind him. "You just sit tight and listen to this,
then tell me what you think of your hypocritical husband."
Pamela sat hypnotized with fear as the man set a small black
case on the table and opened it. What could they possibly want,
she thought as the man switched a tiny knob on the portable tape
recorder.
Suddenly she jerked her head as she heard Jeff's voice on the
recorder. But he wasn't alone and he sounded excited, more excited
than she had ever heard him.
"The girl's name is Carmen," Wade told her with an ugly grin
on his face. "Your precious Jeff was with her last night, in her
apartment."
Pamela trembled as she heard the grunting animal sounds that
were coming from the tape recorder. This couldn't be Jeff, it just
couldn't. He'd never been unfaithful to her, yet it was
unmistakably his voice.
"Oooooohhhhh," the Cuban girl's voice came through the
speaker. "Push it in more, Jeff. It feels so good!"
Pamela's eyes were filling with tears as she listened to her
husband.
"Oh, baby," he grunted. "My wife was never like this. Nobody
can fuck like you. Nobody!"
Oh, Jeff! she cried silently to herself. How could you do
it. It was her own husband in bed with a prostitute and enjoying
it like an animal. She had never heard him even say "fuck" before,
and now she listened as he muttered greater and greater obscenities
at a strange girl in bed.
"Suck me again," Pamela suddenly heard her husband's voice
command and she felt the tingling between her thighs. It was so
awful, yet, somehow, it almost seemed natural. She thought that he
should be saying that to her, and not some stranger. But how ugly.
That other woman was actually going to put a man's penis in her
mouth and suck it! But worse, not just any man's penis. It was
her husband who was getting sucked and milked until his sperm would
fill the girl's throat.
"Aaarrggghhhhh, Fuck!! I'm cummmiinnngg," she heard Jeff's
voice wail over the tape recorder.
"Oh!" Pamela gasped. He had done it. He had really cum in
that girl's mouth, swearing all the time. What kind of a brute had
she married? What had gone wrong? She loved Jeff with all her
heart, yet he had gone to a prostitute. She should have loved him
more with her body, she thought as the tears streamed down her
face. Now it was too late. She could never face him again, not
after what he had done.
"Like that?" Wade's voice suddenly broke in. "I thought you
would. Your Jeff isn't what you thought."
"It's not true," she defended. "That couldn't have been
Jeff."
"You and I both know different, baby." she heard him say.
"Lee's got a lot of hot cock. But, I can't understand why he had
to go dipping it in some whore when he's got a broad like you."
"Oh!" she exclaimed indignantly. "How dare you talk like that
to me."
"You won't be a lady for long, sweetheart," he grinned at her.
Pamela stood up suddenly but began to fall. What's happening,
she thought, as she tried to regain her balance. Nothing seemed
real. The room was lopsided and Wade's voice seemed tinny, like
the tape recorder. Carefully she grabbed the edge of the couch and
held herself still. The obscene words from the tape were still
coming from the machine. Pamela could hear Carmen's pleas to Jeff,
begging him to eat her until she came. As repulsive as the lewd
pleadings sounded, Pamela seemed to understand the Cuban girl's
need, a need she had never experienced before. The rantings had
triggered the nerves between Pamela's supple thighs and she felt
warm wet liquids suddenly seeping from the hair-covered lips of her
vagina. She suddenly imagined Jeff's head between her thighs, his
tongue slithering over her swollen clitoris in agonizing pleasure.
No, she thought, revolted at her own thoughts. Oh God, no!
"Stop that sniveling," Wade ordered her as he motioned to his
two men to come to the couch. "We've wasted enough time."
Pamela suddenly cringed as a heavy hand grabbed her by the arm
and started to propel her toward the bedroom.
"W-What are you doing?" she cried. "Leave me alone."
But the man who held her arm only laughed. Through her tears
she could see his dark face covered with an obscene grin. No man
had ever touched her so roughly before. Jeff would make him pay,
yes Jeff would help her. But wait, she thought, Jeff's no longer
my husband. I could never have him back. Oh God, what's wrong
with me? Jeff, she pleaded silently. Jeff, please help me.
"Baby, you're a regular wildcat," the man said as he threw her
onto the bed. "You're fightin' like hell, but we both know you
want some cock, don't we?"
"Yeah," Wade interrupted from the doorway. "All of us know
that you want some cock. And we mean to see that you get all you
can handle."
"Please," Pamela begged. "Don't do this to me. I've never
hurt you. Oh, please!"
"Christ," the third man said. "We ain't done nothin' yet, and
she's already beggin'."
Frightened, Pamela looked at the man's eyes and saw that he
was staring at her. She grabbed at her robe and pulled it tight to
her body. They all look so mean, she thought. They're all
animals, just like Jeff said. Please, don't let them look at me
like that.
"Wow," he continued. "A chick like you oughta be a better
fuck than your husband says you are. He just doesn't know how to
go about it the right way. I'll bet you're the wildest little
piece of ass in Miami."
Pamela recoiled in horror at his obscene words. They couldn't
talk to her like that. She was a lady, and part of Miami's high
society, not just some common whore.
"Stop it," she yelled, feeling stronger. "Get out of here,
all of you, or my husband will make you pay for the rest of your
lives!"
"Sure, baby," Wade said as he walked toward the bed. You go
right ahead and tell Jeff all about it, that is, if you can find
him. He's probably in the sack with some other whore right now
enjoying her hot pussy wrapped around his big prick. But don't you
worry. He'll be calling in a few minutes to find out what the
message is that I left with his secretary. You can talk to him
then, if you can still talk."
"You can't do it," she screamed, her voice shrill with fear.
"Shut up," the man called Lefty shouted at her and slapped her
hard across the face, knocking her onto her back. As her hand
instinctively reached for the burning pain on her face, her bright
red robe slipped from one shoulder, exposing the round firmness of
her trembling breast as it fell free into the open air. She could
see the man called Mac staring at the quivering orb, his eyes glued
to the dark round circle that covered the rounded end of her
succulent white breast.
"Nice," the third man, Mac, said and bent over to touch her.
"Any broad that's built like you has got to be a good screw."
Pamela grabbed at his hand and tried to push it away, but he
slapped her roughly on the other side of her face and she fell back
onto the bed again, sobbing hysterically. She was going to become
a rape victim of these depraved animals and there seemed to be no
escape. If she had only listened to Jeff, this wouldn't have
happened. She could forgive him for anything, if he would only
come home.
Mac's large hand suddenly pulled her toward him and with one
motion pulled her robe completely off of her sleek young body. She
tried to scramble to the other side of the bed, but the men just
laughed at her. She was totally naked in front of strange obscene
men who had her completely at their mercy.
"Scared," Wade said. "You're scared now, but by the time I
finish with you, you'll be begging for more. So knock off the act.
We all know you're feeling it!"
Lefty kneeled on the bed beside her and ran his eyes over her
firm round breasts, tracing an imaginary path over her belly to the
soft silken hairs that covered her trembling pussy. She was
completely under their control, and the control of the Spanish Fly.
She was beginning to feel the effects of the drug, and would be
screaming for them to fuck her before the next five minutes had
passed. Lefty's hand pushed at the growing bulge in his trousers
and he waited for the command to begin, so he could free his
swelling penis from its prison.
Pamela wanted to escape, but there was no way. Somehow,
through the haze, she could see the men who stood over her, one of
them the leader of a syndicate, the other two, hired thugs. They
were all intent on one thing, rape! They were going to spread her
legs and sink their swollen pricks deep into the hot confines of
her pussy and there was nothing she could do to resist.
"Ready, boss?" Lefty asked Wade.
"Yeah," he said. "But first, I wanna make sure the fly's
worked. And then, after I've checked out that hot little pussy,
I'm gonna let you boys do all the work, and I'll just watch."
"Hey, groovy, boss. Are ya gonna do it now?"
"Just watch," Wade said and leaned over the fear-quaking body
of the young helpless wife that lay below. "She'll be so hot that
even you guys won't be able to handle her."
Pamela sobbed uncontrollably as Wade reached out to touch her.
She held her thighs tightly together in a futile gesture of
resistance, but felt too weak to fight. Somehow, the tingling had
returned to her full rounded breasts, and was working its way down
to her loins as the Spanish Fly continued to gain control of her
trembling body. She was totally ashamed as she closed her eyes to
the lust-incited gazes of the three men who were about to rape her.
Wade's breath was hot and close and she knew that he was going to
do something to her that no man had ever tried. He was evil and as
depraved as Jeff had claimed he was, but it was too late to find
that out. Within minutes she would be ravaged and spoiled forever
by these maniacs.
"Spread 'em," Wade commanded and lightly slapped one knee.
"I'm gonna see just how hot you can get."
Trembling with fear, she refused to spread her legs, holding
them tightly together with every last ounce of her strength, but
Wade's strong hands suddenly sunk deep into the supple flesh of her
soft smooth thighs, forcing her to obey.
"Please, don't," she pleaded, but her fear relaxed the firm
muscles of her long legs and let them be pushed apart.
"That's better. Now let's see if you're warming up yet," Wade
said and lifted her knees as she whimpered for him to stop. The
three men uttered a simultaneous sigh as they looked at the soft
silken pubic hairs, wet with the hot juices that were flowing from
the quivering opening of her vulnerable pussy.
Pamela moaned and turned her head to the side as she felt
Wade's fingers run along the soft inside of her thigh to the moist
pink lips of her trembling cunt. Eagerly they toyed with the loose
flesh, slipping along the wet crevice until they found the tiny bud
of her clitoris. Then, with ease, the educated fingers pulled at
the tiny red bud, massaging it back and forth until it filled with
blood and grew erect, straining at its bonds of soft, pink flesh.
"Wow," Lefty sighed while he massaged his swollen cock.
"Listen to her moan. Man, that fly'll turn on any frigid little
bitch."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Wade told him. "Wait'll she
really gets turned on and if we don't fuck her, you'll see her
tryin' to fuck herself."
Just relax, and they won't hurt you, Pamela told herself. If
she could just be calm, then they would hurry and get it over with.
She tried to resist the finger without moving, but the tantalizing
touch had salaciously lit the long dormant fires in her loins, and
she felt the same rising desire that she had given herself in the
bathroom. But No! She had to resist, she just had to!
But ... the cruel, relentlessly teasing fingers were becoming
too much for her. She tried to hold her breath as she felt them
slither across the trembling opening of her hair-lined cunt teasing
the throbbing entrance between her legs momentarily, then moving
again to the pulsating bud of her swollen clitoris. She had never
felt anyone's hands, allowed anyone's hands, to do what Wade was
doing, but she had to fight it. She turned her head and exhaled
heavily through her full red lips, trying to ease the growing
pressure that was building in her loins.
"Yeah, baby," Wade grinned at her. "Blow it out. Get your
mouth ready and wet for old Lefty there."
Lefty and Mac sat on the bed, watching first the obscene
fingers, then the involuntarily contorted face of Jeff Lee's
frightened young wife. Their necks were straining from their
shoulders, stretching with anguish while they waited their turn
with her firm, smooth flesh. Their boss would heat her up until
the Spanish Fly would turn her into a raving nymphomaniac, then
they would mount her and fuck her until they drained all their
excitedly building sperm into her young, innocent body.
His eyes red with lust, Wade slid his fingers back to the
quivering opening of her aching cunt. Suddenly and easily they
slid into the hot wet opening and Pamela moaned deep from her belly
as the fingers rotated around the smooth moist walls of her burning
pussy. She clenched the soft white moons of her buttocks together
in an effort to resist, but as she did, the tiny elastic ring of
her anus twitched involuntarily, sending ripples of electricity
through her abdomen. No matter how hard she tried, she could not
blot out the growing fires that were building deep in her trembling
cunt. Her entire body was flushed bright red, and the tiny pointed
nipples that adorned her breasts were jutting straight into the
air.
"Goddamn," Wade murmured, "She's gonna burn my fingers up with
that hot little cunt. Christ, you guys are gonna get the fucking
of your lives."
"Yeah, and her old man said she was no good," Mac whispered
obscenely. "Man will he find out different from us."
"It won't be long," Wade whispered while he rubbed his swollen
cock with his free hand.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Pamela whimpered as Wade suddenly thrust two
more fingers into her tight elastic pussy. She was losing her
battle, and knew it, though she still clenched her buttocks
together in a frantic effort to resist.
But the probing fingers had become too much for her. As she
clenched her anus again and again, the shocks of sex-maddened
desire shot through her stomach and she began clasping her buttocks
harder, increasing the passion that was building inside her
yearning pussy. She had felt those shocks only once, the one time
she masturbated. But now, a man was doing it for her, thrilling
every inch of her flesh as his finger rubbed and rotated deep
between the hair-lined lips of her trembling pussy. She wanted the
fingers to go deeper, just like Carmen had wanted Jeff's cock to
drive deeper into her ravaged cunt. Yes, oh, yes, deeper ...
deeper ...
"Wow!" Lefty exclaimed.
"Yeah," Mac added. "She's squirmin' like a nympho. God, I
can't wait to get my cock stuck in that wild little snatch. I'll
fuck her until she won't moan no more!"
Pamela could barely hear them through her drug-hazed mind.
She was moaning incoherently unable to face the reality of the
passion that raged inside of her aching cunt. It felt so good when
she had fingerfucked herself, but now ... now it was like ecstasy
having a man run his fingers in and out of her trembling pussy. It
was true! She couldn't resist any longer ... she wanted to be
fucked! She was ashamed and degraded, but she had to be fucked.
"Oooohhhhh!" she moaned, but her voice was drowned out by the
ringing telephone.
Quickly Wade jerked his fingers from her throbbing pussy and
reached for the phone, ignoring her plea for him to continue. He
watched as Mac thrust his fingers inside her cunt, then picked up
the phone.
"Yeah," he whispered into the receiver, wanting Pamela's
pleadings to be heard through the phone.
"Who the hell's this?" Jeff demanded.
"Aaaahhhhhhhh, please," Pamela groaned loud enough to be
overheard by her husband.
"This is Wade Jackson," the gangster announced as if he were
proud of his infamous name. "We came over to keep your sweet
little wife company while the big newspaper man's out snooping
where he shouldn't be."
"What are you doing to her," Jeff shouted into the other end
of the line.
"Right now," Wade replied matter-of-factly, "One of my men has
his fingers in your wife's cunt and is finger fucking her silly."
"You bastard ..." Jeff started, but was interrupted by his
wife's screaming for more.
"Yeah, Mr. Editor, your wife is having a ball," Wade said,
then changed his tone. "And we're having a ball, too. So I'll
tell you what newspaperman. You get your ass over here right away
and see for yourself. And don't call the fuzz or your hot little
wife'll be dead before they can get in the door."
Wade held the receiver close to Pamela's head and Jeff called
to her through the phone.
"Oh, oh, oh, Jeff," she cried back to him. "Please, Jeff,
help me!"
With that, Wade slammed the receiver onto the telephone. He
looked at the lust-maddened girl with an obscene grin then turned
his attention to his two henchmen.
"O.K., boys, fuck her silly."
* * *
Jeff Lee raced through freeway traffic to get to his home.
Christ, he thought, what are they doing to her. His wife,
sensitive and sheltered, was being raped by three thugs who don't
have the right to even shine her shoes. Yet they were her captors
and tormentors.
As he neared his home, Jeff put his hand under his coat and
felt the cold steel of the pistol he had stuffed in his belt. He
knew that if he called the police Wade would carry out his threat
and murder his wife. The only way was to try and overpower them
with the gun. That way, at least he had done something to save her
from almost certain death.
Turning a corner, Jeff saw the white brick front of his home
and took a deep breath. Well, here goes nothing, he thought. It
had better work.
Once out of the car, Jeff sneaked around the side of the house
to look in the bedroom window, but could only hear his wife's
continuous moans of pleasure. God, I've got to stop them, he
thought frantically, and ran to the back door, letting himself in
with the key.
As quietly as possible he crept across the house, his gun
drawn. He finally stopped at the bedroom door and listened again
to the animal-like grunts of his wife. Then, with all his might,
he kicked the bedroom door open, ready to start shooting at
anything that moved.
But as the door banged open, Jeff froze.
There on the bed in front of him Mac was mounted on Pamela
like a dog and driving his massive throbbing cock again and again
into her clasping pussy. Horrified, Jeff watched his wife ramming
her buttocks against the big man's hairy pelvis in a sex-crazed
effort to suck his thrusting cock deeper into her burning pussy.
The shock of the sight, as Wade had anticipated, was too much
for Jeff, and he dropped the gun easily when Lefty hit him with a
Judo chop from behind. He slumped to the floor in an unconscious
heap, dragging with him the memory of his wife bumping back against
Mac like a bitch in heat.
"Put this under his tongue," Wade ordered as he handed lefty a
small green pill. "It's the same stuff we gave his wife. When he
comes to, he'll wanna join the gangbang right along with the rest
of us."
A few minutes later Jeff awoke to the shrill screams of orgasm
as his wife came, her body jerking convulsively as she reached her
climax. His vision was blurred, but he was able to see her
collapse on the bed, panting with sexual exhaustion.
"Too bad you missed the beginning," Wade said looking
sardonically at Jeff. "But it ought to get better."
"You bastard," Jeff yelled and started to lunge forward, but
the blow and the drug he had been given had taken their toll, and
he fell back into a chair.
"Don't be upset," Wade told him. "You'll get to like our
little party pretty soon. Why don't you just relax and watch for a
while."
Pamela had recognized Jeff's voice and turned her head to see
her husband staring at her in shock. Oh God, she thought. He saw
it all. He thinks I'm nothing but a horrible prostitute, just like
the rest of Wade's women. She started sobbing, her naked body
shaking with shame and humiliation. Her husband had seen her
helpless naked body writhing and twisting under another man and her
own lips moaning out their pleasure at his cruel ravishment. What
could she do ... ? What could she do ... her loins were still
aflame ... what was wrong ... ? What was wrong ... ?
And even then, the thought of her own husband watching her
masochistically began to excite the young wife, and she could feel
the gut-searing fires returning to the hot confines of her ravaged
pussy where Mac's sperm still burned in a hot white pool. Pamela
could hardly think because of the Spanish Fly. The moment her
thoughts had turned to sex, the tingling had begun to ripple
through her body again. She turned her face into the pillow and
began helplessly rubbing her thighs together, forcing the still-
quivering lips of her hair-lined pussy to rub salaciously against
her clitoris. Slowly, hypnotically, she raised to her knees so
that her buttocks waved lasciviously in the air and her crotch lay
exposed to the sight of the four leering men and began to undulate
her hips in an obscene gesture of beckoning, almost begging any of
them to climb onto the bed and thrust his cock into her clasping
pussy. Fuck me, it seemed to say. Climb onto the bed and fuck me
until I die. Low, soft moans of unmistakable desires crooned from
her open lips. Her face was contorted grotesquely as though she
were a lust-maddened maniac.
Jeff watched helplessly as Lefty quickly climbed onto the bed,
throwing his clothes onto the floor. The hood opened his hand and
ran it along the pink slit of her lust-maddened crotch until a
finger dug into the straining oval hole that flowed with her juices
of unrestrained desire. Then, suddenly, he withdrew the finger and
ran it quickly along the smoothly open crevice between her
buttocks, over her tiny, puckered anus, then back again, until it
poised at the tight little elastic hole that stared back into
Jeff's bewildered and humiliated face. Once, twice, the finger
probed at the tiny, momentarily resisting hole, then quickly wormed
its way into her clasping rectum up to the first knuckle.
Pamela panted in deep heaving gasps as she tried to relax her
violated anus and allow the finger to go further. It hurt, but not
as much as she had expected. The girl wanted to feel the whole
finger inside her warm rectum, and at the same time wanted to be
filled with the throbbing rigid cock that had rammed into her
aching cunt a few minutes before. Oh God! she thought through her
lust-driven mind, Jeff was there, watching, but it didn't matter.
He had seen her fucked already, and she couldn't be more degraded.
Besides she had to be fucked again! One climax had not been
enough. She needed more!
Jeff watched in horrified disbelief as Lefty skewered his wife
with his finger. By now the whole finger was thrust into her
rectum and he could see Lefty rotating it in small circles as
Pamela moaned in short gasps. As she turned her head back and
forth in sexual ecstasy he could see her mouth open wide and
begging Lefty to fuck her.
"Take her in the ass," Wade hissed and Lefty turned around,
his eyes glazed with an obscene lust-incited stare.
"Yeah, boss," he chuckled, hoarsely, "I'll stretch her little
asshole so wide we can all get in."
Not there, Pamela suddenly panicked. No, my God, he'd split
me open. Suddenly she began to panic. She wanted to be fucked,
but not like that, not back them Jeff was watching and would never
understand, even though he knew she had been drugged. She had
become an animal, and knew it, but there were limits to everything.
She had been degraded and raped already, but not that, not in the
depths of her rectum.
"Stop it!" Jeff shouted and tried to get up, but the dizziness
hit him again.
"Whatsa matter, baby," Lefty asked Pamela, completely ignoring
her husband. "Hasn't your old man ever fucked you in the ass?"
"Oh, God no." she answered. "No one ever has. Please ..."
"Hey," he sneered. "Virgin territory. I'm gonna like that."
Pamela screwed up her face in shame. She could see Jeff
behind her, his eyes glazed with hatred. Here she was at the hands
of sex maniacs and nothing could be done to stop them. She
couldn't stop the strange, rippling shocks of desire that passed
through her loins any more than she could stop Lefty from doing
what he wanted.
"You just take it easy, baby," Lefty told her. "It'll hurt
for a while, but before you know it, you'll be screaming for more,
just like you did to Mac's pussy fucking."
She moaned in protest to his words, praying silently that he
would stop. But there was nothing she could do to make his worming
finger stop violating her tight virginal anus. The Spanish Fly had
snapped something in her body and awakened passions that she had
not thought existed. But now she was about to pay for those
passions. In front of her husband the young wife would have to
submit to any cruel sexual aberration that they demanded from her,
and what was worse was that she knew she would do it, and in spite
of her revulsion and shame, would enjoy it.
The sex drug had become her master and she would obey, even
though her mind didn't want her to continue, she had become victim
of her own body and its desires. No matter how she tried to
resist, no matter how hard she prayed, nothing could stop the
rising tide of obscene desire that ran through her body, spurred on
by the rotating finger that wormed salaciously around deep in her
damp dark rectum. There was no turning back, the time had come ...
Pamela sighed with a sudden gasp of relief as she felt the
finger suddenly pull out of her quivering anus. Maybe he'll stop,
she thought, but as she looked back at him she knew differently.
Lefty's face was contorted with lust. He knelt behind her for a
moment stroking his rigid throbbing cock and murmuring something to
it like it was a pet. Then she saw Mac out of the corner of her
eyes.
"Well, now, bitch, it looks like Lefty's gonna get a better
fuckin' than I did. I may just try again."
Pamela tried to blot out his words, but they wouldn't go away.
She could recall the terrible things he had said to her before,
swearing with every filthy word that he knew, degrading her with
his dirty mouth. And now she could hear the same again, this time
with Wade chuckling to himself as the hood swore at her.
But now a new danger threatened her. As Mac climbed onto the
bed, Lefty suddenly grabbed her legs and jerking them back
spreading her out flat on her stomach. Before she could move to
protest, Mac had grabbed her hands and pinioned her arms. She
groaned as she felt Lefty pressing the hot rubbery head of his
pulsating cock tightly against the clenching muscle of her tiny
elastic anus. She tried to wriggle free, clasping the soft round
cheeks of her buttocks together, but it only incited him further
and the sex-crazed hoodlum grabbed both cheeks and started kneading
them in his large hands as his massive throbbing prick pushed at
her quivering anus.
"Lift," Lefty commanded while he pulled her hips higher. She
tried to squirm away, but the drug that ravaged her body told her
to do what he said, and reluctantly her hips rose to meet his rigid
cock.
Jeff watched her obey, lifting her hips while her face lay
buried in the pillow. They were in his house, in his bed, and were
fucking his wife. Nothing seemed real through the haze that the
drug was laying slowly over his tormented mind. Pamela was
undergoing the most cruel treatment ever imagined, yet she was
enjoying it, or at least partly enjoying it. But to Jeff, she
looked like a different woman. She had become sexual, sensuous ...
a far cry from the frigid wife he had left at home earlier in the
day. She had become a woman, a woman that would be wild to have in
bed ... wilder even than the lust-oriented Carmen.
Pamela stared at Jeff as he watched her. She didn't recognize
the expression on his face, and thought perhaps he had gone crazy,
and it was all her fault for not listening to him. If only she
hadn't let Wade in the house, she would never have been induced to
take the drug. But it was too late to look back now. She was
about to be sodomized by the horrible gangster kneeling behind her
naked buttocks.
Jeff barely heard Wade's chuckling as he watched the hood
begin to tease at his wife's tender anus. Too bad I had never
tried it there, he thought, and suddenly recoiled in disgust,
ashamed that he had had such a degrading thought. He could see the
gangster's hands kneading the soft pliant flesh of her buttocks,
toying with the rubbery red ring trying to loosen it further and
stretch it wide for the greater entry that was to follow.
"Oh God, please don't do it to me there!" she whimpered, but
it was too late to fight. The drug had driven her body to the
point of excruciating pain, needing a man's thick hard cock to turn
it to pleasure. She could hear Wade laughing and telling his men
... "You'll blow your fuckin' mind when you screw her in the ass
... hell look at her, she's already like a wildcat. Wait'll ya get
inside that tight little hole. It'll squeeze you to death."
"Inside ... inside ..." Lefty panted while he spread the
quivering ring with his thumbs and probed the oval red hole with
the pulsating head of his huge throbbing cock.
"Man, what a smooth hairless little hole," he panted teasingly
over at Jeff. "It'll slide in nice and easy."
Wade knew that he would have his revenge now. After the
reporter would see his wife raped in the ass he'd never bother the
syndicate again. Wade's hand had opened the fly of his pants and
pulled his massive prick into the free air where he stroked it,
milking the white hot fluids from the tip.
"Come on, Man, hurry up," Mac hissed. He could feel his balls
tightening under the pressure of his erection and he wanted to
release them, and fill the girl with his sperm.
Jeff watched as his wife thrashed her head from side to side.
He thought she was fighting, but in reality she had given up the
fight. Instead she wanted Lefty to skewer her with his massive hot
prick and sink the rigid shaft deep into her rubbery rectum and
split her open. She wanted him to hurt her and punish her for what
she had become. She wanted to be fucked and hurt at the same time.
She had to be punished for her lewd, uncontrolled enjoyment of the
salacious adultery she was committing right before her helpless
husband's eyes.
But Lefty wanted her to plead with him to fuck her: "Beg for
it, bitch," he ordered. "Tell me to fuck you in the ass!"
Oh God, Pamela moaned to herself. What else could they
possibly do. Why do I have to beg? They know! They know I want
it!
"Tell me!" he demanded.
Jeff listened as his wife moaned in agony, then began to plead
with her attacker. "Please, yes, but in the front, Please!"
"I didn't hear ya, sweetheart. What did ya say?" he egged her
on, wanting her to use the words that he used, to humiliate her
more than she had imagined.
"I'll do anything," Jeff heard his wife say. "Just fuck my
cunt, please, FUCK MY CUNT!"
"Right idea, baby, but the wrong hole."
Jeff watched unbelieving as the man brutally tormented his
wife with his crude demands. Pamela protested, but not hard
enough. Yes, she did want him to give it to her back there, but
she couldn't beg him, no, she just couldn't.
"Stick me in that hot little hole of yours," Lefty ordered.
Jeff saw his wife hesitate, not sure what to do. Then she
slowly moved her hand around her buttocks and grasped the thick
throbbing head of his massive cock and tried to put it at the hair-
lined entrance to her trembling pussy.
"The other hole!" Lefty shouted and quickly she obeyed, moving
the pulsating prick to the clasping entrance to her rectum. Why
wouldn't he do it to her the other way. She had even begged him to
fuck her in the cunt, but he wouldn't. Now she was afraid that he
would kill her with his massive weapon. She wanted to be punished,
yet she wanted to be fucked first. The pain would be too much for
her and she might pass out before her aching cunt could be
fulfilled.
Jeff looked on in horror as Lefty began to press his pulsing
cock hard against the puckered flesh of her anus, slowly building a
rhythm. Jeff could not understand why he no longer wanted to get
up and tear the man off of his wife. He had no idea that he had
been drugged and was frightened when he discovered that the first
ripples of desire were twitching through his own loins.
This was his own wife he was watching!
It was his wife who was about to be sodomized, yet he could
still feel distant rumblings of desire growing in his balls. His
eyes wide, he winced as he saw the huge head of lefty's throbbing
cock suddenly slip into his wife's rectum with a soft wet muffled
sound.
"Aaagghh!" she cried in agony as the head popped through the
tightly resisting nether ring and filled her ravaged entrance. She
was being punished already, and none of it was her own fault.
Mac leaned over and grabbed her shoulders to keep her from
trying to escape the impaling shaft that had thrust itself partway
into her trembling anus. Spittle drooled from his mouth as he
gleefully watched the girl's terrible agony.
"Aaaagghhhhh!" she cried again. "Please don't! You're going
to tear me apart!"
Her tears and sobbings were not only for the torture she was
going through, but also from the pictures of light that flashed
through her mind ... pictures of childhood and innocence. All
those things were gone forever. She had been debauched and
degraded too much to ever turn back. She might as well be dead.
Then suddenly Jeff heard her scream as Lefty drove his entire
throbbing cock deep into the dark wet confines of her rectum. Her
body was racked with pain and she braced herself, waiting for his
next lunge. But instead he waited for a moment, holding himself
still. He rolled his head in a large circle, trying not to cum
until he was ready. His balls were ready to explode, but he wanted
to make her scream for more. He could feel the damp rubbery walls
of her rectum slowly pulsing against the tender throbbing skin of
his impaling cock. He wanted to drive deeper, but knew he couldn't
when he looked down to see the hilt of his massive prick buried in
the pink, hairless flesh of her anus. Maybe now ... and he slowly
pulled the pulsing cock halfway out, then started to sink it back
into her ravaged anus ...
"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as the giant prick began to move in
and out picking up speed. Jeff's hand was rubbing at his crotch as
he glared at his wife while she slowly began to rock back and forth
against the pulsating cock that was sodomizing her like a common
whore. He knew that she had found a way to relax her tender
forever-stretched rectum and was beginning to enjoy the lewd
fucking she was getting. His breath came harder with each stroke
that she made as he watched the animalistic pair on the bed,
fucking like two dogs in heat.
Lefty was excited to the limits of his lust-maddened mind. He
held her buttocks with both hands and watched his huge throbbing
cock slide in and out of her ravaged anus as she slapped her
buttocks against his pelvis, driving it as hard and as deep as she
could into the hot damp passageway.
Jeff looked to see her panting now, her full red lips
moistened by her hungry tongue. She was aware of nothing in the
world but the massive prick that ground into her backside time and
time again. She was afraid that she might loose the rigid prick
and fought to start each new stroke before the last one had ended.
"Wow, man," Mac whispered. "She fucks like a goddamned mink."
Wade looked over at his henchman and then at Jeff. He was
getting his triumph over the great righteous reporter, he thought
as he watched Jeff stroking his swollen prick in rhythm with the
couple fucking on the bed.
"Mac," he said, "Stick it in her mouth. I'll bet she'll
gobble you up."
Jeff watched painfully as Mac got to his knees and placed his
twitching cock in front of Pamela's red wet mouth. Mine, Jeff
thought as the drug burned at his balls. She should suck mine, not
his Tears formed in his eyes as his wife suddenly open her mouth
and eagerly enveloped the throbbing prick with her lips, sucking it
quickly into her throat until she could feel it prodding against
the soft, moist flesh of her working tonsils. She sucked
voraciously at the leading fluids that had flowed from the open
slit, then swallowed and began to suck some more. It tasted sweet,
almost as sweet as the sugar Wade has given her.
Grasping at her buttocks Lefty nearly screamed as he increased
his thrusting to a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls nearly
exploding as he panted and fucked harder.
Jeff panted as he watched his wife's head rolling in circles,
then bobbing up and down as she sucked at Mac's massive pulsating
cock. Jeff wanted her to suck him, but there was nothing he could
do ... he watched as she slowed down and began to nibbled at the
rubbery hot head, first with her lips, then with her teeth as a
lewd obscene grin spread across her lust-maddened face. Eagerly
she lapped at the underside with her tongue, rolling droplets of
saliva around the purplish rim of his glans. Her body buffeted the
ramming cock in her backside automatically while she focused her
whole attention on the twitching prick in her mouth. She sucked
voraciously like a baby at a breast. There was no other world but
this one: a world inhabited by two massive driving cocks that were
driving at both ends, one in her tormented anus and the other in
her wet hungry mouth. She knew that there would be little time
left until they both came, filling her throat and her rectum with
their hot burning juices. She was no longer a sweet young wife,
her husband no longer existed. Nothing existed but the wildly
burning flames of lust searing through her bucking body. Nothing
mattered but the two huge buffeting cocks that would give her the
release and excruciating pleasure that she had to have.
Suddenly she could no longer concentrate on just the one!
While she sucked at Mac's throbbing prick she had excited her
buttocks to new passion-driven heights and she found herself
slamming her backside as hard as she could into Lefty's driving
pelvis. There was no time left as she felt Mac's massive cock
begin to twitch uncontrollably. She sucked harder, drawing the
entire rock hard shaft into her throat, almost choking herself, but
managing to stifle her panic, and continue sucking. As she moaned
at the lascivious pleasure in her mouth, she heard Mac groan and
push his body forward until his cock was buried to the hilt in her
hungry, desperately sucking throat. "Now," he hissed through his
clenched teeth. "I'm cummingg now!!!"
Before she could pull away she felt jets of burning sperm
shoot into her mouth like a roaring volcano spitting out lava. Her
mouth was completely filled and she swallowed hard, trying not to
choke on the burning juices. It was hot, but sweet, and she sucked
harder trying to get every ounce of the torrent into her throat.
Her husband looked on in pain as she sucked at the deflating cock,
licking the sperm from her chin as the massive organ suddenly lost
its rigidity and deflated to almost normal size in a matter of
seconds. Jeff was nearly in a rage. It was his cock that she
should suck, no one else's but his.
As soon as the prick debated in her mouth she became aware of
the terrific pummeling that was going on behind her. She groaned
and hissed, praying for orgasm as she slammed her quivering
buttocks against the frantic driving cock that was stretching the
tender flesh of her anus wider and wider with each thrust. Deep in
her belly she could feel the rumblings of orgasm as she slammed
into him again and again. She had never imaged that fucking could
be so animal and so consuming. She was completely free of the
world, owing nothing except to the massive prick that was driving
her to the breaking point. It was only moments away and she could
feel the massive prick in her ravaged wet rectum twitching
spastically as he neared his climax.
Now, now, now, she begged silently as her body began to
convulse like one huge wave about to crash on a rocky shore ... oh,
oh, yes ... she was cumming ... nowwwww!" And it came, crashing
through her entire body, freeing her from the torment she had known
for thirty years. She was a woman at last!
Dazed and dominated by her climax and the aphrodisiac that
still coursed through her system, she lay completely still on the
sweat soaked sheets. She felt Lefty pull his deflated cock from
her aching rectum with a slight plop as the aching hole closed
tight again and wiggled her buttocks as the warm, white cum seeped
from her anus and flowed down the crevice between the two white
resilient cheeks still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.
"What's the matter, Editor?" Wade's voice broke through the
sudden silence in the room. "Does your little wife lying there
turn you on?"
Jeff glared at Jackson through his tear-filled eyes. He was
too choked with desire to speak, and could only stare at the
gangster as he hovered over him.
"You couldn't even get up to help her could you?" Jackson
sneered at him. "Well, get up now, you punk, and screw her.
That's what you want, isn't it ... to screw your own wife!"
Numbly Jeff managed to pull himself out of the chair. The
pill that Wade had put under his tongue had dulled all his senses,
all but his instinct for sex. Right now his wife lay on the bed,
her quivering buttocks in plain view, beckoning him to join her.
He didn't even try to fight as Lefty and Mac quickly helped him out
of his clothes and pushed him toward the bed. He saw Pamela look
up at him and show a sign of recognition. But he didn't care. He
had to have her and fuck her now. He would make her give him
everything that she had given the others. He didn't care what had
happened before. There was only now!
As Jeff climbed onto the bed she rolled over to face him.
This was her husband, but more than that, this was another man.
She opened her arms and waited for him to slide his throbbing cock
into her trembling pussy and fill the damp dark hole with all of
his rock hard flesh.
Crazed with lust he spread her legs further with his strong
hands and held them off the bed so that her hair-covered, sperm-
drenched pussy panted directly upward. Without any further
hesitation he sunk the jerking head of his swollen cock past the
open wet lips of her cunt and shoved the whole length of his cock
deep into the burning opening.
"Ooooohhhhh, Jeff!" she moaned as she felt the massive
throbbing cock sink deep into her belly.
They were both unaware of the three men in the room as they
began to drive their pelvis's against each other, smashing the dark
pubic hairs in a wet tangled mass. Pamela pulled him closer and
crushed her lips against his, sucking at his eager wet tongue.
Methodically she clasped the aching muscles of her cuntal walls
around his driving cock, massaging it like a hand. She felt his
hands grasp the smooth white orbs of her buttocks and dig into the
pliant flesh, kneading it like hot dough. She lifted her hips and
began rotating them in slow salacious circles as she continued to
hump her fiery crotch against the hairy base of his rigid twitching
cock. She could feel his swollen balls slamming against her tender
aching anus, making her wince and contract the stretched sphincter
in greedy sexual response.
Neither of them heard Wade Jackson as he and his henchmen
left. He shouted a warning to Jeff, a warning to lay off the
syndicate, but the sex-crazed editor could hear nothing. His balls
were about to explode as he rammed his throbbing cock deep into his
wife ... his wife at last. Now for the first time she was a real
woman, bred in passion and fury and fucking like she was born to
do. He wanted her uninhibited fucking to go on forever ... and
they would.
Time and time again during the night they had made love in a
wild frenzy until they had both collapsed at dawn ... husband and
wife at last.
Chapter 10
Jeff drove toward the county hospital along the freeway. He
tried to concentrate on Sammy and Paula and their plight.
Sammy had called an hour before. He had told Jeff that he had
found Paula at her apartment the afternoon before. The hoods had
gotten to her and used the dog. Jeff remembered that Sammy's voice
had remained calm as he spoke. Paula would be alright, but she had
suffered a terrible shock. The sedative had worn off and she was
ready to talk, ready to tell Jeff everything she knew about Wade
Jackson and his entire operation. With her testimony and Sammy's,
Jeff would have Wade in jail in a matter of days.
But Jeff couldn't concentrate on the couple he was to meet at
the hospital. He couldn't help thinking about his wife, or rather
his new wife, he thought.
Jeff remembered from the moment he had heard her screaming
over the phone that even her voice was different, more
knowledgeable, and at last, more humble. Perhaps he should have
taken the police with him, he thought as he drove. How goddamned
stupid to have thought he could have taken care of Wade by himself.
As soon as he had gotten into the apartment they had grabbed him
like he was a child and forced him to watch his wife's rape.
It wasn't that so much, though. He knew she had been drugged,
though he hadn't realized it at the time. It was after he left
that he realized his wife was a new woman, a woman like Carmen,
alive and sexually potent beyond his wildest expectations.
They had made love for hours, and then, as soon as they woke
up this morning they had done it again, though Pam was the
aggressor, waking him and massaging his penis to erection. He
thought of the sex-crazed look of ecstatic pleasure he had seen in
her face as she straddled his huge cock, rubbing her soft, still
sperm-covered pussy back and forth over his pubic hair while the
massive organ tore mercilessly at her insides. She had climaxed
twice before he did, her body racked with passion as she jerked
spasmodically through the pains of orgasm.
Wow, Jeff thought as he remembered. He ought to stop thinking
about it because he could feel his penis already growing to
erection by just remembering how his wife acted in bed. He had an
appointment to keep, and if he kept thinking about Pam, he might
turn around and forget about Wade Jackson.
Jeff Lee had changed, too, in the last twenty hours. He knew
that his wife's frigidity had been partly his fault, and not just
hers and her mother's. Jeff had always allowed Pamela to stay on
her pedestal; above the meager humanities that inhabited the world.
But after seeing her raped, drugged by an aphrodisiac, he was able
to talk to her. Now he could say words like cock, or pussy, or
even fuck, to her.
Inhibited, he thought, I was inhibited myself until last
night. Now she's a real woman, suddenly, and I'm a real man, with
real emotions and real feelings.
Jeff couldn't deny that Wade had instigated the change in him
and his wife, but some good must come from everything, he thought.
Wade Jackson was an ugly and dangerous man and should be put away
where he can't do any more harm to anyone. It's terrible, he
thought, as he drove on, that we were not able to communicate until
Pam was raped. Everyone has faults, there's no denying that, but
no married couple should drift so far apart that they aren't able
to take part in each other's lives. I'll just have to show
interest in her society life, and in return, I know that she'll
always listen to what I have to say about my work.
As soon as this is over, he thought, we're taking a vacation.
I owe it to myself and to Pam. Christ, what a bastard I've been,
working all the time, treating her like nothing more than a maid
... and even worse in bed. If I'd been more understanding, none of
this would have happened. But that'll change. She'll see a
different Jeff Lee from now on. I'll be a husband to my wife, and
a lover, he added to himself with a smile.
* * *
"Hello, Sammy," Jeff said as he entered the hospital room.
Sammy sat on the bed next to his girlfriend, holding her hand.
Paula was propped against two pillows on the raised hospital bed,
her hair in curlers. The two of them had been talking about Jeff
just before he arrived. Sammy explained everything that had
happened and assured her that she would be safe from the mob, and
the police.
"You're Paula," Jeff asked, knowing that the question was
unnecessary.
Paula smiled and nodded. So this is the man who's going to
help us, she thought. He looks like an ordinary John ... probably
hasn't ever had a tragedy in his life. She continued looking at
Jeff while he and Sammy talked. He looked like the kind of man who
was happily married with two children, two cars, two banks and
everything that a normal American man should have. How sad, she
thought, that he should get mixed up with us. We're just a couple
of losers and nothing's going to change that.
"... And so I've arranged for a private car to take you to my
beach house where you'll be safe. With luck everything will be
finished in a couple of weeks and you can come back here and start
over."
"I don't think we'll ever come back here, Mr. Lee," Paula
interrupted. "I've seen more corruption here in the last year than
most people see in a lifetime. I've been a prostitute for almost
the whole year. That means going to bed with every kind of pervert
on the face of the earth. I can only take so much, and I think
I've reached my limit."
Sammy took her hand and tried to soothe her. Paula had almost
cried as she spoke, trying to tell Jeff Lee that she was so full of
hate and despair that nothing really mattered any longer.
But Jeff tried to reassure her: "You've got a lot behind you,
Paula," he said. "But you've got a whole life ahead of you. No
matter what happens, you've got Sammy, and believe me, I think he's
one helluva guy.
"Don't you realize that it doesn't matter where you live, or
what you've been before. Your life is too important to give up
because of the horrors that you've seen when you're young. You two
people can really make something of yourselves if you want to.
There are horizons just waiting for you to cross. All you have to
do is take the first step."
Paula sat looking at the greying newspaper editor for a
moment. He's forty, yet he's still got hope for the future, she
thought. And I don't really know what he's been through.
"Yes," she said aloud, "Maybe there is some hope for us. I'm
willing, Sammy, if you are."
"Oh, wow," he exclaimed. "You'd better believe that I'm
ready."
Jeff looked at the couple on the bed and smiled. Jeff Lee is
on the winning side, now he thought. I guess that can make a new
man out of you.
"Well, I guess that makes things a little clearer for you
two," he said. "But I'd better fill you in on the rest. My
campaign to jail Wade Jackson went into effect today. When the
evening edition of the paper comes out, everyone will see it in
print. I'll have to mail you a copy, though, because I want you
out of town before the story hits the streets. Wade'll be in jail
when you come back to town to testify, so please don't worry."
Sammy and Paula grinned at the good news. Maybe they would
get a fresh start after all. They could easily begin by wiping the
slate clean when they testified as state witnesses in court.
"... So," Jeff continued, "Pack your bags and a car will pick
you up at three."
"Jeff," Sammy broke in, his voice suddenly solemn. "I've got
some bad news for you."
The editor said nothing, but waited for the boy to speak.
"The girl you got the information from, Carmen ..." he paused.
"She was found dead in her apartment about an hour ago. One of the
other girls called Paula and told her."
"Carmen," Jeff said reflectively. "How did it happen?"
"She was shot through the head," Paula told him. "The police
don't have any idea who did it, but I do. All you have to do is
tell the police to pick up Carl Pearson and they'll have their
killer."
"I'll do that," Jeff said. "I'll be sure to."
* * *
"Extra! Extra!" Jeff heard a paperboy yelling on the street
corner. "Read all about it! Local millionaire exposed as arch-
criminal! Extra! Extra!"
Well, Jeff thought to himself. The convention's over and the
story's out; now all I have to do is wait.
Jeff didn't have to wait for very long. Twenty minutes later
three members of one of Miami's commissions entered his office.
They were older men, all three in their sixties, and all three were
very wealthy, prominent citizens. Jeff knew why they had come, and
wasn't surprised when the first one said:
"Lee, you've got to retract that story!"
"Go fly a kite," was his reply.
"Now, listen," the second commissioner said, his tone more
soothing. "What you've written about Wade Jackson is probably a
misconception. If you really looked at the facts, you'd find that
you've made a mistake."
"No, gentlemen, I have not made a mistake. I believe that
you've made the mistake. Your first error was to know Wade
Jackson, your second was to play puppet for him, and your third was
to come storming into my office in support of him.
"This town or any other town doesn't need men like Jackson, no
matter what your economics tell you. Wade Jackson is a despicable
man, beneath contempt. His kind of corruption has ruined the lives
of thousands of people in the United States and all over the world.
He runs his empire with blackmail and brute force. But he, and all
the others like him, will pay someday. I plan to see that Wade
Jackson pays now!"
The three men stood silent for a moment, each of them trying
to understand what Jeff had said. Sure, there was truth in what he
said about corruption, they thought, but not about Wade.
"Listen," the second man said. "Wade Jackson pays enough
taxes every year to buy and sell your newspaper. He's helped the
city of Miami build playgrounds, recreation areas, churches, and
too many things to mention here."
"Money's not the answer," Jeff retorted. "People are what
count. Just because Wade helps the community or the local churches
doesn't mean he's a good man. Think of all the people, little
people, who don't have the money. I'll bet you any amount of money
that a thousand Wade Jackson's could not match the charity of heart
that any one of them has.
"No, gentlemen, Wade Jackson is finished in Miami, and
anywhere else. He'll spend the rest of his life behind bars."
The first man spoke: "Wade's going to sue, you know. He'll
rock this newspaper right into the Gulf, by the time he's finished
with you. You'll have to publish a retraction, or face complete
ruin."
"He can do anything he pleases," Jeff said, "... from a jail
cell."
"What do you mean?"
"Wade Jackson is in the maximum security ward at the city
jail."
"Why, hell! He'll be out on bail in an hour," one of them
said.
"The charge is rape. He won't get out."
"Rape! That's incredible ... why that's impossible," the
second man nearly yelled.
"It's not incredible at all. I'm an eyewitness, and I'll see
to it that he spends the rest of his life in jail for that, if
nothing else."
Suddenly the phone rang, breaking the silence that had swept
the room after Jeff's speech.
"Good day, gentlemen," he said and turned his back to answer
the phone.
"Yeah, Charley," Jeff said to his assistant editor. "I hope
you've got those sworn affidavits from Sammy and Paula ready for
today's edition."
"I do, Jeff, but it won't make any difference."
"Why not?"
"Well," Charley said, hesitating. "The D.A.'s office showed
them to Jackson this morning about ten o'clock. When the guard
went back to the cell to take him his dinner he found Jackson dead
on the floor. He cut his wrists."
Jeff paused for a moment.
"O.K., Charley, run an obituary."
Jeff Lee hung up the phone and picked up his pipe. Wade
Jackson had taken the coward's way out, and saved the state a lot
of money. But Jeff's job wouldn't be over for a long time.
Wherever a Wade Jackson lives, thriving off the misfortune of
others, there will always be a job for men like Jeff Lee. Within a
week someone will have taken Wade's Place in Miami and Jeff will
nave to start another investigation ... but not until after his
vacation ... a long one with his new found Pamela ...
The End
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