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From: "Pellaz har-Aralis" <wraethuthu@hotmail.com>
Subject: [REPOST] The Book Part 10/11 (mc, MF, FF, mdom, fem mast, exhib, lact, inc)
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I did not write this story, and I don't know who did.
I've tried to fix the paragraphing a bit, but I might
have overdone it a bit.  (Though it *IS* a lot better
to read when the paragraphs aren't 500+ lines each.)


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alt.sex.stories message #2258 (#0) from Paul Seung Lee
<pslee@harp.aix.calpoly.edu>.  Entered on 18-Feb-95, at 11:16:00.
  Reply to message #2249 (There are more replies.)

Subject: the_book part 10
=========================


	_Out of Print_ (The_Book_pt10) 
Something odd was happening. Jorge noticed the noises in the 
room had stopped. 

He wondered if thiopental deadened normal senses. They said 
the effect was different on everyone. The white cloaked man 
asked him to count backwards, so he had laughed. Laughing 
failed to stop the drug from working however. 

Some questions he ignored at first. But then he started 
telling them about the caves in Denmark and then Edda. They 
seemed very interested in anything about the symbols. They 
never heard of them before. And when he mentioned the Cabal, 
they looked very startled. 

One of the men started mumbling something about subjects 
lying while under the drug before. They were very excited 
though. 

It seemed hours passed before his head began to clear a 
little and he started getting very drowsy. 
Then quiet settled over the room. 

A strap over his forehead came undone. He tried to crane his 
neck, but some kind of cap was being removed from his hair. 
It pulled at him, making it feel as though the roots were 
being yanked out. Looking from side to side, he was able to 
make out one man burning a bunch of tapes in a trash can. 
His arms came free. The straps holding his legs and ankles 
went next. 

One man was politely offering him a hand to get up. His head 
spun a bit as he sat. The room, a sterile space, was 
littered with various bits of equipment normally found in a 
doctor's office. A pair of oxygen tanks stood nearby, a 
desk, a set of chairs, and various assorted paraphenalia. 

The room contained only three men besides himself. They were 
all busy, making themselves ingratiating. The one burning 
the tapes was smiling and nodding at him. One offered 
tylenol for the headache he must now have. The third watched 
at the door, keeping an eye out for someone. 

Their sudden change in behavior seemed very odd. They even 
still had mind shields on. He tried to probe all three 
without success. 

A cardboard box on the floor contained his clothing and 
belongings. He poked through it, looking for a most important 
article, his watch. Finding it, he turned it over. The 
medallion was still attached. The foolish interrogators never 
checked.  

He put in on, and doing so, felt vastly refreshed. 

Then he spotted a phone on the desk. He managed, with some 
help from a former captor, to stumble over to it. Lifting the 
handset, he tried dialing only to get a horrible tone for the 
effort. 

The man beside him picked up the phone, held down the switch 
hook for a few moments, then dialed '9'. He handed the phone 
back with the steady hum Jorge was accustom to. Jorge dialed 
again. 

"You've reached the offices of Schmitz, Martin, and Lear. May 
I help you?" came a feminine voice. 

Jorge smiled for the first time since the gas put him in 
dreamland. He recalled how nicely the owner of that voice 
screamed in the sack. 

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Lear, Cindy." 

==== 

Leisure activity at an end, Jones stepped into the hall. The 
very first man he saw was a guard. 

Jones learned his craft years before. Every stitch out of 
place triggered some small part of his paranoid senses. 
Something was wrong. He knew it but couldn't find the cause. 

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a second mind shield. 
One he'd taken from the lab techs who could have handled Bob 
on the gurney. He examined the hearing aid like device in his 
palm and looked down the hall at the receding backside of the 
guard. 

The man's ears were both visible. 

There was no mind shield. He suppressed his panic, and 
stepped back into the room with Diane. Grabbing her, he led 
her into Heather's room. He picked up one of the local 
censure shields, a skull cap like device to place over a 
telepath's head, intended to suppress the talent. 

Seeing one man with his mind shield still in place, Jones 
stopped him along the way. He brought the man along. If he 
could get anyone out who was capable of helping the Institute 
rebuild elsewhere, it would prove useful. 

Peters didn't know what was going on. But Jones was the 
number two man at the Institute. Peters wasn't going to lose 
his status by following the man's orders. He quickly complied 
with the directions he was given. 

He led the little troop towards the river side exit. There 
were speedboats there. The loose spark couldn't control 
everyone. If only there was time enough left... 

==== 

Sunlight filled the room. Like a glass full of sparkling 
clear water, the sun washed to every corner, flooded the long 
wooden shelves, illuminating the oak desk. 

Bob stood at the window. He tried to imagine mowing the yard 
before him. The number of tight corners, hedges, trees and 
other obstacles must make the gardeners crazy, he decided. A 
numbing escape into physical labor only goes so far before it 
becomes annoying. 

Birds seemed to like the greenery. He tried to touch one of 
the flight borne creatures with a mind probe, but had 
forgotten the shield at the outer walls of the building. Some 
other time perhaps. 

Jorge was led in by two of the men who interrogated him. He 
was back in his own things. It was much more comfortable than a 
blue hospital gown. The mess here would be settled soon. The 
Cabal was on the way. 

Bob didn't turn as he spoke. 

"The records of your interrogation have been destroyed, and 
the goons can't remember a thing," he said, watching a 
cardinal soar on bright red wings. 

"Who are you?" 

"Me? I'm Bob. You are Jorge." 

"Oho! You must be the escaped Robert Lawrence that man was; 
wait a minute!" Jorge walked over to look out the window too. 
The clouds were puffing along, accenting a beautiful blue 
sky. 

"Hmm," Bob faced towards the freed telepath. "what?" 

"Where's the guy who questioned me about you? He was in 
charge of this place." 

"What did he look like?' 

"Perfect suit, black hair, manicured, muscular, short nose. 
About 42, give or take a few years. The kind you see as the 
heavy CIA type in flicks." 

"That should be Jones. Dirk Jones is how he introduced 
himself to me." 

"Yeah, if you say so. But he was in charge, what'd you do 
with him?" 

"No, he wasn't. Some guy named Thadeous was. Neither of them 
are still here. Sorry, I haven't found your reporter friend 
yet either. You do know, by the way, how bad an idea it would 
be if she actually aired this story?" 

"She's not going to tell anyone. You know that." 

"And I expect your gang of thugs at any minute." 

"Huh?" 

"This Cabal, or whatever." 

"You got that? Say, how did you get past those mind 
shields?" "They're shaped funny, like donuts. I didn't know 
until they tried to experiment on me with some kind of 
control machine. Your people will probably find it soon 
enough. Like donuts, there's this hole in the middle. If I 
had to guess, they probably transmit some kind of energy 
through an antennae. Most antennas have some dead spots. You 
just need to know where." 

"Really? Now I know, so lots of others will know too. You 
want, the Cabal would welcome you as a member." 

"No thanks. Until Thadeous and Jones are caught though, I'd 
like to stay in touch with your people." 

"I'll see what I can arrange. The Cabal won't have any 
trouble with that." 

"Tell me a little about them. Who the hell is the Cabal?" 

"What's to tell? It's an international organization, mostly 
based in the States because of the effort the Cabal put in 
moving here to escape persecution in Europe. The name is new by 
a few centuries. It was borrowed from a group in England under 
one of the kings named Charles. I don't know enough history to 
know what it was called before that. 

"Let's see, the Cabal has been under siege a few times 
before. None with secretly organized opposition though. This 
Institute scares the leadership a whole hell of a lot." 

"I can imagine..." 

"No you can't, it's never happened like this before. The 
Cabal has suffered from a few outside threats, but no one 
immune to the Voice. Internally, we have occasional 
problems, but those we can handle." 

"How about those internal problems. Why would anyone be 
stupid enough to cause trouble when a whole bunch of 
telepaths would be all over them in a hurry?" 

"No one in their right mind would. But anyone with the Voice 
has a substantially higher risk of insanity. If you've even 
a tenuous grip on reality, follow the 'rules', no one in the 
Cabal gives a fuck. 

"In essence, if you call attention to anyone with Voice, 
mostly yourself, we try to convince you to ease back. We 
don't want any witch hunts. 

"The Cabal doesn't much care what someone does with the 
Voice. Mostly. Stay away from power politics, it's too easy 
to spot the personality changes the highly visible mutes go 
through your voice influences them. 

"There are also strict rules against violence, murdering 
mutes even by proxy, or even just maiming them. Its another 
thing that attracts too much attention. If you get enough 
mutes involved, they may figure out what happened, and 
then... you can guess. 

"This mess here for instance. Exactly the sort of thing the 
Institute was doing. I was out here looking for them. I've 
only been hanging out in the area a year, but everyone I 
work with think I've been here for five. The planted 
familiarity sometimes can get additional leads. The 
Institute's influence hit about two to three years ago, but 
we've been unable to track them down." 

"Yeah," said Bob, "I can see why a group like the Cabal 
would form. But I don't like the idea of making too close an 
association." 

"Embarrassed about your own set of playmates? The Cabal 
really doesn't care about that. They're too worried about 
Voices that act genuinely loco. Hell, they're much worse 
than you, I'm sure." 

"That reminds me. They should be here any minute now. So what 
will you do with all the looney people the Institute has 
locked up here?" 

"I'm not sure. It's against the rules to control other 
members and people with the Voice. We save it for special 
situations requiring censure. Some of these people have the 
Voice. They may simply need a little adjustment to return to 
more normal lives." 

"Normal? You've got to be kidding." 

"If we have to, we can make them mute again. They'll have a 
chance again, as soon as a little adjustment is made. A team 
will come in, remove the 'God' syndrome and fix the worst. I 
doubt we'll need to do much worse. As long as they're no longer 
a danger to the rest of us." 

"I hope so," said Bob 

"Just the way I feel." 

Bob closed his eyes, sensing an additional presence. He 
didn't need to root around the room though to find it. The 
familiar symbols almost cried out to be found. 

"Can I see your watch?"  

"Huh? What for?" 

"I just want to see the source of the symbols I keep..., 
they're at your wrist." 

"You see the symbols?!" 

"I read a book. You read a cave wall. I think you and I may 
be unique. Most of the 'sparks' here are freaks of nature, 
finding their talent by one freak accident or another. You 
and I seem to have woken it by seeing the symbols." 

Reluctantly, Jorge removed the watch. He pulled the concealed 
medallion from it's hiding place. Bob turned it in his hands, 
basking in a glow of definitions, descriptions and experiences 
from the red coin like object. He handed it back after a moment. 

"Very interesting, where'd you find that?" 

"In a locket from the cave. I learned about the symbols 
through it, more so than the scrawls in the cave." 

"An unusual keepsake. Are there more?" 

"I've never seen another one, you?" 

"Oh no," Bob lied, "I'd know if one of those had passed under 
my eyes." They both peered out the window to the brightly 
light lawn. Silence fell over them, a quiet born of the 
strange situation. Trouble shooter rescued by amateur, waiting 
for the rest of the cavalry. 

Jorge tried to think of ways to reach out to the younger man. 
He wanted to know more about the book, yet somehow knew the 
subject had been closed. Hands in his pockets, he looked at 
the tall man, wondering what to say.  

"What will you do once we take over this mess?" 

"I'm going to hide for a while, some place with lots of 
people." Jorge grinned, "and probably lots of attractive women 
too." 

"Yeah," Bob grinned back, "as many as I can find. I've got 
this habit, see..." 

==== 

As Fran drove them away he looked back at the Institute.  

Miki was acting snippish, jealous of Fran and the deep kiss 
from Bob when he greeted her. Bob deliberately made Miki watch 
as he gave Fran a violent orgasm in the car. Miki's embarrassment 
was turning into a deep humiliation, and he could sense deep 
down she liked the treatment. 

He watched the manicured lawn and the frightening building 
vanished from sight. As they passed through the gates, his 
imprisonment passed away into a memory. 

Too bad he couldn't make the Institute's organization vanish 
as easily. 

==== 

>From the balcony, it seemed the view went forever. She could 
make out Denver in the distance. It was hazy, slightly marring 
the rest of the countryside. 

Diane was confused. Heather was very important to her, but why 
were they here? She wanted to go home, if only to get a change 
of clothes. The people they traveled with were in such a rush. 
Hurry to the plane, hurry to the car, hurry in the house. It 
was very unnerving. 

Every now and then, the man who confused her by claiming to be 
Bob insisted she service his peculiar needs. He still insisted 
on being called Master. And Heather insisted she had to 
cooperate. He always left a foul taste in her mouth, in much 
more than the physical sense. He made her feel dirty. 

He never touched Heather though. That was a small consolation. 
She could hear his voice. He was talking to someone in the 
study above. They probably didn't know the window was open. 

"I tell you we can still do it!" 

"The Senator will be difficult to control. I'm not certain we 
can continue operations until we've re-established ourselves 
here." 

"As long as we have at least one of the sparks, we can still 
sell the process!"  

"No," a strange male baritone replied. "I won't chance it 
until we've gotten a few more under our thumbs. I do thank 
you for bringing Heather. But we've got to get these two 
sparks. I have the folder on Robert Lawrence, and our field 
agents are gathering the necessary information on Jorge 
Dansen as well. Too bad the debriefing material for him was 
lost." 

"I only just got out of there with the spark. The reporter 
was with me at the time. I couldn't have gotten the tapes if 
I'd tried. You know if I had, they'd be picking my brains 
too. Not just the lab techs we left behind. And they don't 
need drugs to learn everything someone knows." 

"I know, I know. But I don't think Jezabel will understand." 

A shiver went through Diane, hearing the tone in the 
stranger's voice. Out of her sight, Jones shuddered at the 
name as well. 

==== 

The trip was uneventful. The probe at the gate was gone. 
Whether removed by the Institute or driven away by the Cabal, 
Bob had no idea. 

They settled into the hotel suite very nicely, the women 
spreading out all over. They had a nice view of Central Park 
looking north from the balcony.  
 
A man named Charles came by to visit. Jorge sent him. The 
man looked a little like an academic, dressed as though he 
should pass for a professor. The wire frame glasses kept 
sliding down his nose. 

Bob knew the Charles was in charge of Cabal security or 
something like it. They chatted a while. Bob didn't tell 
Charles anything he hadn't told Jorge. Still, the man was 
grateful to Bob for helping. He insisted on a substantial 
reward from the Cabal. 

The Cabal demonstrated their gratitude to Bob in a monetary 
way. When Charles learned how carefully he'd been 
accumulating his income, he arranged a sizable retainer fee. 
Bob was now a semi-official consultant of the Schmitz, 
Martin and Lear law firm. 

They also promised to provide an accountant if he wanted. 
He'd declined. If someone else was going to watch his money, 
it would be someone he controlled. 

It was uncomfortable having older siblings watching his 
every move. Even if they were being protective. 

==== 

His traveling harem had gone shopping. 

Betty was excited about visiting Saks. Bob was more 
interested in a town-house for the 'family'. First though, 
he had to get more familiar with the City. He decided to 
explore a little on his own. 

Manhattan is huge. 

Bob was boggled at the shear size of it, the density of the 
buildings, the number of people. For a seventeen to eighteen 
mile long, five mile wide island, it was overwhelming him. 
He went downtown to Chinatown. From there he walked north 
through the village, Greenwich Village. Past the New York 
University buildings and through Washington Square Park. He 
stopped for an early lunch near a used book store he'd found 
around 12th street. 

He continued on. The crowds were amazing, rushing from place 
to place, hurrying to get where they were going so they 
could rush some where else. He was unaccustomed to the waves 
of people. 

At 33th street, an interesting game store had attracted his 
attention. Too bad he really couldn't play competitively any 
more. His discipline would have to improve significantly to 
keep from reading an opponent's mind. 

He wandered around, sampling food from street vendors, 
immersing himself in the crowds. In the heat, scantily clad 
women glowed as their exposed skin became moist. Crossing 
Herald Square, he avoided the plethora of beggars in the 
little islands between the avenues. 

After wandering about in a camera/electronics store for a 
while, he decided to visit some of the Museums. The shopping 
crowd was beginning to oppress him. Too many rushing people. 

He climbed into a taxi in front of Madison Square Garden, 
across from the Post Office. 

==== 

Courtney was walking alone through the Gem exhibit.  
The day was very peaceful. She'd taken off work to avoid the 
heat in her office. Sometime, her boss promised, they'd get 
air conditioning put in. In the meanwhile everyone had to 
live with it. 

Today she'd escaped. The tiger's eye was her favorite 
gemstone. There were a bunch of them here in the Museum of 
Natural History. The more popular stones attracted the 
tourists, but the tiger's eye were the loveliest stones here. 
She also liked the opals, but she knew the colors came from 
the moisture in opal, not the stone itself. Tiger's eye was 
its own natural wonder. 

She wandered out past the moon rock, encased in Plexiglas of 
some sort. There the school aged kids were gathered with 
their mothers. The distant origins of the stone chunk 
attracted as much attention as the rare gems of Earth. 

A tall man looked on, over the children. He seemed as 
fascinated as the kids. Was it her imagination, or was he 
watching her too? She was used to men looking at her though, 
they found her attractive. 

She stepped out into the hall. She started towards the 
exhibit of American Indian artifacts. Brushing her red 
paisley dress smooth, she failed to notice how it accented 
her figure. The low heeled, white shoes she wore set off the 
laced socks she'd worn well. 

She passed a museum guard, whose head followed the swish of 
her dress' hem with momentary interest. He admired the 
section of exposed leg, a calf turned with gentle and elegant 
curves. 

The old drums and pictures of tepees adorning the walls 
didn't attract her attention as much as the dugout canoe. She 
wondered how long it took to hollow out, the birch bark canoe 
had to be easier to make. 

She clasped her hands behind her back, stepping from exhibit 
to exhibit. These weren't as interesting as the tiger's eye, 
but it remained a relaxing escape. 

Behind her, a teenage boy admired the round shape of her 
bottom and the drop of her dark pony tail as his parents 
called him away. She never noticed. 

She did catch a glimpse of the tall dirty blond fellow again, 
examining the same dugout she'd looked at a while ago. He was 
handsome enough, maybe she could introduce herself. He 
wandered off before she made up her mind. Sigh, so it goes, 
she thought. 

In the hall with the insect models she shuddered. She slipped 
past them to see the whale. Hanging from the ceiling, it was 
impressive. She liked the elegance of its long sleek 
features. 

She walked down the stairs, drawing attention from the male 
half of a couple going up. The guy's girlfriend punched him, 
whispered voices conveying disapproval of his behavior. She 
smiled to herself. 

Before the case showing the stuffed Seals she spied the tall 
guy she'd seen elsewhere in the museum. This time she was 
going to get close. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed. 
He wore a stylish pair of trousers, a light cotton shirt, and 
dark running shoes. She thought about introducing herself. 

This whole thing was very unlike her. She almost never walked 
up to a stranger to introduce herself. She stepped over to 
stand beside him anyway, uncertain where her courage was 
coming from. 

He turned, flashing her a sweet disarming smile. Her insides 
melted a bit. Nerves took over. She froze up, barely managing 
to smile back. "Hello."  

"Hi," she squeaked. A short pause occurred. 

"My name is Bob. I'm only visiting New York for the second 
time." "I'm Courtney," she bobbed up on her tip toes, 
guessing him to be about six foot four. Her five and an 
half foot height forced her to tilt her head back to look at 
his face.  She could see his eyes linger on the rise of her 
bust, thrust forward by tilting her head. 

"What would you say to accompanying me through some more of 
the museum?" 

"Sounds promising." 

They walked for some time. She lost track of where they'd 
been. He was very absorbing to listen to. If asked, she 
couldn't have said what he talked about though. He was so, 
so, well, interesting for some reason. 

By the time they walked through the exhibit of dinosaur 
bones, and passed the large sea turtle, she had her arm 
intertwined with his. Her head seemed almost magnetically 
drawn against his shoulder. 

"How about we go outside, get a drink some place," he 
suggested. 

"I'd like that." 

As they emerged into the late afternoon sun, he allowed her 
to nuzzle against him as though they were long time lovers. 
His warmth wasn't the attraction, but attracted she was, 
clinging as she'd never done with anyone before. 

"They blow up the balloons for the Thanksgiving Day parade on 
this street," she told him. He chuckled. 

"I presume you mean they inflate them, not explode them." 
She turned red for a moment, embarrassed, although she knew 
he was pulling her leg.  

"It's great to come the night before the parade. Everyone 
comes. It's a huge party up and down the block. I've seen 
Woody Allen out here to see the event." 

"Nice. Could be a lot of fun." 

They walked away from Central Park, then south. He was 
particularly fascinated with a store featuring wind up toys. 
The name was "The Last Wound Up" and they had to go in. He 
bought her a set of walking teeth. She laughed as they 
clattered across the countertop. 

They stopped at a cafe, pulling up a table by the window. She 
had Cappuccino, he had Expresso. She'd never seen anyone put 
cream and sugar into Expresso. He called it Turkish style. He 
was remarkably quiet now, letting her run her mouth about her 
life. 

She told him how she'd come to New York to work as an 
actress. She talked about the problems with apartments, the 
job market, her favorite recent movie. 

When he excused himself to use the men's room she admonished 
herself. She was practically flinging herself at him. She'd 
only just met him, and here she was telling him her life 
story. It was very out of character for her, the aloof woman 
she'd become, but she wanted to spend the rest of the evening 
with him. 

Hopefully, she would have many evenings with him. 

==== 

In the men's room, Bob rinsed his face. Two men slipped in 
the two stall bathroom after him. He had just washed his 
hands, when one of them grabbed his shoulders and slammed him 
back against the wall.  

A knife glinted in the glare of harsh bare lightbulbs. The 
brawny man before him started to lunge... never to make it. 
His eyes glazed over, then his accomplice froze as well. 
Bob found the image of another man, a buddy, in their minds. 

They'd been told to roll him, take anything they wanted, but 
to leave him dead. They'd followed him since early in the 
morning. The buddy, someone they occasionally did work for, 
hadn't said why. And these two never would've asked anyway. 
He pulled everything from them they knew about their charming 
pal. Then he left. 

About fifteen minutes later, a blue uniformed patrolman was 
listening to the two confess everything illegal they'd done 
since kindergarten. They listened to him read them their 
rights, but they breezed on through everything again, 
explaining in detail where he could get evidence. 

Bob by then was back with the girl. Very lightly adjusting 
her impressions of him to make him as seductive a partner as 
she'd ever met in her life. A dream like lover or prince to 
her. She was dizzy as he quickly either adjusted her the 
slightest amount, or by reading her mind took advantage of 
her own desires. 

He was going to take her. And use her to sheath his tool. 

==== 

Courtney enjoyed the flick, a romantic comedy about some guy, 
his kid and a truly improbable girlfriend. She held Bob's 
hand the entire time, unwilling to let him go. 

The night was cooler. They walked to the upper west side, 
wandering around west of Columbia. Her apartment was near by, 
it was time to call it a night. 

She took him along to her building stoop. They sat and 
watched the comings and goings from the neighborhood a little 
while.  

"I've got to go to bed," she told him. 

He smiled and took her by the hand to the door. She teetered 
back and forth a few minutes, while he stood there. 

"Come up for a quick soda, but then you'll have to go."  

His head tilted quizically, but he agreed. She couldn't 
escape the seductive draw he had about him. She found her 
eyes swallowed in his dark gray pool like eyes. 

Unlocking the door she guided him into the narrow apartment. 
The living room shared space with the kitchenette. Her air 
conditioner had started on the time, so the apartment was 
cooler than out doors. Not much cooler, but enough to make it 
livable. 
 
The bedroom, slightly unkempt, showed through the door next 
to the stove. She started to go pull the door to the bedroom 
closed, but his hand firmly grasped her shoulder. 

She turned and her eyes again were drawn to his. She couldn't 
yank her eyes aside at all. Her mouth hung open as he drew 
close. She backed against a chair, stumbling, but not taking 
her eyes from his. Her head tilted unconsciously back as his 
lips met hers. 

Finally her eyes were off his. They were closed as she lost 
herself in the lusty exchange of greetings between their 
tongues. She could feel strength in his arms as he reached 
behind her, pulling her torso close to his own. A dream 
quality, as though she were only present as an observer, 
crept over her. 

She pulled back. 

"I don't think we'd better..." 

He drew her in again. The sensual touch of his body against 
her sent a tingling and pleasant feeling into her stomach. 
The hum of the air conditioner covered her gasp of pleasure 
as he gently gripped her ass, more a light massage than a 
grasp. 

She tried to pull away, but his tongue held her like a 
magnet. She pressed against his chest lighter than she 
intended, planning to escape from his clasp. 

Lingering kisses from him were covering her face. Chest 
heaving now with excited interest, she found her eyes were 
rolling from the sensation of being tenderly worshiped.  

She didn't want to let this happen. She didn't. But Bob was 
in control of the moment, pulling her in tighter, raining 
little goose bump raising kisses about her neck and 
shoulders. 

Then his fingers found her breast. She drew in a sharp gasp 
as the electric bolt of arousal shot through to her throat. 
The fabric added its own gentle silk feel to his touch, 
giving the contact a jolting and burning sensation. 

She managed weakly to pull back, panting. Lips swollen with 
lust filled excitement, she shook her head trying to shake 
free from the cobwebs tangling her mind. 

This couldn't be, she thought. She never let anyone in on the 
first date. And never necked or petted if she didn't know 
them pretty well. Bob though, he, well, he was almost 
mystically enticing. And well, she could stop him now, 
couldn't she? 

He drew her to the couch and pulled her down. 

The sounds of City life were battering down the walls, 
sirens, yelling couples, kids crying out in the night. She 
heard her own heart over the normal City noises, pounding 
excitedly as the man beneath her sucked in her lips, wrestled 
with her tongue, and took free liberties with her breasts.  

It was a dreamy kind of excitement. A wild trip, a roller 
coaster with Bob's hands gently kneeding the concealed flesh 
through her clothing. Every time she opened her eyes they 
rolled about, bringing her head into gyrating motions of lust. 

The kisses he passionately endowed to her were searing hot, 
bringing a wet lust into her throat.  

"Unnngh."  
 
Her discussion was lowering to simple moans, she locked her 
hand about Bob's wrist, the one with the molesting hand 
attached. But she couldn't bring herself to push the hand 
away as she knew she should.  

His breath brought a flaming red heat to her skin. A crawling 
feeling of pleasure crept across the back of her shoulders.  

"Oh, please, I can't..." 

Her head lolled back as he treated her neck and throat to a 
bath from his tongue and lips. 

"No. No. Don't do this..." 

That villainous hand was resting on her right leg. Right at 
the knee. The fingers were caressing the flesh there, 
exploring the inside of her leg. 

"Oh. Please don't do that..." 

The hand slowly inched upwards. She snatch at it with her 
left hand while he tongued the slight cleavage exposed in the 
red paisley print. However tightly she griped the hand 
though, she found herself almost guiding him forward, helping 
to lift the hem of the dress above her thighs.  

Sensing her vulnerability, he was going to get his fingers on 
her sopping wet crotch. She was ashamed, shocked she was 
allowing a one day acquaintance do this to her. The tips of 
his fingers teased her flesh through the wet panties. She 
knew he now was aware just how wet she'd become. She was 
certain her face was pink. The shame at letting him get this 
far tonight was affecting her breathing, bringing the panting 
to a heavier level. 

"Ohhh! I don't want to do this, not tonight... ohhhh!" 

"Sure you do," he whispered into the ear he was nibbling. A 
wet soft tongue explored the recesses there afterwards. 

"No, no. It isn't right. Ahhh! I hardly know you..." 

"Soon you'll beg me, I promise to get you hot enough to 
forget any reason for hesitating."  

His fingers had teased her crotch to the point it was rolling 
on its own, betraying her professed wishes. Her pelvis was 
trying to join in, generating a rhythm she struggled to 
suppress. And failed.  

"ooooohhh!"  

Her tongue protruded its tip out, pressing against her lips. 
She could feel his mouth at her tits, chewing lightly through 
the cloth. Her nipples were shooting energy out her chest in 
all directions. Their erect state was clearly visible through 
the dress, any time he lifted his head. 

"ooooohhh!" 

A guttural groan rose within her. The day's excitement was 
growing into the night's excitement. Her body was engaged in 
sex without her permission. She couldn't stop him. His entire 
hand now cupped her crotch. Heat was rising from there as 
well.  

"ooooohhh!" 

She could feel him pull back a bit. Her dilemma at wanting to 
go on, and wanting to stop remained in his hands. He began to 
lift her dress up over her head. She struggled to stop him, 
pushing him away. But he simply took her wrists in one hand 
and did the work with his other. Stripped to her bra and 
panties, she felt exposed. The shame she felt earlier rose 
again, turning her pink. 

He paused only to chuckle at her embarrassment. His fingers 
again working their magic at her crotch. There was a magic 
too, for all the arousal he gave her, she seemed unlikely to 
come soon. She was on the up side of a roller coaster, and 
there was no telling when she'd come down. 

Her body's excitement grew. Her mind was wallowing in the 
shame at the loss of control over her own desires. His finger 
tips flew along the length of her most private parts, forcing 
the fluids to rise inside. 

"ooooohhh! unnnggh, stop, unnnggh, please stop... why are 
you, ooooohhh!, doing this to me???..." 

The spiral of excitement climbed higher as her hips lunged 
against his hand. Her head rolled. And again he stopped. She 
couldn't decide whether to scream for him to leave or to 
continue. 

He lifted her. Carrying her draped across his shoulders like 
so much waste in a large sack, he hauled her to the bedroom. 
She never let anyone in here. She knew she was being 
violated, but her body was an accomplice in the act. He eased 
her onto the bed, and pulled off the panties, her shoes, and 
undid the bra she still wore. Her body continued to throb 
with desire against her wishes. 

Still wearing her lacy socks, she was rolled onto her back. 
He stood there undressing as she watched panting. 

"Don't do this. I beg you, stop now. Maybe we can do this 
some other time, when we've known each other longer." 

He chuckled again. 

"I'm taking you now. And instead of begging me to stop, you'd 
best consider begging me to fuck you. You might want to get 
over eventually, and you'll only get there if I take you." 

"No, ooooohhh, can't be true." 

He was beside her again, naked. Her flesh against his flesh. 
She could feel the draw, the magnetism, a seductive pull from 
the man. He had her body under his sway, and she couldn't 
change that. 

"ooooohhh!" 

Her moaning commenced again. He wrapped his arms around her, 
spooning her with his stiff prick against the crack of her 
ass. Right hand cupping her crotch again, he cupped her left 
breast in the other. His lips worked across her shoulders to 
her neck and back.  

Goose bumps ran up and down the length of her body. She 
couldn't keep her legs together. Her right foot desperately 
sought to be behind his legs, pulling him closer to her. A 
finger slipped into her vagina, sending pulses into her.  

Her already heightened state accelerated, her left arm 
pounding against the mattress, seeking release. She gasped. 
She moaned. The air in her lungs gushed out, only to be 
replaced in seconds by a rush of fresh oxygen.  

"No," she gasped again. "no..." 

His cock was rubbing in and out along her cheeks. A tingling 
pleasant feel rose from her bottom. Where she lay now, 
trapped in Bob's arms, she couldn't change no matter what. 

She needed to come. She had to come. The orgasm she needed 
was just another step on the ladder of ecstasy, she could 
tell. However, nothing changed to give her the release her 
body demanded. Frantically, she pushed herself farther along, 
and just as frantically the release moved another step away.  

"No. no, ooooohhh!" 

"You want to come?" came his harassing voice. 

"Oh Yes! ooooohhh!" 

"You'll have to beg for it..." 

"AAAHHHH, I-I CAN'T!" 

"Oh, come on now, let's here it. 'Please fuck me, please fill 
my pussy', you can do it..." 

"no, no, aaaahhh, nooooo..." 

The fingers in her cunt began to work her clitoris, the 
nerves virtually shouted in combinations of pain and 
pleasure. Her body was pounding against him, rocking the 
mattress now. 

"You either beg, or you won't get what you want..." 

"OH GOD, why are you doing this to me...?" 

"Because you're so pretty as you plead with me. It excites 
me, and you seem to crave this kind of treatment." 

"no, no, aaaaahhhyyyyyaa!" 

"Oh yes..." 

"You're humiliating me. nnnnngggh, you bastard." 

"Yes, but it's making you so fucking hot isn't it? ISN'T 
IT?!" 

"No, no, no, .... aaaahhhh, yes it is you fuck." 

"Be nice, beg...." 

Her cheeks were being prodded nicely by his manhood. She 
wanted him in her now. She was horribly ashamed of herself 
for failing to stop him from going this far, but now she was 
trapped in a cycle of arousal. Requiring release, now she 
knew begging for it was the only way. 

"Okay, please fuck me....nnnnnnggg." 

"What? I don't think that was very good... try again." 

"GOD! fug me, please, oh please put your prick in my cunt and 
make me come." 

"Good, much better. You keep it up nicely and I may yet let 
you come." 

"AAAHHHHIIEEE! unnngh, unnnggh!"  

Her panting grew heavier, the heaving of her chest as he 
abused the nipples was madly rhythmic. She'd fuck a goddamn 
horse if it would get her off now. She had to have that cock 
in her, and she had to have it now! 

He pulled her feet up onto his shoulders. Maddeningly, he 
admired the lacy socks a moment. Then he just teased the lips 
of her pussy with the tip of his prick, pulling away as she 
tried to lunge her crotch against him to get a plunge into 
her. She felt like a slut begging, and now a bit like a 
whore, trying to press him into her like this. 

He was grinning. 

"Before I fuck you, you should tell me what a useless rag you 
are. I want to hear you say how you are making yourself my 
property, forever." 

"You fucking bastard. I begged. I PLEADED. Please fuck me, 
goddammit! Can't you see how desperately I need it? I want 
you, I want you so bad it hurts inside." 

She rolled her head from side to side again. Her body 
writhing out of control. 

"Yeah, but that's old news. I want to hear you give me 
ownership of your body. I want you to admit you're no better 
than a slave..." 

"Aaahhhh! I give myself to you! please, please fuck me. 
Please treat me like property, but please fuck me now!" 

"Close, not treat you like, you are property. Say it." 

"I'm property, yours, body and soul. GoD! CAN'T TAKE IT. 
PLEASE!?" "Good bitch. Now..." 

He plunged into her. The fullness was grand! She rolled her 
head, ignoring the fact the right swing made her hang out 
over the edge. He pumped. She rejoiced as he pounded away, 
hammering with practiced skill. 

"Tell me, everything we agreed to while you come!" 

Humiliation swept deeply into her soul. It bit into where she 
kept her self respect, bringing out the shame she'd grown 
inside since she asked Bob in. She was low, an animal, no 
more important than a slug. She bit back her grunts, moaning 
as she began to speak, 

"I'm yours. unh, I belong oooohhh! to you. I want to be 
fucked. Use me as a rag. Unnngh! I need you to screw me hard! 
Please don't stop! unnnh..."  

Suddenly she felt the spurting of semen into her intimate 
parts. He grunted out a stern "YEES!". But she still hadn't 
come. He slowed down, she writhed about even more.  

"You promised me, please don't stop now! Please!" 

"Roll over bitch." 

"WHAT!" 

"You heard me." 

Her humiliation knew a new height. Desperate for release, she 
rolled. He pulled her up to her knees and pushed her face 
into the pillows in  
front of her. 

"Fuck me, please, let me come!" she continued to plead, 
knowing it didn't matter. He was going to do whatever he 
please with her, and she would happily consent. And assist. 

He was remarkably stiff for a man who just came. His prick 
rubbed against her little rosette, the nether hole, an even 
more private part of her anatomy. She never would've 
considered doing this before. She whimpered as he pushed his 
prick into her little asshole. 

"Yooow!" she yelped as he pressed it deeper. Her body was 
still rolling with waves of pleasure, anxious to orgasm. He 
pressed another inch into her. Surprisingly the fullness was 
desperately exciting as well. His cock finally pressed all 
the way home, his balls resting against the wet bottom of her 
cunt. 

"Unnnnggh!" she mouthed, breathing the sound out as well. His 
fingers found her clit again, and rubbed it in little 
circles. 

"Ready slut?" 

"Yes, please fuck my ass, god please fuck me hard!" and she 
whimpered again. 

His dominance of her was complete, she'd yielded everything 
she could. There simply wasn't anything left to give over 
tonight. 

His in and out motions built slowly. To her amazement, she 
found herself pushing back, forcing her ass to accept the 
bludgeoning instrument of invasion. She could feel the 
violation deep within her, her panting heaving from her in 
waves. 

Then. Then it began. She could feel the white heat rising. 
Flashing fires raged up from her ass, filled her from her 
clit, and even surged outward from the nipple he'd begun to 
pinch so brutally she thought she must be bleeding. 

"OOOOOOOHHHHIIIIIIEEEEE!" screamed her voice, as loud as 
she'd ever managed. Her body surged through a second orgasm 
following close on the heels of the first. His cock unleashed 
another pulse of fluid into her, leaving seed inside her most 
private regions. She screamed again, releasing another wave 
of orgasmic energy, almost slamming her head against the wall 
before her. 

She collapsed. Still kneeling, her body relieved of the tight 
tension of waiting, she gasped for air to recover. As she 
did, she could still feel him filling her ass. The humiliation 
returned in strength. She was too embarrassed to speak. 

He pulled out slowly, leaving her with a feeling she was 
missing something. She suddenly felt lonely without him in 
her. She longed for his penis within her, anywhere in her. 
She felt a longing well up within, desire for his touch. A 
desire to be a bare object, a tool for his use. She wondered 
at this nugget of desire, turning it in her mind. 

He rose. Slapping her sharply on the bottom. She smiled at 
this sign of ownership he'd made. At least he liked her, she 
thought. 

==== 

"Hiya, Jorge." 

"Where are you Bob?" 

"New York. Met your Mr. Charles." 

"Not Mr. Charles. Charles is his first name." 

"Really? Doesn't matter. How would the Institute trace me 
here? I mean, I had two guys try to kill me." 

"Jesus. How in the fuck could anyone find you that fast? 
Maybe scanners at the airport?" 

"No, no. I'd notice that. Gotta be something else." 

"Maybe a simple surveillance thing. Someone recognized you 
from a photo. It's possible, although I have a hard time 
figuring out where they'd spot you. Maybe they tumbled 
through the hotel reservation system. I don't know." 

"I guess. I just thought you'd like to know. I'm gonna look 
for their boss. Call if anything breaks on your end." 

"You bet. Maybe New York isn't such a good idea." 

"Maybe I'll be able to backtrack them if they keep it up." 

"Good point. Good night." 

"Yeah..." 

click. He hung up the handset. 

The naked sleeping woman was a sweaty mess from their sex. 
She was lovely though, serene in her repose. Lacy socks 
still in place.


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