======== Path: news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!news.fibr.net!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!news.ios.com!ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net!user From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Breeders (2/9) "The Breeders" Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 08:02:09 -0700 Organization: Internet Online Services Lines: 558 Message-ID: <grobert-1904960802100001@ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:146968 roiled. She reached for the glass of water and drank deeply. "Feeling better?" he asked, the cold smile fixed upon his face. Just then the tag end of the rewinding movie reel whirred loose and slap-slapped noisily against the machine. "Mario!" Jason's voice was edged with contempt for the careless boy. "Watch what you're doing. We wouldn't want to damage that film. It might not be quite so easy to get Carolyn to make another that ... interesting." "Ohhhh, how could you?" Her voice was rimmed with hatred. "HOW COULD YOU?" "How could I?" Jason smiled. "It was really quite simple, my dear girl. You are sexually inclined by nature and that enviable virtue combined with your almost unbelievable naivete ... well, suffice to say, it was a simple task to convince your subconscious mind that it was a devoted lover between your legs." "How could you do such an awful thing?" Carolyn whispered hoarsely. "Me?" Jason laughed. "You were the one who did the 'awful' things, Carolyn. You forced my poor assistant into some very degrading situations. I was really quite shocked! Ah, but then, you shall judge for yourself. Mario, would you start the next roll of film please?" Carolyn's eyes widened and she flashed a quick look toward Mario. He grinned back and shook his dark head in mock disapproval. "No!" she shouted. "No, I don't want to see it. I don't know how you made me do those terrible things ... it was a trick of some kind, drugs or something ... but I don't want to see it. Please. PLEASE." "Oh, very well." He nodded toward Mario to stop the projector. The room was suddenly very silent without the hum of the machine. "I must say I'm rather disappointed, though. It was a very ... stimulating ... experience watching that bit of film. You may pack away the reel, Mario. Be sure to lock it up quite safely. Miss Vance may wish to see it again some day." "You're the one who should be locked up! You're crazy!" She stared at the man across the table, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly that the tips were white and bloodless. "You really are crazy!" "Crazy? ... Like a fox, my dear Miss Vance." The icy smile never left his lips. "Those films are my insurance that you won't try to have me locked up. Or anything else unpleasant. Should you try? I would have to tell the authorities that you used your position with Royal Benson Kennels to try to blackmail me. I would have to show them the films I bought from you at exorbitant prices in order to buy your silence. It was worth the $5,000 you demanded to protect the reputation of the Kennels." "They wouldn't believe you. If it was true, you would have turned me over to the police right then and there." "Not necessarily. Jason Benson is known as a quiet sensitive man, an artist in his own right. They would understand why I wouldn't want to go into court to testify against you. It would mean publicity, the front pages of every paper. No, the police would understand why a man of my reputation preferred to pay blackmail." He leaned back in the chair and looked at her over the brandy glass cupped in his hand. "I feel quite confident that you would prefer to assist me with my work and remain silent rather than spend ten years in prison for blackmail ... should it come to that." "You couldn't prove blackmail even if you wanted to." "Oh, but I could." His voice was ripe with confidence. "You see, I withdrew $5,000 in cash from my bank today ... in small bills ... the cashier who has long handled my personal account was quite concerned with my nervousness. Considerate girl, that, she asked me twice if I was sure everything was all right." Carolyn stared in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to her, not to Carolyn Vance from Tyler Corners whose major sins to date consisted of using her mother's credit card for gas and necking after the Saturday night movie. These things only happened to girls off the street, girls who were looking for trouble and were disappointed if they didn't find it. He couldn't really believe she would stay here and work for him, not after this! "And if you are still thinking about going to the police, Carolyn," he spoke softly, "discounting the blackmail charges, do you think they would believe you?" "Of course, they'd believe me," she answered incredulously. "No girl would do a terrible thing like that willingly. You forced me!" "Did I?" The frozen smile took on a new malignancy. "There were no bonds holding you down, no one holding your legs apart for the dog. Do you really think any person seeing the joy on your pretty face would believe you weren't enjoying it? The way you reached up with your wet little pussy and screwed yourself higher onto his big cock, you think anybody's going to believe you didn't want to fuck that dog?" "And afterwards, Carolyn, when you and the dog had both spent yourselves so disgustingly, when the swelling went down and he pulled it out and licked you clean ... when you smiled and spread your legs and patted your hairy little cunt and tried to coax him back again ... do you realty think anyone in their right mind would believe you were forced into it?" Tears welled in her eyes and ran unchecked down her pale cheeks. He was right. She had seen the awful spectacle herself. No one would believe her, never in a thousand years. "And the second reel of film, the one you didn't want to watch," Jason continued, "I'm sure it would convince the police of your unfortunate perversion if the other one didn't. You did some very, very naughty things to my poor Mario while he was tied up and unable to get away from you. Oh, he struggled and tried to turn his innocent body away, but you forced your unnatural appetites upon him. Your unrestrained molesting may have caused permanent psychological damage to the lad! It was shocking, shocking!" Carolyn's face was streaked with tears and she slowly moved her head from side to side. She couldn't have, she couldn't have done anything like that. "I can see that you don't believe me. Perhaps we should run the film after all. Mario?" Jason taunted. "No ... no, please!" "Never mind, Mario," Jason purred reassuringly across the table, "Don't cry, my dear. If you stay and work for me as we agreed, no one need ever know about the films. No one at all." Carolyn hung her head and stared into her tear-dampened lap. This awful man, this canine Jekyll and Hyde had forced her into a corner from which there was no escape. How could she stay here in this house of depravity and work for a man whose mind crawled with evil? How was she to know that he wouldn't try to put her through another night like that? Or worse? perhaps he would force his own attentions on her. Perhaps Mario would get to thinking about the things she was forced to do to him and his unstable mind might snap. She would be in constant danger here ... but the alternative was prison for blackmail. She didn't have a choice. "What ... what do you expect me to do?" she asked with a silent sob in her throat. "Why, just exactly what we discussed when you accepted the position. I merely want you to help me train these fine young animals. That's all, my dear, just train the dogs." "Train them? To do what, Mr. Benson? You never did say. Exactly what kind of training do the dogs require?" Her voice was haughty, cutting. Jason lifted the heavy glass decanter from the center of the table and poured a generous amount in his glass. He lifted the bottle in her direction. Carolyn shook her head. He replaced the stopper in the container, leaned back in the big wooden chair and sipped at the brandy glass cupped in his lean tan hands. He looked at Carolyn from beneath the gently arched brows, half amused, half tolerant. "I thought you would surely have figured that out by now, Carolyn ..." Chapter 4 It was inevitable, Carolyn thought, as she followed Jason Benson through the endless passages of the big house. She knew the time would come when she would be forced to take part in the monstrous perversion but it had seemed so ... so unbelievable that her mind had not really accepted the situation in which she found herself. Not until now! As they walked down the long hall toward the kennels and the "indoctrination tour" as Jason put it, Carolyn's mind finally had to face facts. The door which opened off the Royal Benson Kennel's office was locked. Jason pressed a button beneath the counter top and the door slid open with a soft whir. He gestured for Carolyn to enter, followed her through and pressed another button. The door whirred shut with smooth efficiency. Before them lay a wide carpeted aisleway flanked on both sides by identical cages of chain link wire, joined one to the other like the row upon row of exclusive center city apartments which thrived in downtown New York City. Each cage was exactly like the next, a large chrome feeding dish, an automatic fresh water bowl and a rectangular mattress pad covered in royal blue canvas. Each cage was occupied. Carolyn self-consciously shied from the cages, only to bump into a similar row of dogs on the other side of the aisle. She jumped forward, careful to stand in the exact center of the walkway. Her hands were trembling. "No, no, my dear," Jason explained impatiently. "You don't understand. These are the show dogs, the famous Royal Benson Danes. Animals like these aren't used as toys for the rich, my dear girl, not champion stock like this. It's taken years to perfect such fine dogs." He walked briskly over to the first cage and pointed to the pair of matched frames which hung one above the other on the cage front. "Look," he said enthusiastically, "Look at these pedigrees." Carolyn moved closer at his insistence, and read the small print on the forms. Royal Benson's King Lear, sired by Royal Benson's Black Emperor, sired by Royal Benson's Demon, etc, etc. The ornately printed pedigree went back five generations and each dog bore the kennel title of Benson. She didn't know much about Dane conformation but she knew enough about registered animals to know that an unbroken pedigree line free from inbreeding was an accomplishment to be proud of. "And here," he continued, pointing to the second frame, "here is a list of every win the dog has made." He ran his finger down a long list of titles, pausing here and there to emphasize the enormity of the win. "Best Champion of Show ... Best Grand Champion of Show. And here, Best of Show! Do you realize how difficult it is to win a Best of Show out of hundreds of dogs from all over the country?" He asked Carolyn, not pausing for her answer, "All of my boys end up there sooner or later. What do you think of that?" "It's very ... impressive." Carolyn tried to say something to salve his ego but she was still in the cold numb state of near shock. Jason walked through the cages, calling each great dog by name, scratching them through the wire, praising them in turn as one would children. Carolyn watched him blankly. She had cried away all her tears of horror, the tears of fear ... weeped herself dry of revulsion ... there was almost nothing left. She walked and talked and tried not to think. There was nothing she could do for the present except as she was told. Jason had made that quite clear when he showed her the movie film of ... she shuddered even at the thought ... of that terrible dog at her loins. He had locked her in her room overlooking the dog runs, a prisoner of the damnable electric locks, and let her absorb the awful truth. Once she accepted the inevitable, he had said, it would be easier. And perhaps it was. She wasn't sure. She no longer trembled at every sound in the hall, no longer felt nauseous when a dog barked in the runs beneath her window. Perhaps he was right, now that she had accepted the inevitable, the days had been easier. ... if only she could rid her dreams of the endless hordes of slavering dogs with giant cocks which hung stiff and heavy headed beneath their stomachs, dogs which followed her everywhere sniffling at her wet slit and licking their eager organs. One night in her dreams they would attack her, this army of rutting animals that crowded her dreams, and then she would surely go mad ... if she wasn't already ... Jason gestured toward the door at the end of the blue carpeted walkway. "This way, my dear." Carolyn walked slowly between the cages, taking care not to touch the wire sides. She had succeeded in controlling her revulsion thus far but the touch of one of those great beasts, the hot wet tongue upon her hand might be enough to loose the panic she felt inside. The door beyond Jason bore no handle, no means of access. Carolyn looked about for the electric button but the wall was clean. She looked back at the door. There was a small neat plastic sign. "Hospital Area‹No Admittance." She waited for Jason to open the door, and then she suddenly realized that "no admittance" meant that behind that door ... only a few steps beyond ... were the other dogs. Her eyes grew wide with apprehension and she backed away from the door. "Yes, my dear, the Hospital Area," Jason smiled at her reaction. "Rather appropriate, don't you think? We like to think of our work as a humanitarian service. You might call it physical therapy." Lines creased her lovely face but Jason's suddenly clamped jaw warned them away, and Carolyn forced her features into impersonal repose. She didn't trust her voice to remain steady. She nodded her head curtly, keeping her eyes carefully averted from his. "Never mind," Jason's voice was tolerant. "You will learn. The others did." "The others?" Carolyn's eyes flashed back to his. It had never occurred to her that there had been others before her, others who shared her fate. What had happened to them? What was going to happen to her when she was no longer needed? "But of course!' Jason smiled with amusement. "We have had six, perhaps seven other young ladies. Each of whom, I can assure you, learned to enjoy her work with a consuming passion." "What ... what happened to them?" She was almost afraid to ask. "Did you ... are they ...?" "Of course not!" His voice grew impatient. "We didn't dispose of them. You watch too many B movies! I simply meant that we had to terminate their employment. They became, shall we say, too enamored of their work. They were wearing my poor boys out and overtraining is just as bad as no training at all. Aahhhh, but enough of that. Come in, come in." Jason pressed the palm of his right hand firmly against the metal plate of the door. From somewhere beyond, there came the familiar answering whir and the door slid silently open. Carolyn followed him around the elaborate folding screen which sheltered the room from view when the door was open. Whatever she had expected to see in her mind's eye, it certainly was not the sight which met her eyes. She stared at the huge laboratory area. Everything was neat and sterile in appearance. She could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning unit and the temperature was pleasantly cool. There was a fresh light scent of ozone in the air but, she thought with surprise, no doggy odor although nearly half the area was taken up with wire cages. Each cage was immaculate, as those in the outer room had been, except that these cages bore no pedigrees, no identification other than a small neatly lettered sign with each dog's name she could read those nearest her ‹ Nero, Baron, Casanova, Brute, simple names with no hint of Royal Benson registration. Yet to Carolyn's untrained eyes they were as big and well bred as the show dogs she had just admired. She stared at the dogs, her emotions part horror and part curiosity. Fawn, black, harlequin-spotted animals, alert and obviously in the peak of health. Some were young, gangly legged beasts with huge paws and clumsy manners, the canine adolescents. Some were huge heavy-chested animals; virile, beautiful, terrible ... and each one watched her intently. One immense dog in particular, a fawn-colored giant with a black mask, rose from his haunches when she entered and had paced impatiently back and forth the length of his cage ever since. Carolyn felt uncomfortable in his presence and forced her eyes away from his. She turned her back and left the area of his cage and still she felt those eyes following her. She knelt before a separate cage of young puppies, letting them tumble over one another and chew on her fingers; anything to avert her mind from the pacing dog behind her. Jason watched with interest. The girl seemed to subconsciously sense the King's presence yet he was certain she did not recognize him after a cursory glance at a roomful of dogs. To the novice, one Dane looked pretty much like another. Interesting, Jason thought, interesting. "Well, my dear," Jason called her attention back to the business at hand, "Would you like to see how we train our dogs?" Carolyn looked up apprehensively. Jason smiled, enjoying her discomfort. He crooked a finger at the girl. "Come here." She walked slowly over to a tiled top counter where Jason Benson waited. He waited until she stood beside him, then reached below the counter into a small refrigerator and removed what looked like a baby bottle with a large old fashioned rubber nipple. He held it up for Carolyn to see. "This is one of our training aids ... and a very effective one too, I might add," he said with the odd secretive smile he seemed to wear so frequently when he looked at her. Carolyn looked at the bottle. It seemed like a normal feeding bottle, but she felt he expected her to say something. "Do you bottle feed all your dogs? Don't the mothers feed them?" she asked. "Aaahhhh, but this is more than a bottle, my dear girl. Here, let me show you." Jason unscrewed the rubber cover and held it in his hand, nipple up. "It looks rather like a woman's breast, doesn't it?" "Yes ..." Carolyn wondered what he was leading up to. She had an uncomfortable feeling she'd rather not know. Jason appeared not to notice her discomfort and screwed the rubber top back on the bottle and sat it down. "Now," he continued, "I shall get one of the young pups and show you how we use the bottle in our training program. I'm sure you'll be very interested since it will be part of your job in the future, a very personal part of your job." Jason Benson walked to the nearest puppy cage and took out one of the small animals. He sat it on the counter top, faced it toward her, and inserted the milk-filled nipple between the pup's teeth. Immediately the hungry dog began to pull at it licking and sucking and making small happy animal sounds. Then suddenly the pup let out a whine and began pawing frantically at his mouth. He whimpered pitifully and looked up at them with begging eyes. "What's the matter with him?" Carolyn asked, her voice full of concern for the baby animal. "It won't hurt him." Jason smiled coldly. "He just learned an important lesson. You see, my dear, the nipples on these bottles have a two-fold purpose ‹ they allow a young dog to continue his prolonged abilities to suck, but the nipples also have an unpleasant substance encapsulated between the two sections of rubber. If the pup bites the nipple, his teeth will puncture the first layer of rubber. It's a bitter mouthful! But the bitter lesson is the one first learned. The liquid is composed basically of alum, cayenne and saline solution, nontoxic but thoroughly distasteful as you can see. After several such experiences, our young friend here will learn to suck on the nipple if he wishes the reward ... not bite ... a virtue I'm sure you will appreciate as time goes on." "You don't mean these dogs are trained to ... to ..." "To nurse at a girl's breast?" Jason helped her finish the question. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. It will be part of your job to see that the lesson is learned well!" She felt sick at her stomach. She knew that Jason Benson had more in mind than bottle feeding pups. The puppy on the counter top was squirming frantically, trying to free itself of Jason's hands and the empty bottle. Carolyn had the feeling that the small animal must somehow sense that she would supply its succulence. A shudder ran through her body and she stepped back away from the counter. Jason only smiled and returned the pup to the kennel. "There are other benefits of bottle training," he continued, "which are even more in demand. Would you like to see a demonstration?" Carolyn shook her head from side to side, but Jason ignored the movement and flipped the switch on a small wall intercom. "Mario?" He queried. "In the kitchen, boss," came the soft-voiced reply. "Would you come to the lab, please." "I'm cutting up meat for the dogs," Mario answered, "Could it wait about five minutes?" "I'm sure Miss Vance won't mind waiting," Jason chuckled into the speaker. There was an answering chuckle over the static background. "I'll hurry, boss, wouldn't want to keep the lady waiting ...." Jason flipped the switch down and the static was gone. He turned back to Carolyn. "Mario will be down shortly ... meanwhile, I think it's time we began your basic training." Jason gestured toward her dress. His voice was sterile toned and clinical. "Would you remove your clothing, please?" Carolyn stared at him, not believing what her ears told her was true. Surely this man could not expect her to casually disrobe before him? Jason busied himself at the counter preparing another nipple- capped bottle. He poured in a meager amount of milk, held it up to read the measurement, nodded curtly to himself and screwed on the plastic cap which held the rubber nipple tight to the bottle. Then he turned around. "I thought I told you to take your clothes off." His voice was harsh now, the painted-on smile of amusement gone. His voice cut into her hesitation like a steel saber plunged deep in her belly. "What for?" Carolyn asked weakly, one hand clutching at the dress front. "Never mind what for!" Jason's eyes narrowed. His hand flashed out and cracked across her cheek, hard. "Ohhhh!" "When a dog refuses a command, he is whipped." Jason pulled the long braided whip from the wall and tapped it impatiently into his other hand. "I hope it will not be necessary to demonstrate, Carolyn." "You can't threaten me," she sobbed, rubbing the red marks which scored streaks across her pale face. "Take off your clothes, Carolyn." Jason said coldly. She cowered in the corner, trapped like one of Jason's animals between the counter and the wall while he stood firm on spread legs blocking the only escape. The whip slapped with clock-like regularity against his palm. "Take off your clothes, Carolyn." He repeated as he dropped the loose end of the long whip and laced it across the floor, making it serpentine with soft scraping noises against the waxed gray tile. Suddenly he pulled the handle back and flicked the lash around her ankle with a jerk. She fumbled for her balance and grabbed at the counter for support. The whip coiled around her ankle like a steel snake, leaving a red brand wherever it touched, a brand that ran thick red blood and dripped upon the clean tile. "Next time," he said ominously, loosening the whip lash with a quick motion of his wrist, "next time ... higher." Carolyn bit her lip to keep from crying out. There was a band of fire about her ankle and she could feel the warm drops pulsing out and puddling on the floor. Surely he had known her resistance was only token. She knew, more important he knew, she had admitted defeat the day she had watched those terrible films. Jason took advantage of every opportunity to nurture his cruel appetites. Carolyn refused to cry out with the pain. She refused to allow him that pleasure ... and she began to unbutton the blue dress. Chapter 5 Jason watched her every move. The whip laces hanging loose at his side, his eyes searched each curve as it peeked out of the opening front of her dress. When the last button hung open, she shook her shoulders free of the material. It hung up momentarily on the high thrust of her firm young breasts, then slid down over her hips to the floor. Carolyn bent over and picked it up, looked about and carefully laid it over the back of a near chair. Jason watched the fat twin breasts swing against her body as she moved. Just watching their pendulous action brought twinges to his loins and he rubbed the handle of the whip thoughtfully against his crotch. "Bra and pants too," Jason prompted viciously. Carolyn slid her thumbs beneath the panties elastic band and slowly, hopelessly, slid them down over the curve of her hips. Jason watched the fluffy curls rise over the horizon of the sinking panties. He was tempted ... tempted to strap this girl to the dog stanchion and bury his mouth in the damp furry nest between her legs. She was unhooking the bra now, letting the heavy globes escape. Beautiful! The full firm mounds hung like sweet ripe fruit from her chest ... beautiful. He reached out and cupped his hand, weighing the smooth plump goodness in his grip and rolling the nipple stem between his thumb and forefinger. It hardened noticeably beneath his educated touch. She quivered under his hand and tried to pull away. Her face said she was frightened and Jason liked that. He laid the whip down on the counter and pressed her back up against the wall. One hand squeezed a breast hard, too hard, while the other snaked across the pale ivory skin of her flat stomach and buried itself in the brown curls between her legs. His face was a scarce inch from hers, his mouth hovering over her full lips like a vulture descending on a dying animal. He could feel the dampness of the fur-covered lips below, warm and wet about his other finger, as the tight-clamped little slit pressed back against the wall trying to escape the probing hand, holding itself shut to exclude the unwelcome invader. His lips came closer and brushed lightly across hers, his tongue wetting her fear-dried flesh, softening them in case she willingly decided to ... It was a temptation ... but the thought of this haughty woman cringing beneath his dogs as she watched their dripping jowls and their eager organs jutting out ... no he would wait to taste her sweetness after the dogs had humbled her, after the dogs had humped her pride into the ground and she had begged him for relief. Wasn't this, after all, the best way to handle women? Make them beg, make them know they were less than the animals which used them? Let the dogs know their pleasures, let the dogs wet the bitch's trough. When she had known the depths to which she could be forced, when she could sink no lower in her own mind, then he would allow her the privilege of redeeming herself upon his body. Then ... and only then. * * * He pulled his finger from the damp well of her body, took his tongue from her tight lips and stood back. There was disgust in his eyes. She was only another woman. Why should he give her the pleasure of his attentions? No woman ever cared for him! Jason taunted himself often with the fantasies of his tormented mind. Until he had found 'the dogs' and made them great, no one had known of him! He had been a lonely and much maligned gigolo, the handsome imported husband of a fat, rich and very ugly widow. She had been but the last of many such women who paid for his attention with the insurance premiums of hard-working husbands. Paid-for passion, that's what he offered. The envied escort, a charming companion, a sympathetic ear in the night ... the night, the dreaded darkness when he paid for the daylight luxuries with whispered lies, reluctant hands upon dissipated bodies, and the drugs which whipped his rebellious penis into shape for the plunge into the soft soggy depths of their ancient stinking cunts! He had been made to feel like dirt, but that was over. Now he was the Master, and the Master he would remain! He picked up the whip from the counter and began the endless slap- slapping against his leg. Jason Benson scarcely felt the light blows, yet it was whipping his mind into a frenzy. He knew what was happening to him. He wanted it to happen. He needed to be lashed into excitement ... for the years, the long tedious years of servitude to lonely old women had taken its toll. He craved the cry of a woman punished. He needed complete degradation of a woman, absolute domination over her before his lethargic penis would react and feel life. He looked at the bit of white cloth on the floor at his feet, the bra which kept those beautiful breasts from his sight and he smiled his cold hating smile. Carolyn shuddered inwardly at the sight of his icy smile. Jason sensed her discomfort and wallowed in it. Perhaps he could turn the knife in her guts. "It has always been my theory," he began in the clinical tone which severed his mind from his acts of debauchery, "that the human mind is highly inconsistent in its relationships with animals." He backed Carolyn into the corner again with slow deliberate steps and once more stood spread-legged blocking the only way to freedom. She knew there would be no freedom for her, ever again. Even if she were to escape from this mad house she could never wash away the terrible memory of what she had done ... or what she would yet be forced to do. She stood naked before this man and his whip, staring at the floor, expressionless, trembling with tension, numb with fear. "Man subdued the boar to savor its flesh," Jason continued, stimulated by her submission, intent upon her demise. "He tamed the wild horse for transportation, made him docile and rode him for pleasure. For centuries we've taken sustenance from the cow and the goat. Every school child knows the pleasure of a pet. Don't you see, he has used animals for centuries, used them in every way except the one function which is most vital!" Carolyn didn't see. She stood bare and bewildered before his tirade, her head down, appearing hardly more than a domesticated beast of the field herself. "Man is so damnably inconsistent! He's so caught up in his own web of golden rules that he cannot see the pleasures for all the puny penalties that warp his existence! Medical science has proven beyond doubt that the end-all motivation of mankind is sex. SEX!" "Hey, you're playing my song," came the flip reply from the open doorway. Mario leaned against the sill, arms folded across his chest and let his dark eyes roam Carolyn's naked body. "Sex is my favorite meal." Carolyn didn't have to look up to know his lustful eyes were devouring her body. The red flush of embarrassment tinted her pale flesh. "Now, don't you go blushing for me, baby," Mario teased, "There ain't nuthin' I like more than a pretty girl, specially when they're bare ass naked and full of all that motivation jazz the boss man was talking about." Jason looked reprovingly at his young assistant. That was the trouble with youth, he though they hadn't the experience nor