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WARNING:
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".
Uncle Gaston And Niece
Chapter 1
Gaston Larreau smiled to himself. Guests, noting the
expression, anxiously returned it with one of their own, but truly
the little man was smiling in his own amusement. It pleased him
that celebrities and others of importance vied for invitations to
his weekly affairs. It gave him a certain inner sense of
superiority. He knew what they thought of him ... Canada's czar
of the underworld; yet, to be seen at one of Gaston's Larreau's
Mont Royale affairs was to be mentioned in the society columns of
the Montreal World. He hated them all; they were frauds and
parasites; yet, he appreciated them too, for they gave him an air
of legitimacy.
Gaston Larreau stood five-feet-seven-inches tall in his
exclusively hand designed, one-hundred-and-fifty dollar elevator
shoes; he was abundant of girth, broad at the shoulders, balding,
and meticulous of dress. His head, like his face, was round and
set close to his shoulders, and his small grey, almost colorless,
eyes were spaced too-wide apart, just as his too-small ears clung
tight to his head. The cicatrix left from an aged razor wound ran
the length of his right cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth,
making the flesh there puffed and malformed until he smiled, and
then the line of strong golden upper teeth became predominant.
Presently, he smiled with her by his side and moved amongst
them, always hating yet always appreciating, lashing and cutting
with his bitter tongue, but forever enjoying, listening to the
whispers, staring down the men and lecherously eyeing their women,
while unendingly squeezing her hand. She would be his ultimate
moment this evening. He looked forward to it as might a
connoisseur saving the finest wine until last. She had no idea
what was to come. The expression on her lovely face would be as
exciting to him as a moment of actual seduction, he thought. He
could wait; to savor in anticipation was often greater than the
act itself.
They whispered:
She is the niece?
She is Antoine's new wife three months, I think. But of
course, he's adopted, you know.
I didn't know. I thought he was actually related.
Hell, no. He's not a Larreau; his name is Poirier. That
monster adopted him when he was twelve ... conscience, I suppose
... inasmuch as he killed the boy's parents. A struggle for power
within the syndicate, as I understand it, and the lad's mother
happened to be in the car when the bomb went off.
My God! Are you certain, Chapput? That's a dreadful thing
to say unless you're certain ...
Certain? Who's certain about anything these days, M.
Minstre? I'm simply a reporter.
She is devastating, a female voice commented jealously.
Sexy, I believe is the modern term, my dear, replied her male
companion.
They say she comes from the Gaspe ... that horrid place,
spoke another female. Unbelievable ... such a lovely creature ...
Breathtaking. But why doesn't he have his own daughter act
as hostess, seeing she is home from college? It doesn't seem
right, does it?
Annette? Don't be silly. They don't get on, you know ... an
estrangement of some sort between them ... at least, that's what I
hear. Probably over her mother ... she's in an institution ...
has been for years.
I've heard, but I know little ... Tell me, is M. Larreau as
vile and evil a man as they say? tittered the first female voice.
Ask Chapput. He's the reporter, came a male retort.
Don't ask me anything. I need my job. Just look around you
and consider yourself one of the chosen ... the czar has commanded
your company.
Look! She's lovely. Isn't she lovely, Chapput? What to say
to him.
My God! She's lovely. Isn't she lovely, Chapput?
Tonight, she's lovely; tomorrow, well ... one hesitates to
guess ...
* * *
Madeleine Poirier watched her handsome young executive
husband from across the room. Uncle Gaston's so-called secretary,
Ginny Novak, continued to cling to his arm. It irked the
beautiful, raven-haired girl, but there was little to be done
about it; Uncle Gaston's Friday night cocktail-dinner parties were
a social must on their calendar; they had no choice but to attend,
it seemed, their wealthy and powerful benefactor having chosen her
to act as hostess and remain at his side. It was a distinct
honor, Antoine insisted, especially now that Annette was down from
Quebec where she attended Lavel, Universite. Madeleine tried, as
she had for the past eight weeks, to enjoy the distinction,
attempting to put her own inner burden temporarily from mind as
she assumed a false, worldly attitude, while the squat mighty
overlord clung to her small soft hand inside his own fat, sweaty
one; but invariably she felt uneasy ... hardly equal to the task,
and the manner in which the glamorous twenty-nine year old blonde
from the states hung possessively to her Antoine was annoying her
to no end.
Ginny Novak was never a secretary; in fact, Madeleine
wondered if she could write her own name correctly. She was Uncle
Gaston's mistress and nothing more. There had been a great number
of them over the last dozen years according to Antoine, ever since
Aunt Yolande had been put away in some institution or other ... a
mental case the family said; no one ever went to see her.
Antoine, himself, could hardly remember her; he was fifteen at the
time of her commitment, and he doubted if Annette remembered her
at all. She had been only nine, and he remembered no mother-
daughter relationship. A calloused, if, strikingly attractive
girl, Madeleine had opined from their very first meeting, and
constantly at odds with Uncle Gaston, seemingly taking pleasure in
defying him. Now, she looked about the room, but the nineteen
year old lovely was nowhere to be seen.
"Come, ma chere," Uncle Gaston said, distracting her fixed
dark eyes from Ginny Novak who was laughing gaily into the slender
handsome face of her husband. "It's time we reviewed this
assemblage of social leeches, eh?"
Sometime earlier in the evening, Madeleine had fastened a
perpetual little smile to her delicate-featured, oval face. She
offered it to him in answer as the emperor maneuvered her about
the luxurious room, always holding to her hand, introducing her to
new guests as his Madeleine, "... wife of that adopted nephew of
mine. Magnificent, isn't she? Sometimes, I wonder if the boy
realizes how lucky he is ..."
After awhile, Madeleine no longer blushed at his syrupy
compliments before others. It was natural that these praises
should react upon her ego, never in her poor existence having
known such flattery, but she hardly felt parallel to them and she
was pleased when other topics dominated the conversations,
especially politics and more worldly subjects in which she was not
expected to be versed. It gave her the opportunity to look
intelligent with pretended interest while her mind actually
wandered on many planes.
Sometimes, she could not believe this new, luxurious life she
had become a part of and she would have to pinch herself to know
that it was real. Then the lump of near-ultimate happiness would
rise into her throat, but always followed by the little tears of
pain as thoughts of her tiny Igat would rush to mind. Her shame
... her child ... her dreaded secret ... Dear God, how she longed
to hold the beloved little creature in her arms ... to cuddle her
... to mother her ... her own precious Igat. What would all of
these people think of her if they knew? What would Uncle Gaston
say? But more important than all, what would Antoine believe of
her, then? Oh God, she dare not even think of that; she loved him
so.
Now, automatically, she let her eyes search the room until
they found him again, and the little lump of near-happiness arose
in her throat. He stood among several guests engaged in
conversation, that blonde vixen beside him ... he stood taller
than the others, not handsome really, she supposed ... his face
was too thin and his nose too long, but it had been his gentleness
of eye and his firm, thin-lipped mouth that had first attracted
her ... that she had fallen in love with. She watched him smile;
his handsome white teeth sent a little thrill through her.
Antoine Poirier, President of Galaxy Mining, Ltd., how impressive
it sounded. Of course, Galaxy was one of Uncle Gaston's
enterprises and it was not as if Antoine had worked his way up the
ladder the hard way; all the same such an executive responsibility
required great intelligence and ability, and Uncle Gaston was not
to let him remain in such a capacity if he didn't merit it. She
was so proud of him ... loved him so ... God, if there was only
some way she could unburden her soul to him and have him
understand, perhaps, even bring her Igat into their family ...
Heavenly Father, how wonderful that would be ... if only there was
some way ... But she was groping for straws and she knew it.
There was just no way ... no way in the world ... at least, not at
this time with only three months of marriage behind them, and that
somewhat strained with their individual efforts of trying to
discover each other.
She thought about that now as she wore her pleasant little
smile and feigned being a good listener while Uncle Gaston argued
with Ernest Mallory, the Minister of Citizenship and Immigration
over existing, 'stupid' immigration laws. She thought about their
love-making, and her own inability to respond fully because of her
constant pressure of mind over Igat. In effect, the unfulfilled
results, time and again, had left her as flustered as Antoine, for
invariably, once he had emptied his loins into her, he would blame
himself over her lack of climactic achievement, often-times with
tears and swearing that next time it would be different ... but as
yet, it was not. Sometimes, she felt that he, too, was carrying
some heavy inner burden ... a business pressure probably, but she
didn't pry; when it was time, if he wanted her to know, he would
tell her. Nevertheless, their sexual fiascos had added to her
growing feeling of frustration, until she had reached this point
of even being jealous over the likes of Ginny Novak. Lord, she
had to get hold of herself. She was a woman of position now ...
"What is your opinion, Cheri?" Uncle Gaston interrupted her
train of thought, speaking in English for the benefit of the
Minister from Ottawa.
Madeleine caught herself; she never liked to appear the fool.
"I think my opinions are better left unsaid, Oncle," she replied
smiling somewhat shyly, entirely unaware of the nature of their
conversation.
"What's more, Madame Poirier is a diplomat, M'sieu'," Mallory
returned, smiling broadly. "As if being beautiful is not enough."
"You flatter me, M'sieu' Mallory," said Madeleine into his
pale, hawkish face. He was a tall man, lean and impressive of
stature, with fine eyes and an unruly shock of white hair. "I
fear if you gentlemen don't stop you'll turn my head."
"In my direction, I hope," the Minister teased.
Madeleine made an habitual gesture of tossing her head to
right her shoulder-length, raven-black hair even as she continued
to smile. The little movement caused her firm rounded breasts to
quiver in the thin, invisible bra behind the low-cut, white mini-
gown she wore and Uncle Gaston imagined that he heard male eyes
click as they locked upon the voluptuous spectacle. He squeezed
her hand and let his tongue wet his dry lips. It was time, he
thought. Why the hell should he wait any longer? He'd been
waiting all day. He stole a glance at Antoine and saw that Ginny
was keeping him occupied ... per instructions.
"You will pardon us, M'sieu' Mallory," Gaston Larreau excused
them, "but we must argue with the other guests too."
"Of course," said Mallory. "Perhaps we can get back into the
subject later, M'sieu' Larreau. There are some other
ramifications I believe you're overlooking ..."
"Later," the little czar replied bluntly. "Come, ma chere."
He held to her hand and led her across the room toward the archway
into the central hall, then addressed her in French: "There's
something I want to discuss with you, my pet."
"Oh ...?" said Madeleine, surprised. "What is it, Uncle?"
He retained her hand within his own and escorted her to his
large, paneled study. There, he let free of her, closed the
double doors, flicking the locking catch on the knob, then walked
toward his private bar to make them a drink. As yet, he had not
answered her and Madeleine watched his broad expensively covered
back move away from her; she glanced behind her at the closed,
locked door, then back at the squat, powerful man who now mixed
casually behind the bar. Occasionally, his colorless little eyes
raised from what he was doing and dwelled upon her face, then,
openly raked the length of her curvaceous body with an almost
lecherous gleam lighting them. He smiled, his gold teeth flashing
in the indirect lumination of the room. She felt a little catch
in her breathing and a certain clamminess moved along her spine as
he continued to smile ... almost leer while his eyes all but
stripped her naked.
Whatever it was all about, Madeleine had no idea. She had
never seen him like this, and he coldly frightened her.
"Are you happy with Antoine, dear?" he questioned in their
native tongue, his vicious small eyes never ceasing their lewd
undressing of her person.
"O-Of course ... why do you ask, Uncle?"
"I'm concerned. After all, besides Annette, I have no one
else ... with the exception of you, now ... and I regard you of
the greatest importance, Madeleine." His near-twisted smile seemed
affixed to his round face as he came from behind the bar carrying
two drinks. His eyes held her own exotic dark ones levelly,
almost hypnotically, as he moved toward her, one hand bearing the
glass, extended. "I wouldn't want you unhappy, my pet."
Automatically, Madeleine's graceful hand accepted the glass,
but her eyes remained adjoined to his. Additional ripples of
chill trickled up her back. She knew of his reputation, his
ruthless brutality, had even guessed that such tales might be ...
could be true, but she had never dreamed that she, herself, would
ever witness any indication enlightening that part of his
character. Dear God, she thought she was previewing it now ...
but why? Had she done something! Where was Antoine ...?
From the moment he handed her the glass he never stopped
moving closer to her. They were nearly of equal height. She felt
his great middle pressing ever stronger against her, his round,
scarred face closing in on her own. The meaning of the gesture
was beyond her and Madeleine stood her ground, iced fear
stiffening her being. But, then, within that scope of inches, she
saw the blurred visage of his puckering lips swooping in upon her
own, and she realized the affront.
"Uncle Gaston! My God! What're you trying to do ...?"
Her hands, one still holding a glass, came up between them,
rigid at arm's-bent length against his chest. She backed several
feet toward the locked door behind her and gaped at him.
"I was going to kiss you," he hissed, the wild satyrism she
had read in his eyes even more pronounced now. "I'm sure you're
familiar with the act."
"Uncle Gaston ...! I-I just don't ... I don't understand
...! Please ... please, let's go join the others ..."
"Shut up, slut! Shut your fucking mouth!" he spat at her.
Madeleine stared in utter disbelieving, mounting horror at
the squat despot of crime before her ... this man who not only
controlled the vile and vicious underworld, but whose company the
wealthy and famous competed for, while the lewd word he had
blurted at her ricocheted like a giant, depraved, evil omen in her
brain.
"Un-Uncle Gaston ... Wh-What is it ...?"
"Bitch! You stand there, cunt-slut that you are and tell me
you don't understand?" Suddenly, he threw back his vicious head
and laughed, loud and not caring, his teeth glistening in the
light. He stared at her, his evil smile never lessening, then, he
moved closer to her once more. "You've got a kid! You've hid it
out in the home of one Rafael Girarde here in Montreal. A bastard
brat you'd like to forget ... and you dare to marry my Antoine and
pretend? Cunt-slut! That's what you are! Come into my house ...
Me, Gaston Larreau, and put on airs! You pig! What do you think
Antoine would say if he knew? Eh? And you wonder how I know,
don't you, bitch? Well I'll tell you. Your Doctor Carey does
little things for me ... takes a shady bullet out now and then ...
whatever I have for him. But suddenly, he read the papers ...
thought he might have a hot banana, one he could use to raise hush
money, so he dared come to me and spit out the truth."
Madeleine had backed to the door. The czar inched closer
against her. He said: "You know what that information cost me?"
He laughed. "Twenty dollars ... enough for a gallon of booze.
And you know the value of that same information my pet?" Once
more, he laughed ... slowly at first, then, in a rising crescendo.
"You! You, my dear, are the ultimate value of that twenty dollars
so well-spent. You, with your young, voluptuous charms will crawl
to me unless you want me to destroy your world. You will give
yourself entirely to me to do with as I see fit ... otherwise,
I'll completely destroy you not only with Antoine, but wherever
you go. Now ... say something, darling ... say something
intelligent, you luscious creature."
Madeleine stood frozen in mental horror. Her entire body
seemed a part of the door as she pressed backward against it and
stared at the metamorphosis of human into monster before her. She
watched him raise his drink to his lips and sip, and she watched
mesmerized in abject terror and instantaneous hatred, the
salacious leer ever contorting his evil face as inch by inch he
moved in closer to her.
"Oh God! Please ... Uncle Gaston ... My God! You can't tell
Antoine," she pleaded, for nothing else mattered. "Let me! I'll
tell him! I swear it ...!"
"Stupid cunt," Larreau spat and Madeleine cringed at the vile
insult. "What good do you think that'll do, now? The damage is
done. Do you think he would want someone else's bastard child?"
"But you don't understand! She's just a little baby. Stop
calling her those names! Damn you ...!"
Larreau widened his grin. "So ... you do have some spunk,
after all. I ... I was beginning to wonder."
"She's not to blame! She's an innocent baby ...!"
"Shut up! You hear? Shut up, cunt!"
She did, gaping at him. His smile had disintegrated; his
eyes were emblazened with rage. He raised his glass and drained
it, then threw it on the davenport beside him, the ice dribbling
out to wet the expensive cushions, his vile epithets cutting her
to the quick. Heavenly Father, she had never been so abused in
her life. He came next to her and tore the glass from her grasp,
then wound his pudgy, brutal hand in her hair and forced her mouth
to his.
He kissed her! His vicious tongue stabbed at her lips and
she fought it, clenching her teeth until his hand twisted the long
length of her hair, until tears streamed from her eyes and her
mouth gaped from the pain. His tongue, hot and wet, plunged to
her throat and his short arm encircled her waist powerfully,
crushing her to him. He ground his belly overwhelmingly against
hers, his groin tightly against her own soft, tender pelvis, until
she could feel the hardness of his swollen member undulating in a
near-pulverizing motion at the juncture of her full, warm thighs.
Mon Dieu! Antoine! Please ... come quick! I need you! I
need you!
Finally, he eased back from her, smiling as if he had just
brought her great pleasure.
"There now," he said, "Not so bad is it?" He lifted the glass
he had taken from her and drank from it. "Why satisfy yourself
with the parasite when you can have the king, my pet?"
"I-I-I love Antoine."
He drank again. "Love? Humph!" he grunted. "A word ... not
a very meaningful one either. Only an excuse for attachment."
Again, he drank, "Never mind, it isn't important what you think,
or want. It's what I want that counts ... and I want you, my
dear." He backed away and moved in a small circle before her.
"You'll do what I say from here on ... unless you prefer to be
completely destroyed ... along with your illegitimate daughter."
"What are you saying? You ... you wouldn't do anything to
hurt Igat ...?"
"Why not? Bastard kids are born every day. What's one more?
If she or he holds me from getting what I want ... then, it's time
to destroy them."
"My God! My dear God! You're horrid! An unadulterated
monster ...!"
Larreau set down his glass and moved against her once more.
His left hand encircled her small waist while his right darted to
her left breast, encompassing its full, rotund protuberance,
squeezing and kneading, working at its nipple through the several
layers of garments until it stood hard and erect, and in her
helplessness she submitted to him.
"No ... I'm not what you think," he said, letting his hands
trail down her slightly delineated ribs to her hips, then moving
behind her while she stood spellbound, and slipping downward to
envelop her soft, warm, full buttocks in cupping fashion. He
pulled her to him and once more she felt the hard unbelievable
length of him grinding against her pelvis. "I'm human enough.
Trouble is ... you don't know what made me the way I am. It isn't
important, anyway. What's important is that I want you ... and I
know I'm ugly. So ... I have to take you ... to force you. I-I-
I'll make a deal with you. You be 'nice' to me and I'll get your
kid back for you ... make Antoine accept it. I promise, I will.
Girarde is a nothing ... a Ministre of Gouvernment, but a nothing.
I'll get the child, I swear it ... if you're nice to me ..."
"And ... and if I'm not?"
His face changed. Before, when he'd spoken of returning
Igat, he was almost the man she had come to know. But now ...
"I'll completely destroy you and the kid! I swear it! I
take an oath on it!" Once more he grabbed her, clutching her to
him. "Christ! I want you, pet! I'll give you anything ... just
be nice to me. Don't you understand? I've got to have you ...
And then, she felt his small pudgy hand moving down her
outside thigh, brushing up beneath the skirt of her gown along the
nylon-encased column of her smooth, tensed, long leg. Dear God!
What was he going to do? Should she scream ... create a scene?
She was entrapped! His hand felt hot ... repulsively hot against
the frightened, twitching flesh of her thigh, while the other
brazenly cupped at her buttocks, holding her firm, unable to move
away from his insulting hand. Even so, tiny, unwanted prurient
twinges seemed to erupt within her at the attentions of a strange
touch, while simultaneously, she fought the vile idea of his lewd
suggestion.
"Please ... please, Uncle Gaston, don't! Please don't ...!"
"Christ! I've got to. You understand? I've got to have you
...!"
"No ... No! Please ... I understand ... yes, I understand
... really, I do!" she pleaded and babbled, frantically struggling
both physically and mentally, but she was no match for his
strength and her brain refused to function in her fear and shame.
"L-Let's think about it ... tonight, we'll think about it ... Oh
God ...!"
His hand reached and played at the tight, concealed portion
between her legs where only the narrowest, sheerest strip of nylon
protected her secret, sensitive genitals. She felt the knuckle of
his hand press the material of her panties between the soft,
fleshy lips of her vulva as it stroked again and again into the
warm, moistness of her womanhood. She whimpered helplessly.
Mother of God, no woman alive could endure such galvanic touches
at her most delicate parts without knowing sensation, she swore
it. Yet, she was near-overwhelmed with the abasement he was
heaping upon her; it could not go on like this! He had to listen
to reason!
"In heaven's name, Uncle Gaston, you've got to stop! It's
not right! Please ... I-I'll never be able look at you again,
think of Antoine, if not me ..."
"I'm thinking of me, damn you!" he hissed at her. "And I'm
thinking if you want that kid of yours, you better be nice to me,
understand? Nice! Now ... do you want her or not?"
Madeleine wagged her head in confusion. She felt the hot
tears welling onto her cheeks as he continued to stroke tauntingly
at the now trembling, nylon-covered aperture between her legs.
"Well ...?" he rasped.
"Yes ... yes ... you know I do! What would you expect? My
God, I'm her mother! I want my baby ..."
"And you'll do anything to get her back?"
"... Yes ... anything ... I'll do anything! My God ... oh,
my little Igat ..."
Suddenly, his colorless eyes glowed as if they had been
dipped in Satan's fire and he hauled her closer to him, his thick
middle-finger slipping inside her elastic panty-leg to ease slowly
between the fleshy-fringed lips of her now moistened pussy, moving
downward through the velvety, pink slit toward the small quivering
vaginal mouth ... then, worming up into her ... ever upward inside
her warm, snug channel. She gaped at him during the inserting
process ... gaped and gasped in revulsive, helpless humiliation as
she felt his thick finger sliding possessively further up into her
while she stood as if frozen in horrified disbelief ... and then
his thumb began to massage the tiny, soon-erected bud of her
clitoris maddeningly. She jerked then, bodily against him,
causing her buttocks to spasm and circulate uncontrollably in his
other hand, and he said: "I'm going to give you an address and you
come there tomorrow. It's downtown ... my special apartment. You
fail me, pet ... and both of you will pay ... you and the kid ...
understand?"
Madeleine tried to answer, but her words bunched in her
throat from the unwanted shocking spasms he was causing at her
loins, and she could only nod her head jerkingly. Finally, she
managed: "I-I under ... stand."
Larreau laughed. "Good," he said. "But in the meantime ...
I want to play with this ... this delightful little cunt of yours,
pet."
Madeleine moaned pathetically, at the same time cringing as
she sensed his thick finger move further up into her, while his
use of the lewd, foul word caused strange, if, undesirable
sensations to soar through her quivering body.
"Oh ... Oh, please ... can't we wait?" she heard herself
whine, and even as she spoke she realized in self-abomination that
she was moving sensuously upon his penetrating finger, making
involuntary, pelvic motions as his finger reached and taunted the
snail-like mouth of her womb.
"Oh God!" she blurted for the hundredth time.
"It feels good, doesn't it, pet?" Larreau tormented. "You
wish to God it didn't, but you can't help yourself, eh? And how
would you like to have a nice thick cock right up inside that
little cunt at this moment ... filling that round little belly ...
shooting its hot load into you, eh? You'd like that ... but you
wouldn't admit it, would you ... you hot little bitch ... All
right ... I'll wait until tomorrow ... I want to be sure there'll
be no interruptions when I fuck you, pet ... no interruptions
whatever ... understand?"
"Y-Y-Yes ... anything you say ..."
"And now, you belong to me ... is that clear?"
Madeleine managed to nod affirmatively. Then, she said: "And
... and you promise about Igat?"
"Sure ... sure, I promise."
"S-She's my baby ... I'll do anything to get her back ... You
realize that, don't you?"
"Of course," he said, his thick finger worming around in and
out of her damp, dilated passage now.
"And ... and you'll help me ... even with making Antoine
understand?" she stammered.
"I told you I would, didn't I?"
"Oh ... yes ... Oh God ..." she gasped, as vile, tingling
sensations began to spread throughout her whole body.
"Damn!" he hissed, pushing his mouth against hers, his open
lips engulfing her soft, wet ones, and then slowly he withdrew his
finger from her vagina and she whimpered in the confused,
unfulfilled passion he had aroused in her unwanting body. Dear
God in heaven, she had to get out of here and think! Merciful
Mother, what was she going to do now?
And a wicked spasm trembled Gaston Larreau's coarse body.
Chapter 2
Antoine Poirier was delighted with the way Uncle Gaston had
taken to his Madeleine from the very beginning, immediately
accepting her and making her feel as one of the family. He was
worried for fear that it would not go that way at all. Madeleine
not being of the select social class from which his benefactor had
insisted he choose a wife when that time came; in fact, hers could
hardly be called even the lower middle class, her father being
nothing more than a fisherman. It hadn't been an act of defiance
on his part, for Lord knows, he felt greatly indebted to this man
who had taken him in following the brutal death of his parents,
treating him as he might his own son, had there been one, even to
giving him the finest of education at McGill University; no, it
had simply been love ... of the head-over-heels variety, and upon
first sight at that; then, Uncle Gaston had amazed him by
understanding.
Antoine had found her in a small restaurant where she waited
on table and where he took lunch only occasionally, until that
day. The rest was inevitable, for as she had told him some two
weeks later when he asked her to become his wife, she had loved
him from the first moment she saw him. Her lack of formal
education, or the fact that she came from poor peasant stock,
nothing could have been of less importance to him; her exotic
beauty stunned him; she had only to smile that first time and he
was completely lost. Even Annette ... snippy, audacious,
envenomed Annette ... even she had taken to her immediately, and
from the first moment Uncle Gaston had laid eyes on her he had
done little more than smile his pleasure.
Of course, the proof of Uncle Gaston's acceptance had come
when he'd asked Madeleine to act as family hostess at these Friday
night affairs, and he, Antoine, could barely contain his own
elation ... even now, as he watched her graceful movements beside
his Uncle, the powerful little man holding affectionately to her
hand, and the manner in which she conducted herself in the
presence of Montreal's most elite ... as if she had been born to
it ... filled him with pride and love. God, if only he didn't
have this other worry, he thought.
Uncle Gaston had assured him a dozen times that there was
nothing to get upset about, but just the idea of Ottawa sending
officials over to look at the company books and records had upset
him considerably. He couldn't help it; after all, Galaxy Mining,
Ltd. was his responsibility, and because Uncle Gaston had
entrusted him with its helm he felt more accountable than ever.
He had worried himself to the point where he could hardly sleep
nights, and of course, the whole thing was having an effect on his
and Madeleine's personal lives. Their love-making had become
little more than a series of abortive attempts at sex on his part,
filling his Madeleine with unsated frustrations, he felt certain,
and God Almighty, he didn't know what to do about it.
She was such a vibrant, voluptuous creature; he had only to
look at her even in her clothes to feel immediate stimulation and
a stirring at his loins, but to enjoy the enchanting vision of her
magnificent young body in the rich splendor of nakedness was
enough to set him off like a rutting bull. It seemed at those
times he had no control whatever over himself, that nothing
mattered only plunging his aching penis into her tantalizing flesh
and emptying his life-giving sperm into her. He just couldn't
seem to contain his lust, even though he invariably hated himself
after and would sincerely vow that it would be different next time
... yet, wonderful, loving person that she was, she would smile
understandingly and forgive him. Nevertheless, he felt certain
that his constant failures were straining their yet-to-be-seasoned
relationship and he laid the whole damned mess to this Ottawa
investigation business ... whatever that was all about.
Now, as he watched them moving among the guests, Madeleine
looked his way and smiled. A warmth crept over him and he
responded with a slight pursing of his lips that she would
understand ... a symbolic kiss. It was at that moment that Ginny
Novak joined him, taking his arm fondly and brushing one soft,
full breast against it.
"Darling, I've been looking for you," she said for greeting,
smiling radiantly up into his face.
"Really? I've been right here," he said, always aroused by
the suggestive tiny lights that seemed to be forever dancing in
her sea-green eyes. As always, she'd had a bit too much to drink
and her attractive face reflected it in the slackness about her
wide, full mouth and the slight glaze to her eyes. Her usually
upswept, perfectly coiffured blonde-hair showed tattle-tale wild
strands also, and when she spoke there was just the hint of
thickness to her tongue.
"I've been in the playroom sampling the bourbon," she said,
giving his arm a little squeeze and once pressing her full, ripe
breast against him. "I was hoping you might wander back and
sample some with me. We might even've gotten into a game of
billiards ... or something."
Antoine smiled. Her words, her gestures, her every move was
suggestive of sex, and had been since the first day she had walked
into this house on the arm of Uncle Gaston better than a year ago,
replacing his former mistress. Her capacity had been obvious, her
duties nil ... except to cater to the master's personal and
private needs ... whatever they might be. Antoine only knew that
he didn't blame his Uncle; after all, he was human and Aunt
Yolande had been ill for at least a dozen years; a man had to have
a woman, and Ginny Novak was very much that.
He, himself, had never touched her sexually ... had hardly
ever laid a hand upon her, but in all honesty he had wanted to
many times, and from her actions ... just the way she would hang
onto him, or brush her breasts against him teasingly as she was
doing right at that moment, he felt certain that she would be
receptive. But once again, his loyalty to the man who had
befriended and raised him would never permit him to commit such an
act. Ginny Novak was his uncle's toy, and although Antoine too-
often could barely tolerate the little man's cruel and abusive
treatment of her in public, he bit his lip and kept his place.
After all, if she didn't like it, she could always go back to the
States where she came from.
Now, as he watched her, she looked about the room until her
eyes found what they sought.
"Ah, so there the little czar is," she said with obvious
distaste. "And with your Madeleine, of course."
"Of course ...? Why do you say it like that?" Antoine
questioned, her derisive tone provoking him.
"Did I say it wrong? I'm sorry, Darling. Probably just the
natural, unrefined farmer coming out in me. Nothing more crude
than a half-drunk, corn-fed girl, they say."
Antoine grinned and she moved around until her back was to
Uncle Gaston and Madeleine, then he saw the almost immediate,
serious expression that sobered her attractive face. It surprised
and puzzled him simultaneously.
"What is it?" he heard himself question. "Is something
wrong, Ginny?"
"We must go someplace where we can talk," she replied in a
voice above a whisper. "It's terribly important to you, Antoine
..."
"What is it?"
"We can't discuss it here," she insisted, "too dangerous."
"But ... I don't understand ..."
"Wait ..." she said, turning slowly, her loose little smile
returning once more as she pretended to look dazedly across the
room. Then, he felt her hand tightening on his arm, and she said:
"Look, they're leaving the room ... now we can slip out ..."
Antoine watched his Uncle leading Madeleine toward the
central hall and felt a moment of confusion. "Where the devil are
they going?"
"Probably to the front sitting room," Ginny lied. "There're
some guests in there, too. Please, now come with me."
She gave him little chance to refuse, ushering him by the arm
through the doorway that led to the servants' corridor and back
toward the playroom.
"Look, Ginny ... I don't understand," Antoine said,
resisting, but not enough to slow her anxious pace. "What's so
damned important that we couldn't talk about it back there?"
"Plenty, Darling," she half-whispered as they entered the
near-darkened playroom and she closed the door quietly behind
them. "In fact, I'm not going to tell it all to you here, either.
It's too dangerous ... could even mean my neck ..."
"Your neck? Good God, what're you trying to say, girl?" he
snapped, his accent broadening his English in irritation.
Ginny Novak eased in close to him, both hands suddenly
clutching at the muscles of his arms. She looked up into his
face, her own expression one of taut seriousness. "Listen to me,"
she almost hissed, her lovely eyes probing the depths of his own
irked and questioning ones, "that filthy uncle of yours is working
at hanging you. And unless you do something about it awfully
damned quick, it's going to be too late."
"Wh-What? Look ... what the hell are you talking about,
anyway?" Antoine rapped, angrily trying to shed her hands from his
arms. "Is that what you brought me back here for? To malign
Uncle Gaston? Christ, what kind of girl are you? You sleep with
him, eat his food, drink his liquor ... and too damned much of
that by the way you're talking ..."
"Stop it!" she hissed vehemently. "Stop and listen to me you
stupid, naive idiot! Galaxy Mining, Ltd. is in trouble with the
government. I overheard a conversation between Gaston and his
attorney, Robert Jovell, this afternoon on the telephone. I heard
Gaston say something to the effect that he'd been expecting it ...
it had to come sooner or later, but that he wasn't worried, they
couldn't touch him ... the whole operation was in your name! Now
... do you still think I'm trying to malign that noble bastard?"
Antoine was stunned. He stared down at her, hardly seeing
her. Of course, it was all ridiculous. Either she had
misinterpreted whatever it was she'd heard, or she was making the
whole thing up for reasons of her own. Certainly, Uncle Gaston
would never do anything that would reflect on him, Antoine, let
alone making him some sort of scapegoat that might wind him up in
prison. The whole idea was preposterous!
"I-I don't know what you're trying to do," he spat at her,
"but whatever it is you're wasting your time. My advice is that
you lay off the liquor and get yourself out of here as soon as you
can. It looks to me like you've overstayed your welcome."
With that, he tried to get around her, but she quickly backed
to the door and stood against it, momentarily preventing his
leaving. Her usual dancing, suggestive eyes narrowed in her own
anger, and although the scintillating lights continued to enliven
them, they were now tiny explosions of rage.
"You are a stupid ass, Antoine Poirier! I don't know why in
hell I should be putting my head on the chopping block for you ...
but here I am! Now you listen to me, damn you; what I've told you
is truth! You can do whatever you want about it, I don't care.
This much I can tell you, that little gargoyle you call 'uncle' is
a vile monster, and he doesn't care anymore about you than he does
one of his lovely prostitutes who has to kick in a third of her
earnings so that he can live in the style he's become accustomed
to. And as far as overstaying my welcome, M'sieu', I'd be out of
here in two minutes if I dared ... but you know what would happen
to me if I tried? I'd be dead! That's right, dead!" Suddenly, a
mean little smile stretched her pretty mouth. "I hope to God you
don't think I'm here because I want to be? You'd have to be out
of your mind to believe that. I'm here because that foul bastard
won me in a poker game from a stateside hood just like him ... a
gambler named Lou "The Ace" Fennell ... and you don't run away
from their kind of scum ... you merely deteriorate into a common
whore to provide their bread and butter when they're finished with
you ... or you kill yourself ... You pays your money, and you
takes your choice."
Antoine stared at her as if his eyes were glued upon her
paled, anger-lined face. Every word she spoke had registered, and
abruptly, he realized her sincerity. Whether there was any
accuracy in what she had said pertaining to Galaxy Mining and
Uncle Gaston abandoning him, was still questionable in his mind,
but her own position, he suddenly found himself not doubting for a
moment. Almost instantly, his heart went out to her, and when he
saw the little tears trickling down her cheeks he couldn't help
himself. He opened his arms and she burst inside them with a sob.
"There, there," he whispered into her ear as she cried
against his chest, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils as
she clung to him and he held her, smoothing his hand down her
back, caressing the silken material of her gown to feel the soft
flesh and indentation of her barely perceptible spine beneath.
Her full, pointed breasts dug into his chest, while the little
round bowl of her belly rested snugly beneath his own, and as he
held her, she inched tighter against him until her warm, full
thighs clung tightly to his hard, lean ones, and her pelvis and
belly ground against, and shared the length of his stiffening
cock.
She raised her face to him then, her wet full mouth falling
open ... and he kissed her. Her arms encircled his neck and her
mouth clung to his hungrily. Almost subconsciously, his tongue
slid between her opened lips and teeth and she softly began to
suck on it, drawing it deeper and deeper into the warm moist
cavern toward her throat as her soft, vibrant loins began to
rotate against his already throbbing prick in tiny little
stimulating circles. He gasped into her mouth, his long, sinewy
hands dropping to cup at her soft, yet firm, hollowing buttocks so
full and round in his grasp, and she pressed even tighter against
him.
Eventually, they separated for a breath, and he said: "I-I
didn't know, Cheri .... I-I had no idea why you stayed with him
... the way he treated you ... I used to wonder why you put up
with it ... God ... I've wanted you so bad a thousand times ..."
She whimpered at his words and he felt the vibrations of
sound against him more than he heard it. Her mouth searched for
his and he kissed her again, this time, tasting the deliciousness
of her tiny tongue as it darted forward between his lips.
"Oh Darling," she hissed, "we must make love. I've wanted
you for so long, too. But we have to be careful. He'd kill us if
he found out."
"He won't find out ... nobody but you and I will know,"
Antoine assured her, his hands caressing and stroking her back and
buttocks covetously now, the soft, warm resilience of her flesh
causing his hardening penis to throb vigorously between them.
"I can feel you so hot and hard and excited against me," she
whispered. "God, how I'd love to take it out right here ... right
now, and suck it until it pumped its love sperm down my throat."
"Christ! Don't talk that way or I'll come right in my
pants," he smiled, but said in a harsh, whispering voice. "I want
those things too, but we have to find a place. We can't do
anything here ..."
"I know," she interrupted excitedly. "The summer house at
Ste. Agathe des Monts. We can go there ... tomorrow, Darling."
He thought about it briefly. It seemed safe enough. Uncle
Gaston wouldn't be opening it for a mouth ... not until July. The
idea intrigued him. Christ, he had to have her now, after this;
there was no turning away from it any longer. He had to fuck her!
"All right. Tomorrow around two. I'll meet you there,
Cheri. Are you sure you can get away without suspicion?"
"Yes, I'm certain of it ... but it wouldn't make any
difference. I'd come to make love to you even if I had to bring
an audience."
"Damn!" he gasped, and kissed her once more.
Then, she eased back away from him and he read the concerned
expression on her face. "Please, Darling," she whispered. "You
must listen to what I've told you. Galaxy Mines is in great
danger ... and that puts you in great danger. I don't know to
what extent but maybe I'll hear more tonight and be able to tell
you tomorrow."
"I'm not worried about that," he lied. "I'm more concerned
about how I'm going to get you away from all this."
"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. What's
important is that you take care of Madeleine and yourself. I know
this evil man better than you, Darling. I know him at his vilest,
bedroom self ... and that's where you really come to know a man's
mettle."
"But I can't believe he would do anything to hurt me. I-It's
just impossible to believe. I mean, after all, I'm like his own
son ..."
"Oh Darling, please ... You must try to understand the type
of man he is," she almost begged him. "I realize why you've
closed your eyes to these things ... because he has been like a
father to you. But in God's name, don't blind yourself entirely.
He's the warlord over crime in Canada ... and you must know about
his connections with the syndicate ..."
"Yes, yes, I know all of that," Antoine replied, not looking
at her now as he fished out a cigarette and lighted it. Then,
suddenly looking at her, he said: "But I'm not just a ... a
relative to him ... I'm like his very own flesh and blood. He's
raised me, Cheri, clothed, fed and educated me. No, Christ, I
can't believe it! He just couldn't do anything to hurt me ..."
"Unless ..." she whispered.
"Unless? Unless what?"
"Unless ... it becomes a matter of your neck ... or his ..."
She reached him at that point. Antoine stood very still and
dragged at his cigarette. In his mind, he was endeavoring to
evaluate Galaxy's situation. It occurred to him that he had never
actually seen the mines in Alberta or the Yukon; Uncle Gaston had
not thought that necessary. His task was to see that the ever-
increasing stockholders received favorable dividends and that the
Board of Directors met once a month, with quarterly reports being
sent out on the day to all investors. Should there ever be a
shortage of cash to meet dividend payments, he was to immediately
report it to his Uncle so that whatever the deficit might be it
could be made up. Investors don't like to be informed of non-
dividend quarters, Antoine, he'd said to him once. So, even if it
hurts, and we have to take it from other enterprises, we'll keep
them happy, eh?
He questioned the illegality of it then, but the powerful
little man had merely laughed.
Don't you worry about illegality, young man. That's my
department. You just take care of board meetings and that cute
little wife of yours, eh? She looks to me as if she might require
lots of loving.
And then, he'd laughed, vulgarly, a little too vulgarly,
Antoine had thought, biting his own tongue to keep from saying
something he might later be sorry for ...
"Darling ... do you understand what I've been trying to tell
you?" Ginny questioned, moving close to him once more.
"I-I ... I've got to think," he said, walking to a table and
stubbing out his cigarette.
"About me?"
He went to her quickly, enfolding her into his arms once
more. "Hell no ... not about you, Cheri. You've haunted my mind
for a year now." He kissed her. "Look, we have to get out of here
... get back to the party before we're missed."
"Yes, I know. Tomorrow then ... at the summer place?"
"At the summer place ... I wouldn't miss it for anything in
the world."
"Oh ... Oh Darling," she moaned, kissing him a last time. "I
wish I was twenty-one instead of twenty-nine ... I wish I'd never
known a man before you ..."
"Funny," he said, grinning down at her, "I'm glad that you're
twenty-nine ... and more happy that you've known other men. Now,
I'm going to get the benefit of all that experience ... and it
better be good."
"Whatever it is, it'll be for you and you alone."
"We'll see," he teased.
"Yes," she whispered, "we'll see ..."
Chapter 3
Madeleine could not sleep. She lay restless in the large bed
of their expensive Ville de Hampstead apartment, waiting for
Antoine to join her. He had wanted a nightcap, but she had been
too upset and had gone straight to bed. Now, she could hear the
soft music from the tape-deck and visualized him sitting in his
favorite chair with his feet up on the ottoman, comfortably
stretched out and leisurely enjoying a scotch ... entertaining no
idea in this world of the abhorrent secret she must now live with.
Her brain whirled in her still-shamed, utter debasement.
Again, she had failed this proud young man she loved so much, and
this time, there could be no forgiveness. If only she had told
him of Igat in the beginning, bared her soul to him ... made a
clean breast of it. He'd loved her ... would probably have
understood, but now ... it was too late. Dear God, how could she
tell him now without laying the whole sordid story before him ...
yes, even the way Uncle Gaston had forced his salacious attentions
on her? She couldn't, not without revealing the whole despicable
truth. Yet, if she didn't turn to her Antoine for help, where
could she go?
There had been time to think since leaving the party, and
once out of Larreau's horrible, dominating presence, Madeleine
realized she could not keep their wicked appointment the next day;
she just couldn't give herself to that foul beast ... yet, if she
didn't, he had threatened to bring harm to both Igat and herself.
She didn't care about herself ... but her baby ... her baby meant
more than anything in the whole world.
Dear Antoine ... Antoine ... please come and help me? I need
you so badly. Help me tell you my dreaded secret this very night
... Be understanding ... forgiving ... and take us away from here
before some terrible thing happens to all of us through that evil
man.
Quietly, Madeleine prayed for guidance and strength while she
awaited the moment Antoine would join her. She must tell him
about Igat ... she must! Perhaps she should hold back the horrid
secret of Uncle Gaston's outrageous act, for to tell Antoine that
would only serve to rile the troubled waters even more so.
Certainly, it could serve no other purpose than to arouse hatred
... even vengeance of some nature, and God knows, she didn't want
to strain their relationship any more than it was at this time,
when they were yet to truly know each other, in love.
Once more, she began to toss restlessly on the bed. Why
didn't he come now? At this moment she felt certain she could
tell everything from the very beginning and make him realize.
Yes, she would even tell him about M. Keel, the first iniquitous
brute to bring her heartbreak. It was the only way ... recount it
all in full ... everything and pray to God that he would try to
understand.
Now, as she waited, her mind began to fill with unwanted
memories, and she recalled how she had run away in the night from
Mont Du Bane, the small fishing village of her birth on the
Peninsule De Gaspe, escaping, she had felt, with the American
named Keel, a salesman who passed that way twice a year to sell
goods to M. Bidette, le Garde-Magasin.
Four years ago, she remembered, but the bitter reveries were
as vivid in her mind as if they had taken place yesterday. She
had been sixteen, nearly seventeen, the fourth of nine children
and by far the prettier of her three sisters, she knew. She
recalled that even at twelve, when she had begun to develop her
pubescent charms, the opposite sex had always been strongly
attracted to her, especially the older men, and she had been
pleased, taking pride in her long black hair and the hygiene of
her teeth, realizing that if she were ever to be liberated from
the destined weary bondage of becoming a fisherman's wife, these
were the assets upon which she would have to trade.
The day she had met the American she was physically ripe, a
sensually alluring young woman, while he was somewhere in his
aging fifties. She had only to smile at him coquettishly to see
his small eyes come alive with lecherous excitement, and as she
tripped provocatively from M. Bidette's store she felt certain he
would follow.
It was difficult to remember all the little lurid details
now, even, difficult to recall his features ... only a faceless,
grey-haired, fat man ... taller and bigger than Uncle Gaston in
every respect, but certainly his parallel in villainy, she
realized now. And how upset she'd been at first when she decided
that he wasn't going to follow her, but by the time she'd reached
the edge of the village he had come along in his car and offered
her a ride.
She hadn't hesitated; instead, she'd climbed in and began an
immediate conversation. He spoke French, which had made it that
much easier for her to play the flirt with him, and when he'd
reached over placing his big, heavy, hair-covered hand on her knee
she had pretended at being excitedly flustered, while in truth her
flesh had recoiled at his touch and she'd winced repugnantly
within her flat little belly.
"N-Not here ... not here," she'd insisted, catching at his
hand and noticing the obscene bulge to the front of his trousers
where his pumpkinlike stomach adjoined his groin. "There's no
place here where we won't be seen ..."
"Where, then?" he'd rasped, his licentious, bloodshot eyes
raking her young curvaceous body hungrily.
"There's no safe place around here," she'd answered him
quickly. "And if we were caught my father would kill you ..."
Suddenly, he'd pulled off to the side of the dirtroad, his
arms enveloping her and his thick lips engulfing hers, wetly,
voraciously, sucking her small mouth into his own like a vacuum
cleaner. She'd tried to struggle, but his surprise lunge had
caused a frightened wave of dizziness to overwhelm her and
momentarily she'd thought she would faint. He'd held her so tight
that the breath had rushed out of her, and even now she could not
remember whether he was deceivingly strong, or she unexplainably
weak. His tongue had burst into her mouth like a slimy, wet eel,
exploring, brushing obscenely around the inside. She had been
nearly overcome with his odor of sweat and cologne, and his
massive anomalous body easily subdued her own.
"No, no, no!" she'd insisted. "Let me go ... Later! Later!"
She'd fought him furiously, until at last, he'd seemed to
regain control of himself and listen.
"What ... later? What'd you mean?" he grunted, breathing
heavily into her face.
She had bit at her lower lip. "I want you to take me away
with you."
He'd stared at her. "Away with me ...?"
"Yes. I want to go to Boston. If you'll take me with you
... then ... then I'll let you ... do things to me."
He had continued to gape at her, his hungry, red-rimmed eyes
growing more gluttonous with lust at each passing second. "All
right ... all right, tonight. We'll go tonight," he'd said,
perspiration dribbling down his heavy jowls. "Yes, by God ...
tonight!"
She would have done anything to get away from the decaying
hovel of her parents, the absurd poverty of the village, and the
inevitable arranged marriage to come. God, she remembered, she
had only to look upon the drudge who was her mother, a woman
unbelievably aged beyond her thirty-five years to find
justification in the way she had run off.
Keel had told her he was not married; she hadn't believed
him. Anyway, that had been unimportant; all that mattered was
getting to Boston where she could meet a nice American boy and
marry him. How many nights she'd dreamed such fantasies ... a
pretty little house with flowers around it, an automobile of their
own, and perhaps one, two, even three babies, depending, of
course, upon what her husband would want; and a wardrobe of three
or four plain dresses, with as many beautiful ones for best ...
for this was the way with American husbands, she'd been certain,
having seen the pictures and read of their love and generosity in
the old copies of magazines Docteur Laprise kept in his waiting
room.
So, she'd left the note to her mother, saying little except
that she was sorry, and that one day she would return to make them
all proud of her ... and Grace a Dieu for M. Keel, for she wanted
her parents to believe that he was a noble man doing this for her
out of the goodness of his heart.
A noble man ... indeed ... Yet, at first, he'd been extremely
kind, performing all the simple things to please her, taking her
into restaurants where they were served hot-beef sandwiches after
the soup-of-the-day, then little pastries for dessert. She had
never known such luxury, and before the first day was over she had
convinced herself that she'd misjudged him, and vowed not to show
the slightest sign of offense when he put his big hand on her
thigh outside her dress as they drove along, or when he playfully
squeezed and fondled her firm young breasts at every opportunity
... but she shortly had learned that her first opinion was very
much correct. M. Keel was a vile brute!
However, she recalled now, that before ever realizing the
extent of his evilness, she'd convinced herself to willingly carry
out her part of their bargain. A girl had to be prepared to pay a
price for such an extravagant life as she sought ... an American
husband ... living in the States ... and all of the little
luxuries that were actually considered necessities in that great
country ... besides, it was not as if she had never known Jean
Louis Blanchette, son of the avocat who had lived upon the hill
and who was betrothed to Docteur Laprise's daughter, Francine.
Jean Louis had punched away her virginity with his stubby little
penis, and together they had discovered many exciting things in
the ways of love, but with him it had been so titillating and
romantic, while Keel had made her nausee even with the numbing of
the wine ...
He had registered them into a seedy motel at Riviere du Loup
even before the sun had set ... had bought wine and poured into
the cloudy tumblers that set in a tray on the scarred bureau
before removing his coat. Then, he'd smiled and said: "Take off
your things, my dear. This is home."
She'd made a tight little smile of her own in response and
removed her coat obediently while he took it to hang in the open
closet. He ogled her then, in the ruffled and ribboned pink-
gingham dress her mother had made for her, licking at his lips,
the gentleness she had seen earlier abruptly gone from his eyes,
leaving only exigent lust which had added even more ugliness to
his carnal face.
At that moment she had wanted to get away from him, at least
temporarily, and she'd walked past him toward the tiny bathroom.
He came up behind her before she could reach the door, putting
both hands on her firm, young buttocks. She'd frozen, sucking in
a short breath.
"Lovely," he'd murmured. "You're a lovely piece, Baby." His
hands had moved over her bottom and hips, around to her belly and
upward to cup her lush, erect breasts. He pulled her back against
him until she could feel the flab of his stomach and the hardness
of his shaft grinding into the crevice between her round, full
buttocks. She steeled herself, not resisting, until finally he'd
let free of her, stepping back away. "Well ... go ahead and
piddle. Then we'll have a little drinkie before we ... ah ...
tumble into bed, eh?"
Laying there in the semi-darkness, Madeleine felt a slight
tremor ripple over her as it had at his offensive, intimate touch
all those years before, and graphically she began to recall even
the most odious minute details ... it was almost as if she could
feel his depraved hands on her at that moment ...
She stood there, subjected to his coarse explorations, his
suggestive words racing wildly through her brain and she trembled,
a convulsive shudder traversing the length of her soft, young
body, from the tips of her toes to the very peak of her scalp.
She looked toward the sagging bed, swallowing with difficulty.
There was no longer any dubious mystery in her mind of what was to
come ... no overshadowing ambiguity. Upon this bed it would
happen to her, and she would be forced to endure his obese
loathsomeness. Abruptly, the rays of the setting sun caught her
eyes through the window and the thought of escape briefly rushed
to mind ... but she fought it and went on into the bathroom. She
must get to Boston.
When she returned, he held forth her glass of wine and she
took it.
"You drink wine at home, eh?" He grinned. "You Canucks like
your wine ... I know about that."
Madeleine didn't answer him. The fact was, they were allowed
only small amounts with meals, but she saw no reason to tell him
this ... or anything. She took a long swallow, hoping its effect
would be to soothe, even dull her senses for what was to come.
"Go ahead, drink up," Keel said. "Have all you want: it's
good for you." She watched his grin twist crookedly. "Makes you
sexy, too ... and we want that, don't we, Baby?"
Madeleine felt her face flushing. She watched him gulp away
his entire glassful, then tilted her own to her lips. He nodded
approvingly and filled the tumblers once more; then, as she stared
half-fascinated, he began removing his clothes as if the act was
completely divorced from her.
He turned to her suddenly. "Well ...? Want me to strip you,
myself?"
She hadn't stopped trembling, but she managed to shake her
head, set down her wine and unfasten the snaps behind at her neck,
then, firming her lips determinedly, wriggled the dress from her
shoulders, down over her full, rounded young hips and stepped out
of it. Immediately, she sensed his eyes greedily feeding upon her
but she dare not look at him lest she break in a mad flight for
the door. Instead, she automatically lifted her slip over her
head, picked up her dress and laid them over the one chair in the
room. She felt embarrassingly naked before him, even though she
was still strategically covered with her panties, garter belt, bra
and the only pair of nylons she had ever owned.
The wine took its initial effect then, producing a wave of
light-headedness. She glanced at Keel; he was naked, removing his
socks. His body was as massive and gross as his face, his
jaundice-hued flesh sagging and wet with perspiration, causing him
to glisten before her. Then, she saw it ... his thick penis ...
rigid and standing out from beneath the hanging bulk of his flabby
belly, surrounded by a heavy growth of greying pubic hair. Once
more, she trembled in revulsion as she stared at him, the thought
of his fat body upon her own sending waves of fear and abhorrence
through her. The mere thought ...! My God! She couldn't do it!
She simply couldn't!
Keel arose and faced her. His mouth had fallen open with a
certain slackness, his lecherous eyes seeming to bug as he gaped
wildly at her long, nylon-encased legs, the area of cream-white
thigh above, the full, firm breasts causing delicious dunes of
smooth, satin flesh above their tight cup-shaped enclosures, the
area of milk-white midriff, the long sensuous contour of her hips
... Madeleine's eyes widened in shocked disbelief as he broke into
a slow, salacious leer and his hand moved downward and began to
lewdly stroke the heavy uncircumcised foreskin of his massive
shaft back and forth over its hard, blood-filled head.
"Ever see anything like that, Baby?" he taunted in vulgar
pride. "Can you imagine how nice it's going to feel when I shove
it up into that tight little hole of yours ...?"
The depraved spectacle coupled with lascivious words
nauseated her and she gasped at him: "I can't! My God, I can't,
M'sieu'! I just can't do it ...!"
He continued to stare at her, his stiff, fleshy rod in his
hand, his red-saucered eyes narrowing dangerously. "What the hell
do you mean?" he half-growled at her. "Forgetting our bargain,
ain't you, Baby?"
Madeleine took a step backwards and he moved toward her, his
eyes suddenly seeming vacant of anything human ... only lust,
evil, cruel and unyielding.
"N-No ... please, M'sieu' Keel?" she stammered in accented
English. "Please ... I can't do it ... I mean it ..! I-I thought
I could, but I can't. Listen ... I'll leave ... catch the bus
back to Mont Du Banc ..."
"The fuck you will, baby. That li'l pussy of yours is mine
tonight!" he spat at her, his hands reaching out and clutching her
to him, his mouth coming down savagely upon her own as he had done
the day before in his car, thick, wet tongue bursting between her
lips furiously.
Madeleine struggled but he easily pressed her with him toward
the bed. It was almost as if they were one individual, his great
body seeming to move with her, rather than opposing her frantic
efforts, leaving her nothing absolute to fight against. A
frenzied panic seized at her belly and she felt herself beginning
to tremble uncontrollably; the room carrouseled before her and all
of a sudden she was staring upward at the ceiling ... and it was
coming down to meet her, his wicked, lust-filled eyes joining it
fiendishly. She fought him, turning her face away, her strength
quickly ebbing in futile desperation. His tremendous weight
poured over her amorphously and her remaining clothes were being
stripped away, while the huge, shapeless bulk crushing the breath
from her emitted strange animal-like noises, until at last, she
was completely naked.
He raised up off her then, having securely wedged himself
between her forced-apart thighs and she saw him kneeling erect,
his face twisted in a lewd, almost brutal grin. He said something
that didn't register in her fear-stricken brain, as her eyes
trailed down his repulsive torso to the ugly, long, thick penis
jutting forth angrily from his hair-covered loins. She saw the
heavy, wrinkled sac hanging beneath it and further repugnance
gripped at her belly.
"Now ... I'm going to fuck the livin' shit out of you, Baby
... just the way you led me to believe you wanted it," he hissed
down at her.
Madeleine couldn't speak ... could barely breathe in her
horror and shame; instead, she gaped up at him, too awe stricken
to cry, engulfed suddenly by an overpowering sense of miserable
degradation, the sight of her own naked young body spread
obscenely beneath him filling her with a debasement that would
live with her forever, and the helplessness of her situation
screamed in her wine-fogged mind as she realized he was actually
enjoying this wicked defilement he was subjecting her helpless
body to, the cruel gleam ever-growing in his eyes bordering on
sadism.
Until that moment, she had given no thought to the physical
aspects of the coupling itself, but now a new, and acute, sense of
terror came alive as she watched him on his knees before her, once
more stroking himself. Her eyes locked on the fleshy instrument
he was holding in his big hand. Its thickness was beyond belief.
The size of a man's organ had never occurred to her before in her
young life; there had been no reason for any such forbidden
concern ... but suddenly the realization of her own small size in
comparison to his huge thing struck her. Dear God! It would
split her apart ... tear her horribly! She could never take that
inside her, she knew ... she'd examined herself that close before
...!
"Does it frighten you, Baby?" he leered at her, continuing to
fondle and massage the vile looking blunt spear of rigid flesh,
working the heavy outer layer of skin to-and-fro, exposing its
smooth, bulbous head, only to sheath it once more, then repeat the
lewd act. "Well, don't let it ... 'cause this cock's going to
bring you more pleasure than you've ever had in your life, eh?"
He went on tormenting her, gloatingly watching the distressed
expressions of fear contorting her beautiful young face, and at
last Madeleine felt the hot tears dribbling down the sides of her
cheeks as she realized that there was no mercy to appeal to in
this man ... and dear God, she had brought it all upon herself.
She hardly heard his filthy utterances anymore; at first, his foul
use of all those vile four-letter words that she had barely, if
ever heard spoken in forbidden whispers or dirty little stories
from girls her own age, had near-sickened her, but now her mind
was too occupied with the hopelessness of her position and the
horrifying terror of knowing there was no escape for her ... he
was going to ravish her defenseless, near-chaste body no matter
how she pleaded with him not to. God Almighty, there was nowhere
to turn ... she was alone and completely at his mercy ...!
She rolled her head away from him and her heart pounded in
her chest as she lay too petrified to move, her soft white thighs
wide under him, her pink, thin vaginal slit fringed so lightly
with its soft, raven hair, delicately splitting the pouting
flanges of her completely exposed crotch that was helplessly
available to his slightest whim. Her belly quaked in her fear, as
though he had already forced the long, thick penis jutting out
from his aged, hairy loins into the painful depths of her. The
mere thought again sent a tremor of sheer horror to register in
her brain, not only for the unforgivable sin itself, but from the
agonizing, anticipated suffering the inhuman organ was bound to
cause her.
She lay seemingly rooted to the mattress beneath, her shame
and humiliation complete, as she watched in frozen trepidation the
slow, decisive movements of his hands toward her vulnerable
genitals; he placed his thumbs to rest on the soft, fleshy lips of
her pussy and torturously drew them apart, laying open her moist,
coral flesh to his lust-inflamed eyes. Slowly, he lowered his
head as if to view the naked, delectable site more closely, and
breathlessly she watched as his lecherous eyes drank of it
greedily for a long moment, its almost virginal beauty delighting
him, until he could seemingly no longer endure the abstinence and
he dropped his head, thrusting the full length of his wet,
salacious tongue deep into the quivering warm depths of her tight
young vagina.
Madeleine's body responded of its own volition, jerking with
convulsive lurches, a loud groan emitting from her throat as her
buttocks ground downward in an effort to escape the bestial
outrage he was committing upon her defenseless young womanhood.
Her stomach churned in veritable repulsion and she wailed aloud
loathsomely as his tongue slithered in and out of her unwanting,
cuntal opening.
"Oooooohhhh ... my ... my God! Wh-What ...? Oooohhh, stop
... stop it!" she groaned in shocked humiliation, her head raising
to shake negatively as down through her breasts she watched his
violent assault on her naked vagina. It couldn't be true! It
wasn't happening to her, she thought while his tongue raced up
into her unreceptive, yet rapidly dilating cuntal walls.
"Oooohhh, dear God ... please stop, M'sieu'?" she begged in her
shame as unwanted, and never before, twinges of lurid pleasure
immediately began to permeate her entire body from his depraved
animalistic tonguing of her moist, quivering slit.
And he did, all of a sudden, raising up to again grin lewdly
down at her, his lips wet from his own saliva mixed with the
viscid secretion from her pussy, and as she stared he ran his
thick tongue over his lips and said: "Christ ... nectar from the
gods could never taste like that delicious little cunt, Baby. I'm
going to have to eat more of that ... but it can wait ..."
And then he moved up further over her, lowering his evil face
slowly with parting lips until he sucked a ruby, hard nipple
between them, his mouth spreading to encompass even a generous
portion of the proud, white firm flesh, and abruptly she felt his
teeth sink into it cruelly. She groaned aloud with the pain and
tried to push his big face away, but he held her tight while his
hands taunted the softness of her thighs, hips and buttocks, until
in despair, she relaxed her struggles in helpless subservience.
He raised up from her erect, firm breast and leered down.
"You understand now, don't you, Baby? You're going to get fucked,
just the way you wanted it." He chuckled lewdly. "Take me to
Boston, you said, and I'll let you. All right, to Boston we go
... but first we fuck and suck, right? ... Well? Answer me ...
right?"
"Oh ... Oh please, M'sieu'... I was wrong ... I didn't know
... Don't do anymore to me ... I'll go away ... never tell anyone,
I swear ..."
"You'll swear, eh?" Once more, he laughed with licentious
cruelty. "You goddamned frogs ... you get me, you know what?" His
ugly face contorted fiercely. "Spread those thighs, kid ... wider
... wider! Yeah ... that's better ... now, just hold onto your
skull, sweetheart, 'cause daddy's about to fuck the livin' hell
out of you ...!"
Madeleine's breath lodged in her throat, as above her she
read his leer of triumph, and she whined aloud in pure fear ... at
the same time helplessly answering his command to spread her legs
obscenely apart. He rested up over her, his arms, two giant
pillars on either side of her shoulders; she then saw one move
away as its hand disappeared down between them; she whimpered as
the thick rubbery head of his huge cock parted the sensitive,
fleshy lips of her tight, hardly-adult pussy. Again, she rolled
her head to one side and then the other, clutching her eyes
tightly shut even as a tremor fluttered through her at the sudden,
galvanic tangency of its insinuation inside the hair-lined flanges
of the slit he had lubricated with his salaciously licking tongue.
Her breath, she still held wadded in her throat as she lay beneath
him in total defeat, fearing to release it in her anxiety.
He eased his heavy hips downward and forward with a
gentleness she never would have expected of him, yet, even so, the
first actual contact with the tiny mouth of her vagina caused her
to wince and cringe with a loud moan.
"Oh God, NO!" she cried as the huge head pressured tightly
against the pink, snug elastic opening between her widespread
thighs.
Once more.
"Aaaaaauuuggghhh," she grunted, as suddenly the tip slipped
inside just beyond its coronal rim and she really sensed the first
cruel stretching of the taut, rubbery opening in her crotch. My
God ... with Jean Louis it had been nothing like this ... even the
first time! It was as she had feared! Her thighs were splitting
apart from the continuing, expanding pressures! He was going to
rip her open ... tear her completely apart ... maybe, even leave
her to bleed to death between her legs once he was finished with
her ...!
He flicked his hips once more and she screamed at him.
"Ohhhh ... Mon Dieu! No ... No! You're killing me, M'sieu'!
I'll bleed to death! Ohhhh stop ... stop ... please, I beg ...!"
Then, there came a burst of agony between her naked thighs, a
sudden, deep, plunging entry as if a white-hot ingot had been
thrust into her body.
She screamed, futilely attempting to recoil from the fleshy
snake, but it pursued her however she managed to twist and writhe,
and a wet mouth clamped onto hers, chewing at her gasping lips and
tongue, while the searing torture-rod raced in and out and in,
pounding her little-girl cunt until she was certain it was being
devoured by tongues of flame, and her whole lower portions seemed
to be torn asunder, causing gushes of tears to stream down her
cheeks until at last, she made her final sob ... and fainted dead
away.
Madeleine awakened much later. It was dark and a bedside
lamp burned in the room. As she gathered her wits slowly, she
became aware of her breasts being stroked, and that a human being
lay tight against her back. She was on her side, in a bed,
covered with an unfamiliar patch-quilt. She was naked except for
her ruined stockings. It all came back to her then ... she felt
like weeping over the nylons. She took a deep breath and gazed at
what loomed before her eyes. The room was strange and her head
throbbed. Then, the agonized ache in her vagina registered, and
as she moved ever so slightly its soreness whipped her breath
away. She stopped moving; it felt as if something was lodged
inside it ... but after a moment, she knew that was not so.
Momentarily, the events past materialized into a pattern of
horror, and without moving further, she dropped her eyes to gape
at the fleshy hand caressing her breast. So ... it was reality!
He had done it to her! And that accounted for the inflamed fury
at her groin. All right ... so, it was done. She'd kept her end
of the bargain after all ... Good. Damnit ... good! Instantly,
she found that she was somewhat happy now that it was behind her.
At least, he hadn't gotten her virginity ... the filthy pig! And
now, he couldn't deny her Boston.
"I'm thirsty," she said matter-of-factly, licking at her
parched lips. "I'd like some water."
She made a motion toward arising but he held her down. Then,
his hand ran down her belly, the fingers tracing a line over her
hip to rest in the hollow of her buttock. She felt his heavy bulk
stir behind her as he rolled from the bed.
"You stay put, Baby. I'll get it for you ... in honor of
your tight little pussy and most beautiful ass."
His filthy words twisted at her entrails. Dear God, she
thought, what could she have been thinking of? Then, he came into
view around the foot of the bed and she watched his flabby
buttocks shake obscenely as he walked to his valise. She stared
at him, refusing to believe that he had actually penetrated her
almost virginal body so intimately.
"What you need's a slug of vodka and water," he prescribed.
"No ... please. Just water."
He grinned. "Better learn to listen to your elders, Baby.
They know what's best."
It was useless, like everything else. She watched him pour a
small amount from the bottle he took out of his bag, then fill the
tumbler with water. He brought it to her and she drank thirstily;
he climbed over her, laying down behind her once more. She tried
to ignore his intense body heat, thinking vaguely how different
one saw things once they were over and done with.
The drink was effective, bracing and warming her stomach.
She lay quietly and felt him snuggle closer to her. That, she
could endure; tomorrow they would be in Boston and she had enough
money ... dear God ... he had another erection! It felt huge
against the cleavage of her bottom.
"You've got skin like green moss, Baby. Ever feel moss?
It's as soft as velvet ... maybe softer," he said.
"Th-Thank you."
"But ... you surprised me, kid." He sniggered quietly. "You
weren't no goddamned virgin like I expected. Someone'd been in
that little cunt of yours playing around before me."
"No! That's not true," she lied. "It's ... it's from riding
the horse for my brother when he plowed."
Keel laughed outright. "So ...? Cherries are always trouble
anyway; they scream too loud. It makes no difference. You were
good, kid. You were good ... wild enough as it was. That's some
tight little cunt you've got ... or had." He laughed lewdly.
"Can't imagine what it'd been like if it was any tighter."
He spoke the words with intense pleasure. It was obvious to
Madeleine that he'd enjoyed every minute of her rape. She didn't
respond, simply laid there, her mind almost a blank now, her only
thoughts when they did occur, were of Boston and her future.
His pulsing shaft of flesh pressing between her soft, round
buttocks surprised her with a sudden jerking motion, and then he
put his hand on her waist, clutching at her hardly perceptible hip
bone to draw her bottom toward his loins.
"Please?" she sparred, feeling quite safe now.
His huge body moved closer against her from behind and then
he was nibbling at the nape of her neck, moving along to her
shoulder. She lay, pretending impassiveness, even as a little
ball of apprehension began to form once more inside her belly.
Abruptly, his hand slipped between her thighs where her buttocks
adjoined them. She jerked automatically, but his presence there
no longer shocked her, nor did it please her either, but in fact,
it affected her no way at all. His thick, long fingers dallied at
the lips of her vagina, finally oozing inside her passage to
gently stroke its walls. Her wetness startled her and she
contracted her bowels in spite of herself. Then, amazingly
enough, it occurred to her that she was not exactly repelled by
his manipulations this time, that even a certain amount of thrill
was surging through her. God ... what was she becoming, anyway?
Was this the way it happened to the girls she had known who had
ran away to Montreal? Were all females affected by something
inserted in, or playing at the mouths of their pussies? She'd
never have believed it if someone had told her ... And then, his
rigid prick slipped between her tight, full thighs following his
leading fingers that had probed for her pelvic opening.
God, she had to keep a hold on herself. "Please, M'sieu'
Keel, I'm too sore for that," she managed in English.
"It's all in your head, kid ... just lay perfectly still and
enjoy it," he hissed hotly into her ear.
Damn him! She caught at the moment of anger swelling up in
her throat, swallowed twice, then felt the turgid head of his cock
find the irritated ring of the moist hair-lined orifice between
her thighs. Momentarily, she winced, groaning as it wormed into
her, but he gave no quarter, and at that precise moment of entry
he seemed to become transformed with all the animal-like qualities
she had already become familiar with. His breath rasped from his
lungs in a grunting burst and he skewered viciously and completely
right up into her, so emphatically that she let out a cry of agony
and tried to pull free of him.
"Oh pleaseee! You're hurting me!" she exclaimed.
But he held her fast, a hand clutching around each hip so
that his fingers gouged into the firm pliable flesh of her
abdomen. He thrust into her from behind without mercy, growing
ever larger and larger. She gasped, writhing in her
understandable increasing agony, impaled completely, helplessly,
once again. His thighs were sweaty, sticky-hot along the
undersides of her own, and the bristly hairs of his loins prickled
at her nude buttocks. He pounded into her without letup.
Good God, he seemed to pack her entire young belly with his
massive, pummeling prick ... up to her breasts ... and maybe
beyond. Sometimes, he hurt her she thought, but not so often now,
and there were other moments when it seemed as if he were bursting
inside her, expanding intricate parts that had always been secret,
closed, forbidden. He was like a churning sea of volcanic lava
behind her, hissing, swirling, tossing, thundering and crashing
against her soft, smooth behind.
"Jesus Christ!" she heard him grunt in English, while his
fingers ground deeply into her belly, making her cry out. She
felt an increased pressure at her hips, then he was pulling and
guiding her onto her knees, forcing himself up behind her. She
didn't resist, but let herself be maneuvered, although the
animalistic position completely embarrassed her. She had never
kneeled in front of a man before.
Madeleine felt him inch closer between her widespread thighs,
separating them even further with his knees, ramming his lust-
inflated cock deeper and deeper, to the very hilt ... his heavy,
bloated balls swaying and slapping against her now erect and
quivering clitoris as it peeked from its little shrine between the
spread moist lips of her tight cunt. Stretched open this way, he
was reaching an unmerciful depth inside her, forcing gasp after
gasp of deceiving pain-pleasure from her panting mouth. Her back
had already begun to ache from the cruel pressure of his hands
about her waist, thrusting her upper torso down so that her
buttocks loomed up toward his face. She had never even dreamed
such debasement before in her young life; she wondered ... how
could she ever face anyone again?
The pleasure was growing ... the pain lessening ... a never-
before weird, erotic sensation; her loins tingled and clenched and
there began a tiny, maddening, electric-like prickling that
instigated deep within her womb and seeped relentlessly through
the raw nerve ends of her flesh. His groin pounded her buttocks
with punishing, resounding emphasis. She heard little wailing
groans commence to escape him, and her own sensations had begun to
ripple through her cunt and out the inflamed, fleece-lined lips,
dancing like fire across her thighs. He writhed and fucked into
her, raising a whine from her throat with every in-plunge. Dear
God, he seemed to be continuously growing inside her ... and going
higher and higher toward her throat. Her firm, youthful breasts
heaved and jounced, their nipples distended, pebble-hard and
tingling as they brushed tantalizingly against the linen of the
bed, and she found herself waggling the stretched moons of her ass
uncontrollably back on his spearing rod of flesh ... ignoring her
tormenting soreness, aware only of the great building pressure of
fluid, screaming urgency in her loins ... pressure that was
reaching toward a fine point of sheer bliss.
This was it! What Jean Louis had tried to explain and was
incapable of arousing in her. Mon Dieu ... this was it ...! She
had come to the conclusion it could never happen to her ... but it
was! Oh God ... oh God ...! There was a tremendous ever-
expanding balloon blowing up to an impossible size within her.
Abruptly, she wailed aloud, an eerie shriek as the balloon
exploded sending wild, ecstatic, liquid sensations to race
poundingly through her loins, overwhelming her with utter joy, yet
she screamed and screamed as the tears of frightening enchantment
spilled down her cheeks in a rush of delightful relief.
Finally, she began to calm, but she was trembling like a leaf
in a storm, her belly quivering, while he continued to incessantly
thrust his massive prick into her moist, dilated vagina with
driving ferocity, rasping and grunting like a madman and shoving
her face into the bed with every wicked, forward plunge. Her
momentarily forgotten soreness began to make its existence known
once more; her passage bore the feeling of being massaged with
steel-wool. She gnashed her teeth, praying now that she could
endure it until he would cum ... and then it occurred to her that
he had taken no precautions ... that once he squirted his life-
giving sperm into her, she could become pregnant. A new wave of
fear spiraled through her and she tried to pull away from him, but
he wouldn't have it. He clung to her hips savagely, ramming with
vicious strokes; she tried to plead her situation but by that time
he was muttering to himself, an incoherent sound that quickly
graduated into a moaning, groaning agony.
She felt a numbed splitting pain as the brutal head of his
deep sunk cock suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to
tear the tiny clamlike mouth of her womb wide asunder. It jerked
and began to spurt; she sensed the gushing hot, white semen
shooting into her in seething bursts, sloshing around inside her
belly with the effect of liquid fire. The pores of her tight,
still palpitating vagina seemed to clasp around it of their own
volition, the raw, pink sheath sucking and milking the jerking
shaft as if governed by a separate brain of its own ... once more
spilling its near-virginal juices into the already flooded cavern
of her involuntarily quivering pussy.
At last, he fell on her with a groan, his great weight
causing her to collapse beneath him. She struggled for breath,
protested and he rolled off her. She said nothing, but got from
the bed and went into the bedroom to clean herself up and apply
cold towels to her aching loins and battered young slit. When she
returned he was asleep on the bed, laying fat and naked, his
snores filling the room. Quietly, she crawled beneath the covers
and closed her eyes, falling into an exhausted sleep.
Once in the night, Madeleine remembered, he had come to her
again and she'd tried to protest, arousing anger in him. When
she'd attempted to push him away he'd slapped her hard, then
climbed up over her, stretching her thighs wide apart once again.
She'd sobbed half-hysterically, but he'd ignored her, stuffing his
rigid vile shaft into her tender and bruised cunt yet once more,
his great bulk bearing down upon her mercilessly. And as his
brutal, thick cock pummeled deeper and deeper into her tortured
vagina, she could hear him sniggering almost insanely ... and that
was the second time she fainted that night.
Now, reflecting back as she lay there waiting for Antoine to
come to her, Madeleine recalled how her misery and heartbreak had
just begun. In the morning, she had awakened to find M. Keel
gone. She had called out first, thinking him to be in the bath,
but suddenly panic had seized her and she'd leaped from the bed
naked, flinging back the door to see that his car was not there!
God, how she had wept!
The proprietaire, an aged man named M. Rondeau and his wife,
had sensed her circumstances and taken her to them, provided for
her under their roof, and in turn she had worked as long as she
could through her pregnancy, maintaining the cabins and keeping
the house until her time came. They had even paid for Dr. Carey
to deliver her, and advised that she give Igat up when the drunken
physician had suggested he could put the child in a good home in
Montreal where she could look forward to a full and respectable
life.
God, how Madeleine wished she had never listened to them ...
her sweet, precious Igat ... The loss was greater than she could
ever have imagined ... and once she had learned that the wealthy
Rafael Girardes had her baby, she had immediately come to Montreal
just to be close to her ... happy if she were even able to catch a
glimpse of her child on the street. If ... if only there were
some way she could make arrangements with Mr. Girarde just to see
her ... to talk to her once in awhile ... it wouldn't be so bad,
and maybe she could endure it ... Perhaps if she went and spoke to
the wealthy importer who held some sort of seat in government ...
He was probably a reasonable man ... If only there was some way
she could tell Antoine, and he would help ... Why didn't he come
to bed? She needed him so badly ...
Madeleine tossed a few more minutes in her restless
confusion, the steady stream of unhappy memories draining her
until she closed her eyes in choked weariness. Why didn't he come
... why didn't he ...?
She slept.
Chapter 4
Antoine made himself a third scotch and soda. He sat in his
favorite chair with his feet up on the ottoman and let the music
toil at soothing him. He was still upset; completely confused
about Galaxy Mining and Uncle Gaston, and a bundle of ragged,
mixed emotions concerning Ginny Novak. He could hardly think of
anything but the vivid memory of her soft, vibrant body pressing
hotly against him in the playroom ... her kisses and exuberant
passion ... her admittance that she had wanted him physically for
so long, just as he had ardently yearned for her ... insisting
that they had to make love ... even to suggesting their trysting
place. God, it was wrong ... wrong! And he knew it ... such
adulterous deceit behind his beloved Madeleine's back ... and to
commit against this man who had befriended and raised him ...
Christ, how low could a person sink? Well, he knew he was going
to find out; he couldn't help himself. He would go to the summer
house at Ste. Agathe des Monts tomorrow.
He didn't know but what Madeleine suspected something. She
had hardly spoken to him after leaving the party at Uncle
Gaston's, nor he to her, and the little conversation they had
exchanged seemed desultory and strained. He wondered if she had
seen him going off with Ginny; he doubted it, but then, of course,
he wasn't certain. He couldn't face her anymore this night ...
not with knowing what he intended to do tomorrow, so he'd
suggested the nightcap, certain she would refuse, and now he
wanted to be sure she was sleeping when he joined her in bed.
Truly, he felt like a cad, but damnit, he doubted that he
could endure a session of her amateur sexual calisthenics tonight,
which was no reflection at all of his feeling for her; he loved
her; there wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind about that ...
but he needed a woman, a warm-blooded, capable woman who knew how
to satisfy a man ... and there was damn little question but what
Ginny Novak could and would accomplish the task. God, just the
idea caused a stirring in his loins.
He tried to imagine what Uncle Gaston would do if he ever
found out; he was such an unpredictable man that it was impossible
to even hazard a guess. It was obvious that Ginny meant nothing
to him except for satisfying his ruttish needs, yet, by the same
token, Antoine assumed that he watched, or had her watched
closely, just as he had with all the mistresses before her. They
were his property; he appraised them, bought them, owned them, and
when he was through with them they were discarded. Factually,
Antoine had no idea what ever became of the many lovely young
women he had seen come and go before Ginny, but he truly doubted
that they were forced into the cordon of prostitutes who were
obliged to share a large portion of their earnings with the czar
of the Canadian underworld, as Ginny had tried to make him
believe.
Antoine had never blinded himself to Gaston Larreau's sources
of wealth, his criminal liaisons, or especially his syndicate
connections, but nothing could ever make him believe that the man
he called uncle would ever allow anything to happen to him. There
was no question in his mind that if Galaxy was in serious trouble,
he could rely on Uncle Gaston to protect him. Ginny was very much
in error on that point, too.
She was acrimoniously bitter and he could understand that,
the way the powerful little man abused her, but he was not about
to let her vindictiveness cause him to lose his own head. After
all, his allegiance ... if he possessed such a thing ... was
primarily to his own ... to Uncle Gaston and to Madeleine ... but
damn, he was going to fuck that breathtaking blonde beauty if it
was the last thing he ever did ... and he was going to hate
himself for doing it ... but there would be plenty of time for
remorse ... after.
He blended for himself his fourth 'nightcap'. The liquor had
charged him comfortably; he felt quite confident and secure once
again and the stirring at his loins had grown to sizable
proportions. Perhaps, if Madeleine was still awake ... He arose
quickly and went into the bedroom, but she was sleeping. He moved
close to the bed and smiled down at her lovely reposed form ...
surprised to note the two little furrows between her closed eyes
at the bridge of her nose, as if she might be perplexed or
troubled in a dream.
My God, she was beautiful and so innocent ... and he loved
her with all of his heart. He'd make it up to her, that's what he
would do. No matter what happened between Ginny and himself at
the summer place, he'd make it up to her. By God, he'd take an
oath on that right now.
I love you, Madeleine darling. I swear it; I love you!
Chapter 5
"Oh! Ooohhh! My God, please? Wa-Wait just ... a ... moment
...!" gasped the naked and ravishing Ginny Novak as the gargoylish
little czar caught hold of her waist in his deceiving, powerful
hands and bounced her up and down, his salacious, almost colorless
eyes wickedly absorbing the voluptuous sight of her full, erect
firm breasts joggling and quaking before him, while her mouth
gaped and her eyes widened blankly with the pain each time he
raised his heavy lips to drive his massive cock up into her with
evil vicious delight.
Gaston Larreau displayed a warped, gold-toothed grin. "You
surprise me, ma chere. Don't tell me that canyon you call a cunt
has contracted from lack of use." He leered at her mercilessly,
continuing to raise her up off his penetrating rod of brutal
flesh, then driving her down upon it to hear and watch her grunt
and recoil with the agony.
Desperately, the lovely blonde struggled to endure the
torment without further entreaty, knowing the uselessness of
pleading to his barbaric, animalistic nature. It was not a
punishment he was submitting her to, but a form of sadistic
pleasure he derived from sprawling naked in his huge, leather
reclining chair with his feet raised while she straddled him as
she was now, her long, white, rounded legs astride and folded
beneath her with wide-spread thighs, her crotch completely exposed
to him, the stretched open lips of her sparse, blonde, hair-
covered pussy disclosing her delicate, pink-hued inner-flesh as he
forced her to absorb his elephantine prick up into her unprepared
vagina without benefit of the least mercy.
When the last guest had left, he'd turned to her and ordered
her out of his sight. He'd seen enough of her whorish face for
one night, he'd spat, and in welcomed relief she had gone to her
room to think and dream of Antoine and their rendezvous the
following afternoon. She had no more than climbed into bed when
he'd walked naked into her room, surprising her by plopping
obscenely down in this, his favorite chair and snarling: "Come,
sow! Get over here and squat down on this prick of mine ... All
of a sudden it's acquired an itch that needs servicing, and that's
what I keep you around here for."
Of course, she hadn't hesitated even for a moment; to do that
would have meant a beating with a belt or his fists, however he
happened to feel; instead, she had jumped from the bed, stripped
away her night gown and immediately mounted him, taking his giant,
stone-hard cudgel into her hand and quickly drawing the huge,
rubbery, purple head through the sensitive, hardly moist coral-
flesh of her vulva and placing its tip at the snug, unwanting and
unprepared mouth of her vagina, catching and holding her breath in
dreaded anticipation of his first inhuman thrust that she knew was
to come. And it had ... a vicious spearing penetration of the
blunt headed shaft, expanding the tight elastic-like mouth of her
passage in an instantaneous piercing pain as he lunged his hips
upward, simultaneously forcing her by the waist down onto his
colossal instrument with bestial fury.
She had tried to contain her outcry, but that was impossible.
The insane savagery of his cruel bursting entry had sent his
impaling cock racing up into her, its swollen spongy head reaming
her tight, unready vagina, scraping at the tender, sensitive walls
and battering against her cervix painfully.
"Auuugggghhhhh!" she whimpered, little rivulets of tears
suddenly appearing on her cheeks.
Gaston Larreau sniggered sadistically. "So," he grinned,
reaching out to pinch and knead one pink, distended nipple
harshly, "it makes you so happy you cry with joy, eh?"
Ginny did not answer. She attempted a smile but that, too,
was feeble. Finally, she said: "I-I'll be all right ... in a ...
minute ..."
Larreau laughed once more. As always, he was reveling in his
subjugation of this luscious American creature whom he had won,
body and soul, at the turn of a card from a cheap Las Vegas
gambler named Ace Fennel. In a thirty-six hour straight session
he'd cleaned Fennel of his last sou, then wagered twenty thousand
dollars against the girl's ass, insisting that she strip naked and
lay flat in the center of the table as Fennel's ante, next to his
own green stacked bills. He remembered how she'd cried and
pleaded in shame and fear as he'd run his hands over her nude body
in an intimate, unnecessary, appraisal of her value while she
begged Fennel not to do this thing to her. She'd loved the hood
all right, which had served to spice the gamble to the limit, and
when it was decided that one cut of the cards, high man, would
determine the winner, and he had turned a five of spades, followed
by Fennel's anxious but confident drawing of the deuce of
diamonds, she had broken into near hysterics.
He'd taken her the first time right then, stripping and
climbing onto the table between her pretty long legs while her
dejected boyfriend turned his back and walked from the room,
ignoring her desperate, wailing pleas for help, and it'd been the
most satisfying, fulfilling fuck he'd ever had with her, for she
had fought him violently and he'd beaten and raped her a half-
dozen times, until his loins were drained dry and he'd collapsed
on top of her in an exhausted sleep. After that, she had never
been the same ... nothing but a spiritless pig who couldn't
control herself once his prick tripped her libido, a cringing
slave ready to stoop before him and perform the vilest act he
could think of at his command; completely gone was the last trace
of resistance that had made her at all worth while to him
sexually.
He was damned near through with her ... maybe entirely
through; he wasn't quite certain yet; that was going to depend on
Antoine's sweet little wife, Madeleine, along with several other
minor details ... but right at the moment he was enjoying the
erotic spectacle of Ginny Novak's pain twisted face.
Unfortunately, in a matter of minutes, she would come to enjoy it,
lessening his own pleasure ... and even as he stared up into her
contorted face, mercilessly driving his gigantic shaft up into her
yet tight passage, he saw the masochistic little sparks of initial
delight come alive to dance in her sea-green eyes ... that time
had already arrived; she was suddenly beginning to relish her
agony.
He clutched at her narrow, supple waist and thrust brutally
once more, but her anxious, wincing moments had passed. She half-
smiled a cold and hard expression, yet there was excitement
blended with it.
God, how she despised him. To her, he was the culmination of
all evil, but there was no way she could resist ... once it was
inside her ... the intoxicating thrill of his unbelievable shaft.
She had known many men in her life, from hired help on her
father's mid-western farm when she was only thirteen, to the
shifty-eyed, pasty-faced gamblers who shunned the daylight in the
gambling casinos of Las Vegas, but never had she met a male to
equal this wicked little monstrosity's sexual stamina, or massive,
satisfying organ, and even with his twisted mind and depraved
perversions, she was yet to be denied her first moment of
satisfaction with him carnally. And his fat little ugly, pudgy
hands with their deceiving strength ... they could set her afire
with their skilled, pleasureable manipulations ... drive her to
act regardless of how debasing; she was truly his slave in lust
... factually and willingly.
"All right, M'sieu' ... I'm ready now ... do whatever you
damned pleased," she hissed down at him, as if they were engaging
in some sort of contest of physical endurance.
"You pig," he spat at her in French, still he could not hold
back his grin. "Bitch!" She was indeed his counterpart;
presently, he was sorry he had to end their association.
She began to smile down at him excitedly, at the same moment
clenching her buttocks tight to her own advantage as she began to
rhythmically ride up and down his long, thick rod, and he could
feel the abrupt secretion of her lubricating fluids from the
velvety walls of her vagina bathing his cock warmly as she now
swallowed up every fraction of it with a muscularly sucking action
that pulled at the lining of his testicles. Viciously, he dug at
her pink-nippled, erect breasts, the soft resilient flesh oozing
between his fingers like rubbery putty as she worked her full,
round, white buttocks up and down furiously, her now incited cunt
endeavoring to ingest ... even devour him.
Mon Dieu. She was a human fucking machine, he mused. She
had only to be set off and she went insane. If it were a
stallion's cock it would all be the same to her ... a prick was a
prick as long as it triggered her. Even so, he'd not missed the
longing eyes she'd cast so many times in Antoine's direction; but
what in God's name would Antoine do with such a women? Suddenly,
he laughed aloud at the thought, then, he said: "You did well
keeping my nephew occupied while I discussed important business
matters with his Madeleine."
Ginny snickered openly, it seemed like her turn anyway.
"What kind of business, M'sieu'?"
Larreau sobered quickly: he didn't appreciate her obvious
meaning. "Your tongue is long enough to choke you, Ma'mo'selle.
I suggest you curb it," he snarled at her. "Talking as you do, a
girl could find herself in an awkward situation, eh?"
Ginny never lost her smile. Factually, she was in ecstasy,
and at such times little could reach and upset her. Her loins had
come alive with tiny prurient sensations caused by his massive
prick that she was forcing in and out of her vaginal passage at a
rapid, ever increasing rate. And she had serviced him long enough
now to know that he would do little until he'd spewed his hot,
white sperm up into her. She placed a kiss on the tip of her
finger, then lay that on the end of his nose.
He grinned, unable to hold it back. His colorless eyes
dropped to stare at his proud cock pushing and pulling at the
pink, ragged lips of the hair-lined pussy between her straddling
legs, the tiny coral petals of its inner lips clasping hungrily
around the glistening shaft as it disappeared deep up the
salacious clasping hole.
"You're the best," he said suddenly, not meaning to, but
unable to hold it back. "You fucking whore ... you're the best
ever!"
She laughed. "Yes, Darling, I know," she said, smiling and
squirming, writhing her round buttocks on the down-stroke.
"But you think you have me trapped, eh pig?"
"No ... no, I don't. I never wanted you trapped, M'sieu'. I
never wanted you at all. You made me what I am."
"Bitch!"
"Oui ... in French. Exactly ... in good old USofA, master."
"You are a big mouth! You talk too much and say too little,"
he snarled at her. "How would you like to join the ranks of my
swill-pigs, sow?"
"I figure that's just about my next stop ..."
"Exactly!" he exclaimed, watching as she continued the same
body action and he could see her stomach muscles contract as she
clutched with the long velvety sleeve of her snug vagina
skillfully at his prick.
"Cunt! Bitch!" he gasped. "On the floor, whore! On your
belly, damn you!"
Ginny's breath caught in her throat. Had she gone too far?
What in God's name had he conceived of now? She dare not
hesitate. Nimbly, she hopped off him and dropped onto all-fours,
her tongue-tip protruding between the two white even rows of her
small teeth.
"Down!" he snapped, and she dropped flat on her belly.
Slowly, he came out of the chair and knelt to stare
lasciviously at the warm, voluptuous body beneath him. He slid
his hand along the inner side of her soft, white thigh to the
moistened lips and thin pink slit of her pussy, tracing the hair-
line separation with a forefinger upward between the creamy hued
orbs of her firm, white buttocks, watching the round, soft moons
arch and fall in growing excitement to his touch; then, he felt
the desire in his own loins beginning to glow hotly. Mon Dieu,
the feel of her satin-like skin could still set him off ... damn,
but she was a desirable bitch!
Ginny Novak swallowed tightly. Her subservient prostrate
position, and knowing she must submit to whatever vile whim that
might titillate his warped passion, was making her brain whirl in
a growing kaleidoscope of sensual lust. She had no idea what he
was going to do to her ... or make her do to him; she only knew
that she was rapidly losing all control in her rising need. Now,
he was over her, and she squirming beneath him to the excitement
of his near magic touch, little tongues suddenly licking
salaciously at her loins and belly, building to greater and
greater heights of captivating pleasure with every passing moment
from the obscene teasing of his vile hands.
She dropped her face to the nap of the carpeting and groaned
into it stifling the licentious throaty grunts of need emitting
involuntarily from between her now tightly clenched teeth. God,
how often had she vowed that she wouldn't let her body run away
with her as it had so many, many times with him ... and now there
was less control than ever. When she lost her head like this, he
became absolutely fiendish ... Oh God, his hands ... his hands!
Her full, round buttocks hollowed and ground wantonly beneath the
caresses of his pudgy, but relentless, hands, and she knew that he
must sense the sudden urgency of tremors rippling obscenely over
her body.
She heard his rammish laugh. She couldn't see his face but
assumed he was grinning ... rubbery lipped ... wet and loose
mouthed from the sight of her near total surrender. God ... she
wanted him ... as always, she wanted him ... and as always, she
hated herself for it ... but she couldn't resist the thought of
his huge, wonderful cock slipping into her ... "Ooohhhh," she
moaned aloud as she felt his thick fingers slide up inside her
moist, tingling vagina to further taunt her.
Gaston Larreau gloatingly listened to her whine down into the
softness of the carpeting ... her voice unnatural, thick with
desire and ever growing wantonness.
"Ahhhhh," she groaned once more, twisting her passion
contorted face to the side so that he could see the effect his
teasing was having upon her, and then it occurred to him that she
was trying to anticipate his every move and he chuckled to
himself; it was of the utmost importance to his sensual
gratification that a woman be kept completely in the dark, lest
the ultimate pleasure of shock and subjugation be destroyed.
Ginny, her bottom churning incessantly beneath his hand, made
no effort to fight against the lewd, carnal urges now racing
uncontrollably through her incited body, and in her mind she had
begun to pray that he would fuck her soon, before his tormenting
hands drove her completely out of her mind. Oh God ... I want his
viciously mean, beautiful cock inside my tingling cunt. I do! I
do! I've got to have it or I'll go mad! Why doesn't he fuck me?
Please ... please ... make him fuck me now ... now!
But instead, his thick middle finger surged with relentless
force and depth into her vagina and she froze, momentarily
catching her breath, until the sensations it caused finished
skyrocketing through her.
"Oooohhhhh, do it to me ... do it, for God's sake!" she
pleaded back at him, forgetting all of her vows to resist and not
be conquered by his foul beast's lewd manipulations, trying now to
twist her neck so that she could watch his maddening hands working
back there at her crotch between her wide-spread thighs.
"Do what ma chere?" he taunted, grinning down triumphantly at
her lust-contorted face as she gaped helplessly and near glassy-
eyed back at the continual growing of his massive, rock-hard cock.
"Oh, damn you ... fuck me!" she moaned, the words tumbling
from her lips. "Fuck me animal fashion ... like a dirty bitch in
heat!"
Larreau began to laugh gleefully. "Oui, ma chere, as you say
... but remember, you requested it, eh?" He gazed evilly down at
her squirming back, a thin line of sweat beginning to form on his
upper lips. "Raise up your ass," he commanded.
She was still on her stomach and without hesitation arched
her hips higher, then felt his hands reaching for her to pull her
up onto her knees. She let him guide her and kept lifting herself
until she was entirely raised before him, high and open. She felt
the weakness and trembling in her legs and wished he would hurry,
but there was no way of making him enter into her again until he
was ready.
Finally, he moved in behind her, spreading her thighs even
wider with his knees, his heavy, pulsating cock heaving lustfully
as it pointed itself toward the crinkled pinkish ring of her tiny
anus so lusciously displayed to him from between the full rounded
spheres of her buttocks. Suddenly, he inched backwards on his
knees, then, leaned forward, probing his saliva-wet tongue upward
from the moist, hair-collared flanges of her cunt-mouth, along the
spread crevice to her small, prune-wrinkled rectum where he tried
to penetrate with its stiffened tip, but the sphincter was too
snug, and instead, he accomplished his main purpose ... to
lubricate it well. Then, he raised up sliding in close to her
once more to taunt her cunt with the violent purple head of his
peeled-fore-skinned prick, until her whimpers drifted back to him
as he ran its insinuated head between the splayed lips to gently
tease her clitoris, and she began to moan incessantly.
He probed tentatively at her with the gigantic fleshy weapon,
searching for the hot moisture of her vagina and left her buttocks
clasping at his jerking cock as he guided it with his hand down
the smooth white crevice past her anus to the eager hair-lined
opening that awaited him. He felt the organ brush across the
softness of her pubic hair and once again reach the quivering lips
of her vagina. He was playing a game. His caresses had aroused
her to the point where the flowing secretions inside her had
completely lubricated her whole genital area with a hot, slippery
wetness that made it easy for him to worm his throbbing prick into
the smooth, tight gripping flesh between her legs.
She groaned in pleasure as she felt him introduce the massive
tip into her viscous coated channel, never stopping, but
continuing a constant penetration ... Oh God ... it's so big! So
hot ...! until its entirety, was near submerged in slow,
tormenting inches into the very depths of her belly.
"Ooohhhh yes, yes! Give it all to me ... all of it!" she
choked in her passion, catching herself the several times she was
about to cry out, realizing that this devastating, constant plunge
into her entrails was what she wanted ... what she had to have.
The grotesque little czar grinned lewdly, his lips curling
wetly back to expose his golden teeth as he began to fuck into her
with long, powerful strokes ... never hurrying, but leaning back
and watching his thick, lust-hardened rod of flesh moving in and
out of her wide-stretched vagina ... watching the soft, pink flesh
gripping him, clasping his rigid prick and pulsating against him.
He sensed the muscles deep inside her passage flexing and
constricting around his mighty shaft as he fucked deeper into her.
"Uuugggnnnnhhhhh," Ginny groaned through partially clenched
teeth as the throbbing, massive cudgel rammed savagely into her.
She knew the pain ... wanted it, and couldn't contain the tears of
agonized pleasure that streamed down her cheeks. Her vaginal
passage was on fire, but experience with him had taught her that
this would gradually pass once her channel walls grew accustomed
to the giant invasion from this angle. Its huge head, it seemed,
was ripping her deepest organs ... and she wanted it so.
Suddenly, her own hand slipped between her thighs and spreading
the soft curls of her sparse pubic hair, caressed the erectiled
bud of her throbbing clitoris, caressed, stroked and taunted the
already passion-inflamed bud pulsating lasciviously down between
her open legs.
Behind her, Larreau had begun to gasp and pant heavily in his
obscene delight, and he rocked rhythmically in and out of the soft
confines of her moist, clasping cunt.
For Ginny, the pain was lessening, and the masochistic thrill
of her helpless, debased position kneeling before him rippled
through her; the ravishment of her body by this vile man who took
her at will in whatever manner that pleased him at the moment, as
a master might a slave, sent familiar waves of wicked pleasure
coursing through her entire naked being. She groaned aloud and
subconsciously began to undulate her buttocks lewdly in tiny
tempoed circles to the long thick cock fucking into her
mercilessly from behind.
"Yes ... yes ... yesssss," she moaned uncontrollably, hardly
able to believe that he had not stopped when he saw she was
enjoying it to the fullest, for this, too, was a demented torment
he reveled in, and more often than once she had been forced to
pretend her agony in order to deceive him into satisfying her.
But tonight, it all seemed different, and she realized that at any
other time this in itself would petrify her with fear, but at the
moment she was too overwhelmed in her ecstasy to even think
rationally.
Oh God ... I don't want him to ever stop ...!
On his knees, hunched behind her squirming body, Gaston
Larreau gritted his teeth wickedly as he fucked in and out with
long, hard lunges, his own heavy buttocks hollowing with every
thrust. A feeling of absolute power spiraled through him as he
held her hips down in total subjection to his stone-hard cock
skewering relentlessly into her. She was his to do with in
whatever manner he pleased and shortly he'd remind her of that ...
all in due time ... just before her climax, when she was near
ready to go out of her mind ... that's when he enjoyed it the most
... Presently, he could feel the soft, fleshy ridges inside her
giving way before the inhuman onslaught of his pistoning shaft.
He squeezed her flesh in his brutal, pudgy hands, so that it
grew up in thick ridges, small, bloodless, hillocks of her cream-
like, satiny flesh embossed on her lush, round buttocks, and when
he released them the ridges settled back slowly, leaving angry red
marks fringed with a white bloodlessness on her skin. Each time
he thrust, his fingers gripped her harder, squeezing her soft,
unresisting thighs with sadistic delight, hurting her, forcing
groans of pain from her tormented throat as she struggled
uselessly beneath his mastery of her mind and body.
He stretched the quivering white orbs of her buttocks wide
with cruel fingers, watching the pink folds of wet, glistening
flesh clinging tightly around his rampaging cock. Suddenly, he
levered forward on his knees, and with a loud grunt, drove his
plunging shaft to the very hilt; he could feel the fleshy
resistance deep inside spread before the blunt, turgid head of his
prick, raising a soft, guttural sound from the depths of her
throat, as though the breath had been driven from her. He knew
she'd been fucked this deep before because he had done so, but
each time it was as if he had entered a virginal passage, and he
would worm the head around deep inside, enlarging the depths of
her womb and feeling its clasping muscles gripping his rigid staff
like warm, slippery elastic. As always, the soft enveloping
tightness sent a tingle of pleasure surging through his balls, and
his shaft encased in the warm, clasping sheath, pulsated with lewd
and delightful sensations.
Ginny's eyes opened and closed in a lost glaze of passion.
She spread her thighs wider, sliding her knees farther apart,
thrusting her buttocks even higher back against his plunging cock.
Now, with each battering stroke she felt with obscene rapture his
sperm-bloated balls slapping against the erect, palpitating bud of
her clitoris, while the thick, curled, pubic hair around the base
of his prick brushed tantalizingly against the soft, inner edges
of her ass. She rested in such a position that her breasts were
squashed against the carpet, its rough nap erotically taunting her
taut, distended nipples. She mewled with ecstasy as she felt the
burrowing shaft behind her imbed its unbelievable full length
inside her. Its smooth, spongy head grazed the flat hardness of
her cervix, probing deep, deep where nothing or no one had ever
before reached. Long forgotten was any humiliation of bending
like a lowly serf before him while he fucked into her from behind
exuding his lust into her hungry, open crotch. As ever, only the
lewd pleasure surging through her like myriad tongues of fire was
all that mattered. She wanted to be fucked like this, had to be
subjected to every lewd demand he could think of to satisfy her
lust-wracked body that he had so trained in the vilest of
debaucheries.
"So, ma chere, it brings you pleasure, eh?" Larreau hissed at
her, sensing the wild pressure beginning to build in his balls.
"Oh yes ... God, yes ... Don't stop! Fuck it hard and deep!
Hard and deep!"
With that, the little czar sadistically withdrew the hardened
shaft, while Ginny in sudden frustrated dismay began to waggle and
force her bottom back at him desperately, her wet, quivering pussy
searching wildly for the pleasure-giving instrument that had
escaped it. She whimpered and moaned frantically as behind her,
Larreau raised the mighty weapon until its unseeing eye leveled
with her hairless, puckered anus that glistened beneath its thin
film of viscid fluid coating her entire loins and genitals. He
might have better prepared it by stretching it with his fingers,
he thought lustfully, but the pleasures derived were better
unannounced.
He doubted in her sudden flustered state that she realized he
was penetrating her asshole at first try, without benefit of any
preliminaries. And then, she must have felt its thick bluntness
prodding and working against her tightly clenched anus. Oddly
enough, in all of the many ways he had taken her, he had never
before sodomized her, and now he realized why; he'd been saving
this for the one grand finale, the final degradation before he
finished with her for good ... and now, it was time. He chuckled
lewdly to himself. She would have to decide it was much too big;
she would judge that with certainty. He continued to grin to
himself as he wormed the tip of it into the snugly resisting
little aperture. He could feel the foreskin being stretched back
against his long, thick cock painfully, and he gave a quick hip-
thrusting stab until he could feel it slowly slipping its way into
her rectum. She would say to herself, it was all right ... all
right, because she dare say nothing else ... and then, he was well
beyond the barrier of the clutching elastic ring of the sphincter
muscle.
Ginny forced herself to think: it's all right ... it's all
right, as his vicious rod ground its way deep and deeper into her
nether channel ... and then, suddenly, without warning, she felt
as if a railroad tie was endeavoring to burst into her body
through her virginal anal passage! She tried to pull away, but he
held her fast as the impossible, agonizing penetration continued.
"Aaaauuuuuggggghhhhhh! Dear God Almighty! Noooo, nooooo ...
stop! It hurts terribly!" she cried.
Larreau grinned excitedly. Of course, it hurt, stupid pig!
It was supposed to hurt. He held her in a bear-hug and simply
rammed and thrust.
"God ... I beg you don't ... please? It's too big! It's
going to kill me!" Ginny screamed back at him through her gnashing
teeth.
But it was there and there it remained, ever moving into her
back passage and she couldn't escape it. His thighs thrust hers
forwards; his arms held her hips back to his.
Dear Jesus, I'm helpless! I can't move! It's paralyzing me!
I can't move!
"Shove back!" Larreau commanded. "Damn you, sow ... push
back, I say!"
She could barely think in her unbelievable agony, but she
knew she must obey his words, lest further torture be heaped upon
her. Every way was pain, pain, pain! But she did it ... she
pushed back and somehow opened her ass that final measure through
deliberate effort born of fear. She visualized the trunk of a
tree unrelentingly being pressed into her tiny nether hole,
stretching her buttocks wider and wider apart until she knew she
would split open. And then, it was done, his vicious cock
completely buried right up into her rectum, solid and extremely
painful, but finally better because at last it was inside her in
its entirety ... there was no more to take.
"Ohhh ... ooohhhh ... ooohhhh," she gasped. She was impaled
on his long, fleshy rod thrust into her rectum to the hilt, unable
to move from the excruciating pain that was endeavoring to split
her thighs horribly apart. Dear God, now he had subjected her to
the lowest and most brutally painful of defilements ... he was
sodomizing her! Once more she gasped, but this time for breath as
momentarily he remained immobile, perhaps allowing the obscenely
stretched channel of her rectum to become adjusted to his new
invasion inside it ... this rigid and ever-growing spear of flesh
that packed her full! Oh, the filthy beast! God curse him. Dear
Christ, could she stand it ...? Or would she faint ...?
Then all thought was whipped away as she heard him croon with
delight and gasp as he began to saw rhythmically and without the
slightest mercy deep up into the soft confines of her back
passage.
Larreau couldn't contain the groans of delight escaping him
as he felt the warm soft flesh of her flattened, full buttocks
pressing tightly against his loins. He thrust forward into the
tightly puckered and now obscenely stretched mouth of her passage,
simultaneously sliding his hand down underneath and between her
thighs to her opened cuntal slit, feeling the moisture from the
smooth, fleshy lips seeping salaciously out to cover the softness
of her pubic hair brushing teasingly against his testicles as they
swung down between her legs. His eyes locked on the hardened
shaft disappearing completely into the tight, wide-stretched oval
opening between the twin white mounds of her helplessly quivering
buttocks. He moaned again and drew it out slightly, watching with
bated breath the tender pink flesh pulling out with it and then
disappearing back inside with his inward thrust. His breathing
increased, incited by the lewd lascivious spectacle, until once
more he began plunging into her in a tempoed cadence, in and out,
in and out, deep up into the warm clasping channel of her rectum.
Ginny dug her nails into her palms, bit at her lower lip, and
was surprised when the pain eased a bit, but even more so when a
certain thread of arousal seemed to weave through her pain-wracked
body ... although it was still a mixture of hurtful discomfort and
stimulation. She felt saturatingly wet between her buttocks and
more debased than from anything he had ever subjected her to. Of
course, it was significant, this depraved perversion he was
inflicting upon her, but she couldn't fathom to what degree ... or
was it because she was refusing to face the truth ... he was
finished with her ... breaking and destroying any last vestige
toward decency she might still possess before putting her onto the
street with the rest of his cochons ... God, if she could only
think straight, but each time she tried to concentrate he
shattered the thought by a skin-splitting thrust that jolted her
forward ... until suddenly she realized that her body was
voluntarily squirming back against his every ramming plunge ...
squirming back onto his fleshy stem that was meting out the
punishment. Abruptly, she was aware of a certain masochistic
pleasure. The pain had become weirdly erotic, and she was heaving
backwards to meet the forward charge of his loins ... undulating
her body and moving her buttocks in tiny, lewd circles. In fact,
she'd begun to feel quite excited through the pain ... wanting his
massive cock buried deeper and harder up into the channel of her
ass, and she found herself reaching back beneath her thighs to
scratch gently at his swinging balls, all of a sudden, turning her
face sideways again just so he could see the new effect his
sodomizing prick was having on her.
Kneeling above and behind her, Larreau continued to watch the
reddish inflamed skin of the little round hole draw back with his
cock, clutching it as if it didn't want it ever to come out. At
first, the pressure on his shaft had been almost too much to bear,
but now it was just tight and exhilarating, the type of squeezing
pressure that promised to draw the sperm right out of his balls
with the ferocity of spewing molten metal at every stroke.
He stared at his white, vicious pole disappearing right up
her satin-smooth, gyrating ass with each lunge. It submerged
until not even a fraction of it was left unabsorbed, straining
wildly in that snug, resistant channel, its spongy, turgid, lust-
inflated head probing deep into her soft, quivering belly.
"Oooohhh, Oooohhhhh," Ginny groaned as his pelvis slapped
against the soft, resilient flesh of her twin white buttocks. The
rampaging cudgel was the length of a ball-bat ... and sunk to his
balls in her numbed and weirdly tingling asshole. Dear Jesus, she
was completely and helplessly impierced.
Larreau's balls throbbed and his cock cavorted as if it were
about to burst each time he plunged into her; she was moaning and
adding to his pressure with the movements of her ass and the
hollowing of her back. He gaped at her passion-twisted profile as
his lips bared back from his teeth. Her face was flushed a bright
red, her head flailing from side to side and her long blonde hair
strewn down over her sweating forehead like an insane woman ...
and she was gasping for more. Damn her! He'd never meant for her
to enjoy it. The filthy, pig, bitch! Christ, how he wanted to
cause her unbelievable agony! Goddamn her! He swore aloud and
gouged his cock with a ramming thrust into her ass, leaving it
there, listening to her whine as he brutally ground his pelvis in
expanding circles, routing the already inflamed inner flesh of her
passage with fiendishly cruel delight. "Ohhh ... Ooohhhh, yes ...
yes," she whimpered to his dismay. "Fuck it, fuck it, damn you!
Do anything you want to it! I love it ... do you hear me? God, I
love it!"
Larreau was suddenly losing his own sense of balance in his
near fanatical attempt to increase her agony and desperately he
tried to think of something yet more vicious he could inflict upon
her to bring about his insanely mounting climax. Christ, he had
to cum, else he'd go out of his goddamned head! He had never
meant that she would enjoy it ... want it! The bitch! The dirty
slut-bitch! Suddenly, he began to slap with brutal, alternating
hands at the generous, wide-spread white mounds of her ass,
crashing swats that echoed and re-echoed throughout the room.
"Wiggle it, you stinking cochon! Keep it moving and fuck me
back, damn you, or I'll cut your heart out!" he screamed at her,
his powerful opened little hands flailing in rhythmic, wild blows
against the soft satiny flesh of her already angry-red ass cheeks.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Ginny cried and winced with every
painful smack against her sensitive buttocks, a violent shudder
rippling through her at this new demonical abasement. And even as
he continued, she felt him withdraw his prick to the glans, then
thrust it forward barbarically until his balls slapped with loaded
heaviness against the flowered slit of her cunt in one long,
racing stroke ... and the combined sensations were forcing her
into an unbelievable state of rapture.
"Go on, you monster! Fuck it! Beat me! Ram me! Any damned
thing you want! I love it ... you hear? Love it! Squirt your
filthy cum in my ass! I want you to! I want you to!" she
screamed back at him breathlessly.
Larreau's cock tingled as if charged with electric current;
his balls were alive with fire. He'd tried to inflict unbearable
pain upon her but she had accepted it and was asking for more! He
couldn't believe it! And ... and ... and then, he realized that
he was going to cum! He was going to shoot a torrent of sperm
into her lovely white American ass ... the ultimate subjugation
... except that she wanted it ... she wanted it! Damn her! But
he'd never had a woman like her ...! Christ, she was all that
he'd ever wanted ... wasn't she ...?
His brain was a turmoil. Her sudden obscene response to his
cruel beating and sodomy had suddenly inspired him like an infused
satyr. He reached down and pulled her ass-cheeks wide apart,
commencing to batter his pelvis against her soft, yielding,
reddened buttocks with inhuman whaps that bounced off his own ear-
drums. Perspiration from his sweating face dripped onto her
lovely hollowing back to make it glisten in the light. His
breathing came in short, puffing gasps, his eyes locked on the
whiteness of her quivering body that was slipping back over his
plunging cock with the snug delight of a fitted velvet glove. Mon
Dieu, he was losing all control over the situation, even as his
great shaft was growing unbelievingly. His sac hung heavy with
its bloated reservoir of sperm, and it had to be emptied soon or
he'd burst from the excruciatingly delicious pressure.
Ginny had reached the point where she was mumbling
unintelligibly beneath his pounding hips. She waived her ass
salaciously back against his unrelenting thrusts. She wanted him
to cum. She wanted him to squirt his heavy load of semen right
into her bowels. She wanted him to split her crotch wide open and
spill his sperm into her until she was completely immersed in its
delicious loveliness. She could feel a sopping wetness in the
crevice of her ass and any thought of pain had long since left her
... as had all other thoughts except that of his magnificent cock
battering her asshole. She dropped her shoulders to the floor so
that her near-glowing-red buttocks were raised even higher in the
air, and the ape-like, frenzied cudgel could fuck into her
completely unhindered.
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! It's time!" Larreau choked, tossing
back his head and grunting savagely as he thrust his cock's full
expanded length into her forever-stretched asshole, his ugly,
squat body beginning to jerk convulsively, his mouth falling open
slackly and he clawed at her waist and hips with harsh, clutching
fingers, pulling her buttocks even wider apart for his prick to
wedge yet another fraction of an inch into her.
"Fuck back! Fuck back!" he commanded her.
Ginny, beneath his pounding assault, felt the first exquisite
gushes of his hot, white cum splutter into the remote depths of
her rectum. It surged through her body with the torrential force
of a bursting dam, burning into her heaving belly like seething
liquid fire. The delicious sensation tripped her own climax and
she screamed as the great maelstrom of pleasure overwhelmed her
... until at last, she sensed rivulets of his hot, sticky sperm
running down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks to the slit of
her open, throbbing cunt ... and then he was withdrawing his
deflated member inside her ... and a welcomed cool rush of air
brushed and soothed the unplugged, inflamed hole of her anus as
she collapsed forward onto the floor, her breasts heaving
spasmodically against the rough nap of the carpet.
She lay, her face turned away from him, reality slowly
enveloping her once more as she heard him struggling to his feet,
his breathing coming heavily.
For a long moment, Gaston Larreau stared down at her
obscenely spread body, a blank expression on his ugly, round face,
and then slowly an evil little smile twisted at his rubbery lips.
He walked to her vanity and picked up a long handled hair-brush,
then returned to bend silently over her, and before she realized
what was happening he thrust the blunt-ended handle to the hilt
into her already tormented and enchafed rectum.
Ginny screamed with the shock of the vicious and torturing
empalement as the little czar, roaring with laughter, joggled
toward the door. There, he paused and turned to see her
struggling to her knees and reaching behind her to clutch at the
protruding end of the brush jutting out of her asshole. Once
more, he laughed gleefully.
"Why don't you just leave it in there, pig ... you look
natural with a tail," he spat.
"Goddamn you! You filthy bastard!" Ginny screamed, jerking
the implanted brush from her bottom and throwing it at him as he
closed the door behind him, the instrument smashing against it
harmlessly.
He was gone then, but she could still hear his laughter as he
walked down the hall and she threw herself forward onto the floor,
sobbing in near hysterics.
God Almighty! What's ever to become of me?
Chapter 6
Rafael Girarde was a handsome man by any measure of standard.
He was tall, broad shoul-dered and lean hipped, wore his well-cut,
tailored clothes with a flair, smiled broadly with an open, warm
expression, his discerning blue eyes spar-kling sincerely, his deep
masculine, resonant voice inspiring confidence. Madeleine was
particularly taken with his heavy shock of waved, greying hair,
the one single tell-tale of his fifty odd years.
She was surprised at his simple, lackluster office, knowing
his successful business capacity as an importer and owner of night
clubs through-out the city, as well as holding a post as Ministre
Of Gouvernment, say nothing of his luxurious home in Mont Royal
that she had only seen, of course, from the street. But in all,
she was most impressed by the way he made her feel, even after she
had told him who she was and why she was there ...
"Please, my dear, won't you sit down and be comfortable?" he
had offered coming from behind his cluttered desk to place his
hand on a chair in a gestured invitation.
Madeleine went to it and seated herself while M. Girarde
returned to his place behind the desk. She felt extremely tense
and had already begun to question whether she had done the right
thing by exposing herself this way ... but she'd not rushed into
it blindly, without considering Antoine's position. Earlier, she
had desperately tried to lead into the subject with her husband,
prepared to cleanse her conscience once and for all and beg him to
help her recover her child, but his indifferent and preoccupied
attitude had finally caused her to give up the idea. Instead, she
had struggled through coffee with him, kissing him at the door as
she handed him his briefcase, then hurriedly dressed, knowing
exactly what she was going to do. Whether Antoine had suspected
something was amiss she wasn't certain, nor hardly cared any
longer, but certainly their conversation had been strained and
he'd acted terrible edgy ...
"Well now ..." M. Girarde was saying with a pleasant smile,
"... you have already brightened my day to no end, Madame Poirier
... for at last, I understand why Igat is such a beautiful child
... her mother is a ravishing beauty."
Madeleine blushed immediately; she dropped her eyes in
sincere, if, gentle embarrassment. "You're most kind, M'sieu',
but I must admit that I don't feel very ravishing ... coming to
you with my sordid story this way ..."
"Ah, ma chere, but you mustn't degrade yourself over an
unfortunate affaire d'amour," said M. Girarde suavely. "How is it
they say ...? It is better to have loved and lost than never to
..."
"That was not the situation at all, M'sieu'," Madeleine
interrupted quickly. "I assure you, it was not ..."
Rafael Girarde shrugged his broad shoulders. "So ... what
difference," he said, his warm smile always prevalent. He leaned
back in his chair, joining his hands at fingertips. "How can I
help you, ma chere?"
Madeleine bit nervously at her lower lip, the ridiculousness
of her proposed request suddenly dawning on her. To entertain
even the remotest idea that these people would give up her baby
after all this time had been insane ... unreasonable ... for
weren't they more parents to her than she had ever been? In fact,
they were the only parents Igat had ever known ...! Yet, she
hadn't thought of it that way at all ... and now, faced with her
own irrational decision, she hardly knew what to do next.
"Well, Madame ...?" Girarde prodded gently.
"I-I don't know what to say, M'sieu'," she stammered.
Suddenly, she reached into her purse and found a small hanky to
dab at her nose as her dark eyes began to glisten behind her
tears. "It's ... it's my baby ... I miss her so ... want her so
... Oh God, M'sieu' Girarde, what can I do ..? I-I think I'll
lose my mind if I don't get her back ..."
Rafael Girarde barely moved; he studied this voluptuous girl
who had given birth to the child both he and his wife had come to
think of as their very own, the child they had purchased from a
drunken doctor without benefit of legal documents because his
barren wife's past narcotic history was a matter of record, and
enough to destroy any possibility of proper adoption. It'd had
been little Igat's entry into their family that had made the
Madame's recovery from her addiction possible, not that he really
cared a tinker's damn for the Madame, but he did have a certain
position to maintain as a Ministre Of Gouvernment, along with his
other enterprises, and having a dope fiend for a wife did little
toward enhancing that position. Now, as his keen eyes absorbed
the breathtaking loveliness of the desirable young woman seated
before him, his brain subconsciously registered the threat of her
presence, even as another section of his mind began to plot
lecherously.
"Can you believe, ma chere, that I can understand and
sympathize with you?" Rafael Girarde said in gentle tones. "They
say there is no bond stronger in this world than mother-love ...
but then, being a mother is more than just giving birth, is it not
...?"
"Please," Madeleine interrupted. "I-I realize I have no
right coming to you like this, M'sieu' ... but ... but my God ...
she is my baby, don't you see ...?"
At that moment, she broke down completely and Girarde made no
motion toward consoling her. The interlude gave him time to think
as well as an opportunity to ogle her sensuously inspiring
curvaceous body, while simultaneously he sensed a carnal stirring
at his loins. He smiled to himself, a barely perceptible little
gesture, while she wiped at her nose in an effort to regain her
composure. Finally, he stood and went to a small cabinet to bring
out glasses and a half-filled bottle of cognac. He poured lightly
and approached her, a glass in either hand.
"Drink this, ma chere, I believe it will help."
Hesitantly Madeleine accepted it and sipped.
God knows, she needed some sort of bracer at the moment.
She'd been a fool for coming here this way ... completely
stripping herself of pride ... and worst of all, now she had
exposed herself ... to say nothing of what it might do to Antoine
if he were to find out of her past through someone else ... Dear
God, she'd had to do something ... anything rather than keep her
tentative clandestine meeting with Uncle Gaston ... And then, the
thought of him pawing her with his fat, sweaty hands as he had the
night before, his wicked fingers inserted right up inside her
vaginal passage between her legs, almost nauseated her. Today, it
would be worse ... today, it would be everything, all the way;
he'd have no mercy ...
"Of course, Madame Poirier, you must understand that we ...
Madame Girarde and myself, regard Igat as our very own," he said,
never losing his gentleness of voice. "I'm certain you do
appreciate this ...?"
"Yes ... yes, I do appreciate it, M'sieu' and I know all that
you've done for her," Madeleine acknowledged. "Oh ... I know I
have no right to even hope ... but she's my baby ... if ... if I
could just see her once in awhile, perhaps for a very little time
each week ...?"
Girarde pursed his lips, his brow furrowing, as if he were
not too pleased with the idea. He said. "I'm not certain that
Madame Girarde would approve of you seeing her at all, ma chere
..."
"Could she be that cruel?" Madeleine put to him sharply.
"Ah oui, she could and undoubtedly would," replied Girarde,
finishing his cognac. "My wife is not what you would call a
considerate woman, however ..." He sat his glass on his desk and
approached her with outstretched hands.
Madeleine sensed a quickening of her pulse at the expressive
movement and as she fixed her eyes on his still beckoning hands,
she set down her glass and slowly arose, feeling that he was
bringing the interview to an end. He caught her hands in his and
held to them warmly as she raised her eyes to lock with his own,
both surprise and mild trepidation rippling over her.
"You ... you said, however ...?" Madeleine repeated.
Girarde nodded, smiling handsomely. "I was going to say that
something might be arranged ... between you and me ... excluding
Madame Girarde ... perhaps some private little tete-a-tetes once a
week ... quiet and ah ... shall we say, intimate, ma chere?"
Madeleine stared up into his face, her eyes widening in
shocked disbelief as the full impact of his meaning struck her
immediately. "M'sieu', my God ... what are you saying ...?"
"Ah, come now, Cheri," he said softly, continuing to smile as
he moved closer to her, his hands gently slipping to her narrow
waist. "Certainly nothing wrong with us enjoying a ... say, a
dinner one evening, eh? Where we might discuss arrangements more
in detail ...?"
"A-Arrangements ...?" Madeleine repeated, her face flushing
as the rage began to mount inside her. "M'sieu' ... you will
please remove your hands from me at once. Wh-What do you take me
for, anyway?"
Rafael Girarde chuckled lewdly and Madeleine detected the
lascivious gleam in his eyes. "Let's not play cat and mouse, ma
chere, I believe you've already established the answer to what you
are ... my only concern is the extent of your price, eh?"
The brunt of his words was like a blow across her cheek; she
actually staggered backward from it, even as he clutched at her
waist.
"Damn you!" she hissed. "Goddamn you! You dare speak to me
this way? Put your hands on me ...? My husband will kill you for
this insult! I swear ...!"
Girarde continued to chuckle, as if she hadn't spoken a word.
Finally, and calmly, he said: "Madame, I have a strange feeling
that your husband would be more apt to kill you ... if he knew the
truth ... if he knew the truth ... eh? Now, isn't that just a
little bit closer to the facts? The so-called nephew of our
country's infamous crime czar has no idea that his pretty little
wife is the mother of an illegitimate child ... or wouldn't you
care to answer that?"
Madeleine could do nothing, it seemed, but stare blankly at
him. She had totally misjudged him, and by so doing, had
compromised herself dangerously. For one brief moment, her legs
nearly wilted beneath her ... and then came the resurgence of
anger and rage that caused her to flail out at him wildly with
clawing hands as the tears gushed down her cheeks.
"You bastard!" she screamed, "You dirty rotten bastard!"
The sudden ferocity of her attack sent the handsome Ministre
floundering backward and sputtering obscenities of his own, his
retreat giving Madeleine the necessary time to break for the door,
and before he could stop her, she was beyond it, racing through
his office in a state of sobbing, emotional frenzy, to which M.
Girarde's matronly secretary leaped to her feet to stare after
her, then slowly turned to her employer with gaping, questioning
eyes.
"Mon Dieu, M'sieu'! What is wrong with her ... she was
almost hysterical ...?"
"Ohhh ... shut up and ... get back to work, eh?" M. Girarde
spat at her, going back into his office and slamming the door
behind him.
Chapter 7
Shortly, it began to rain and Madeleine walked aimlessly in
it. She had taken a cab to M. Girarde's office rather than to
drive and have to search out a parking place in downtown traffic,
and now in the aftermath of the degrading incident the Ministre Of
Gouvernment had subjected her to, she found herself wandering
erratically along hardly familiar streets, the summer downpour
nearly soaking her.
Dear God, in all of her young life she had never felt so
despondent ... so all alone as she did at that very moment. Where
could she turn? She had no one ... absolutely no one. There was
no way she could approach Antoine, or unburden her soul to him,
and subconsciously she had been aware of this all along, which was
undoubtedly the reason she had not done so already; he would never
understand ... never forgive her. She realized this to be a
certainty, now, for the first time. And M. Girarde, whom she had
misjudged entirely, he, too, was a vile beast, without the
slightest touch of compassion in his heart, God, she was destitute
for sympathy or a helping hand, and she must see her baby ... she
must, or lose her mind altogether!
So ... there remained but one course ... Uncle Gaston. Dear
God! Could she do it? She remembered the little ogre's words:
"You be 'nice' to me and I'll get your kid back for you ... make
Antoine accept it ... Girarde is a nothing ... a Ministre Of
Gouvernment, but a nothing. I'll get the child. I swear it ...
if you're 'nice' to me ..."
Oh God ... have mercy on me, she thought as she felt the
warmth of her tears even in the midst of the rain drops brushing
down her cheeks, and then, she raised her arm at the oncoming cab
and signaled it over to the curb.
* * *
"So, you finally decided to come," Gaston Larreau smirked
broadly at his adopted nephew's wife standing in the doorway of
his elegant, if, compact little downtown hideaway. "Took a bit of
time for you to make up your mind, eh?" He chuckled, a certain
licentious note prevalent in the sound. "Well ...? Don't stand
there, come inside. You look like a half drowned rat. What the
hell've you been doing, crawling in the gutter?"
With downward cast eyes, Madeleine entered and felt a cold
little chill ripple along her spine as he closed the door behind
her and locked it securely. But she didn't look at him; she
couldn't as yet. Again she heard him snigger deep in his throat.
"You better get those clothes off," he said matter-of-factly.
"You must be soaked to that pretty soft skin of yours. Wouldn't
want you catching a cold on my account, eh? Antoine would never
forgive me." This time, he laughed loudly.
She stood with her back to him, yet to speak her first word
since he'd answered her ring, and now he walked up to her,
slipping one arm around her waist affectionately, then letting his
hand slide down over the full round line of her hip and back to
smooth over her buttocks as he bent forward to peek up into her
face. She felt her flesh cringe and grow taut to his touch
beneath the clinging wet garments, and she steeled herself to keep
from bolting and screaming.
"Ah, chere, I see you've taken a more sensible outlook on
things today," he said, leering up at her. "Not quite to my
expectations ... but passable, temporarily. Now ... why don't you
run into the bedroom and undress so that we can get these clothes
dry. You'll find a choice of feminine wear to your liking ... but
don't overdue it, ma chere, eh? After all, you won't be needing
it long." He laughed. "Now, go ahead while I mix us a drink ..."
"U-Uncle Gaston ... please ... I-I ..." Madeleine started,
hesitantly, the fear and shame distorting her lovely face
obviously even to him.
He surprised her then by taking her firm, pointed chin
delicately in his pudgy hand and raising it. "Look, Cheri, don't
be afraid. I'll protect you ... and I'll get your baby for you,
just as I promised last night, but ... but you must be good to
me," he said, moving in close to her, both arms encircling her
while his hands cupped familiarly the full round orbs of her lush
buttocks. Playfully, he squeezed, massaged and joggled them in
his fat little hands, while a degrading sensation of
incestuousness raced through her; then, he drew her tight to him,
pressing his massive belly against her own flat one, his heavy
thighs crowding hers, and the hardness of his obviously jerking
member grinding into her pelvis. At equal height, his lips sought
hers hungrily, and closing her eyes to shut out the sight, she
suddenly felt his wet, open mouth ravenously suck in her soft
lips, while his thick tongue brushed over them, then crashed
brutally between them into her mouth and throat.
Madeleine didn't fight him; instead, just as she had closed
her eyes to the sight of him, she now closed her mind to his
actual existence and the despicable, nauseating things he was
doing to her. One thought, and one thought alone filled her
repulsive mind ... Igat ... her own little Igat ...!
Dear God, forgive me ... forgive me ...
"Please ...?" she managed at last, gently pushing back from
him. "L-Let me get these ... these wet things off ..."
He backed away, smiling crookedly, displaying his gold teeth.
"Oui, oui, but hurry, chere, I think it's about ready to burst a
blood vessel, eh?" He laughed obscenely and watched her walk
quickly into the bedroom, closing the door. He called after her:
"I'll mix us a drink ..."
Madeleine lay back against the closed door, her hand
immediately going to cover her face as a sob burst from her
throat. Her mind suddenly raced backward in time to a similar
horror in her life in a shabby little motel at Riviere du Loup and
a chilling sliminess crept over her, causing her whole body to
tremble repugnantly. Mother of God! She couldn't go through with
it! She just couldn't ...! There was no way ...! Yet, even as
her tormented mind churned in painful turmoil, she was unzipping
her dress from behind and stepping out of it ... choking back
little convulsive gasps as she lifted her slip over her head ...
whimpering to herself while simultaneously she stepped out of her
shoes, then, rolled her pantyhose down over her lush round hips
and buttocks, finally lowering herself to the bed where she could
more easily slide them along the long white columns of her legs
... and the tears continued to dribble in fine rivulets down her
lovely cheeks. She stood, then, and reaching behind with both
hands, unhooked her bra to let it slip away and reveal her
trembling, full, erect breasts, while a cool rush of air brushed
over them causing their tiny nipples to tauten of their own
volition. She emitted one last little sob as she stared at the
reflection of her soft, naked, voluptuousness in the full-length
wall-mirror, realizing suddenly that her natural instinct had been
the superior force dominating and guiding her hands ... that all
other self protecting emotions were subservient to this most
natural of inborn proclivities ... and abruptly she raised her
chin in a gesture of defiance, her deep dark eyes leaping to life
with a sparkling glint of determination ... She could and would do
anything to get her Igat back! Nothing or no one else mattered
... especially herself! Yes, she could and she would ...!
The door opened suddenly and Uncle Gaston entered, drinks in
his hands, only to stop short as he gaped in breathtaken
dazzlement at the magnificent splendor of her unexpected nakedness
before him.
Madeleine, hardly use to even the thought of her determined,
if, artificial sang-froid, fell backward a step with the shock,
grabbing up her sheer slip to hold it protectively in front of her
beneath her chin.
"Jesus Christ!" Uncle Gaston gasped. His mouth hung open as
if hinged, his little colorless eyes beading excitedly as they
fell to the almost completely exposed delightful extremities of
her rounded soft white thighs and tapering calves below the short
silken garment she held raised protectively. "Y-You're beautiful,
Cheri ... Goddamn ...! Beautiful ...!"
Madeleine couldn't speak; she stared at him in immediate
wild-eyed confusion, the first waves of shame and fear taking
precedent over all else, and then, as he slowly began to move
toward her, she automatically retreated ... forgetting that only
the bed lay strategically behind her.
The drinks in his hands forgotten, Larreau set them on a
table, never taking his hungry, lecherous eyes from her.
Spontaneously, his thick tongue darted out to lick at his dry,
rubbery lips as he continued to close slowly in on her.
In near terror now, Madeleine's eyes screamed her fright at
him while her brain raced in wild chaos as she backed ever closer
to the bed, her head beginning to wag negatively, causing her
still damp, long raven tresses to brush about her shoulders in
mild frenzy. At last, a word formed on her lips and she blurted
it out: "N-No ...! No ...! No ...!"
Larreau was already breathing heavily while his eyes devoured
the outlined contours behind the clinging, almost gossamery slip
she held in front of her, a flickering sight of black, silken,
pubic hair at the joined apex between her thighs briefly catching
his eye her every backward step. Again, he ran his tongue over
his lips.
"Be nice," he hissed, "That's all, Cheri ... just be nice ...
like we agreed, eh ...? Everything'll be all right ... I swear it
will ... Maybe ... maybe, you'll even like it if you give yourself
a chance ... I'll be gentle ... and ... and you be nice ... okay
...?"
"Oh ... Oh God! U-Uncle Gaston ... God Almighty, I can't
...! Oh please, I just can't ...!" She let out a scream of
surprise then, the edge of the bed catching her behind the knees
and she fell backward, her legs spreading apart as she lost her
balance, the delectable sight of the tight pink slit in her
sparse, hair-lined loins sending a licentious charge of lust
jolting through him and quickly he forced his knees between her
scissored thighs, clutching at them so that she could not slither
or roll away from him while he knelt upright above her.
Madeleine let off a choking gasp and clung insanely to the
slip that covered her breasts and stomach, entirely unaware that
her crotch was completely exposed to him, and she continued to
toss her head wildly in her fear and shame as abruptly, she
realized the hopelessly entrapped position she was in.
"Oh God, stop! Stop it this minute!" she cried, futilely
attempting to squirm from beneath him. "You can't ...! I won't
let you! Mother of God, think of Antoine, Uncle Gaston ...!"
"And you think of your kid!" he shot at her.
"I know ... I know ... but there must be some other way ..."
"There's no other goddamned way!" he spat viciously. "I'm
going to fuck you, damn your luscious young ass! I'm going to
bury my cock in that tight little pussy hole of yours if it's the
last thing I ever do, you hear me?"
Madeleine froze beneath him. Her mouth fell open loosely,
her eyes glazing behind the blur of her tears as the horrid filth
he had spewed caused a wave of loathing horror to surge through
her. And then, she felt his fat, sweaty little hand with
unbelievable tenderness sliding along the white, satiny smooth
flesh of her inner-thigh, and she cringed to its touch as it moved
ever upward toward the dark fringed juncture where it brushed and
pressed skillfully against the fleshy hair-lined lips of her
sensitive vagina, causing an uncontrollable little moan to escape
her.
"Ohhhhh, no, Uncle Gaston ... no, no ... it's wrong ... so
wrong ..." she whimpered vainly.
Larreau ignored her pleas, hardly hearing her as with his
other hand he gently tugged the covering of her slip from her
reluctant grasp, his breath catching in his throat at the
enthralling spectacle of her round, full breasts standing proud
and firmly erect, their small ruby-like nipples distending from
the unwanted manipulations of his hand between her thighs.
"There now, Cheri, that's better," he said, bending down for
a closer look at the thin, pink, hairline split running the length
of her open crotch through the ovaled milk-white spheres of her
buttocks pressed tightly to the mattress. He sucked in his breath
at the unbelievable sight before him, her little agonized moan of
degradation falling on deaf ears. He'd fucked and raped many
luscious young creatures, but never anything like this; never
anyone so tender, so lovely, so proud. The mere thought of her
helpless, involuntary moans of pleasure tumbling from those soft
red lips taunted his prick into a stone hardness. He could feel
the blood pounding almost painfully into its massive, expanded
head; he felt the small thick drops of seminal fluid already
seeping from the sensitive glans at its tip, smearing wetly
against his thigh. Christ, his own nephew's wife! Just the
incestuous thought was inspiring a form of sadistic delight such
as he'd never known before, initiating an actual ache in his cock
... until he was forced to open the fly of his trousers to ease
the pain. Then, using thumbs pressed to either side of her
fleshy, hair-shadowed cunt-lips, he tenderly spread the vertical
aperture until its moist, pink loveliness flowered open to him,
and his mouth fell agape at its sparkling jewel-like majesty. He
felt her warm, soft, inner-thighs quiver uncontrollably to the
backs of his hands and heard her breath hitch deep down in her
gasping throat, followed by a half-choking moan.
Madeleine, her shame and degradation even greater with the
sudden realization that his depraved manipulations at her
sensitive genitals were causing incredulous prurient sensations to
tingle unwantedly through her, moaned aloud in emotional agony and
an unbelievable growing sensual desire; tiny electric-like shocks
began to ripple along the satiny flesh of her legs, and she again
squirmed her buttocks down into the softness of the bed, her moan
dissolving into a near helpless whimper as his fingers taunted the
moist slit of her tender vagina.
Oh God, no ... no! It's wrong ... wrong! I can't let him do
these things to me ... Dear God! Please ... no ... nooooo ...
Expertly, Larreau leaned even closer into her delightful
naked loins, and with the tip of his tongue opened the soft and
delicate inner petals enshrining her clitoris. He felt the erotic
shock of his oral touch surge through her convulsively.
"Oooohhhh, Mother of God! What are you doing?" Madeleine
gasped, jerking her head erect to stare down with gaping eyes
between her proud, rotund breasts at his lowered, balding head
buried in her crotch. Then, his colorless little eyes were
looking up over the sparsely silken, hair-covered mound and
smiling at her sadistically. "Ooohhh, Mon Dieu!" she gasped and
twitched as his hot, moist lips closed over the soft mound there
at the base of her belly in plain sight. Then, once more, his
entire face disappeared from her view into the soft fleece between
the thighs he was raising upward and pressing back toward her
breasts while he planted wet, taunting kisses on the closed thin
furrow, his tongue flicking lizard-like at the now quivering
opening.
Madeleine gasped with a breathless, almost hissing sound
beneath his tantalizing abuse, her elbows pressed tightly against
her ribs and her head rolling from side to side in utter
desperation as suddenly, his hot searing tongue shot out, its soft
flicking tip circling her pulsing erected clitoris.
Oh Dear God!
The lips sucked, drawing the warm, soft folds deep into the
cavern of his gently biting mouth, while his tongue continued its
maddening licking against the urgent pink smoothness of her now
opened sex.
Antoine! Antoine! Mon Dieu, help me, Cheri!
She felt the hot gushes of his breath graze her sensitive,
secret flesh and she moaned aloud in her shame, her head still
raised; she caught at her breath as she heard him grunt, then felt
the full length of his long, hot tongue slide wetly up into her
disgraced, palpitating vagina.
"Ohhhh, please ... no, don't! Not even Antoine has ever done
that to me. Blessed Mother ... I beg you, stop, please ... please
... Oooohhhh!"
Her body responded automatically, jerking with convulsive
lurches, loud groans emitting from her chest as her buttocks
ground again and again downward in an effort to escape the bestial
outrage he was committing upon her defenseless genitals. Her
stomach churned in veritable repulsion and she wailed loathingly
as his tongue slithered in and out of her unwanting pussy in wild
animallike fury.
"Damn you! Damn you!" she groaned in her debased humiliation
and to Larreau's delight, as her head began to wag insanely while
she kept it raised in disbelieving horror to watch his violent
assault. She couldn't believe it! She couldn't! Yet, she knew
it was happening as she felt his long, seething tongue race up
into her unreceptive, yet rapidly dilating cunt. "Ohhhhh, dear
Jesus ... please, Uncle Gaston ... I beg you ... stop ... stop,"
she pleaded feebly in her degraded shame as unwanted twinges of
vile pleasure began to pervade her whole body from his depraved
animallike tonguing of her moist, quivering slit.
Larreau worked hungrily, feeling the soft, wet, pubic hair
brushing his cheeks tauntingly. He had completely opened the
front of his pants, pushing them and the silk shorts beneath them,
down, and now he slowly massaged the heavy thick foreskin back and
forth over the jerking head as he continued spearing his hot,
flicking tongue deep into her cunt. When he had first laid eyes
on her the day Antoine had brought her home, he knew then that
he'd have her for his own pleasure, but he'd never dreamed it
would be such a simple coup, such an enrapturing, satisfying
seduction ... and now, here she lay, squirming wantonly beneath
his tongue and completely at his mercy ... yet to realize how much
she was loving it ... but that would come ... that would come, and
soon ... he was confident of it.
He let his hands slip up over her smooth, flat belly to the
full, firm flesh of her nipple-hardened breasts, cupping and
squeezing them teasingly while his mouth and tongue performed
lasciviously at the wide-spread split down between her legs with
wet, obscene sucking sounds that filled the room, and again,
Madeleine saw his eyes locked sadistically on her defiled,
tormented face, waiting for her total surrender to his vile
debasement of her pride and morals as well as her betraying body.
She clenched her small hands into fists, her arms drawn back
so that her hands were nearly touching her shoulders, as were her
knees near touching her throbbing breasts, her entire, vibrant,
naked flesh steeled against the perverted abuse he was forcing her
helpless body to endure. She was trapped; there was nothing she
could do; he could have his way with her, but she would never
allow herself to willingly submit ... never! Never! She had to
fight him, if only in the subjugation of her defenseless body, she
thought, as he continued to suck insanely at her crotch, trying
desperately to keep her brain from acknowledging the wild,
blissful sensations coursing maddeningly through her every vein,
muscle and cord from his carnally depraved, oral outrage.
Vaguely, she recalled the few times Antoine had started to
make love to her this way, and how she had immediately stopped him
because M. Keel had ran his tongue up through her and she'd never
forgotten the depraved ecstasy of such love ... had Antoine only
been a man and insisted. Truly, she had never known such
enrapturing delight ... but she must keep control of herself ...!
She mustn't give herself to this debauched, incestuous pig who was
humiliating her beyond her wildest imagination ... when there was
absolutely nothing she could do but lie beneath him and accept
whatever degradation he chose to inflict upon her! Oh dear God!
My Antoine ... forgive me my darling ...! Oh ...! Oooohhh ...!
Her groans drove Larreau's tongue faster and faster as it
worked its way up and down the throbbing, pulsing lips of her
tortured cunt. Yes, yes! She was going to beg and plead for his
cock before he was finished with her. Even now, she was hotter
than most women ever dreamed of getting, but she was inwardly
still trying to fight it. He could almost laugh aloud ... if his
tongue and mouth weren't so damned occupied. Fight it, bitch!
You're too far beyond the point already to struggle against
anything I decide to do ... and I can conceive weird, erotic
approaches and positions we might try upon your lovely docile,
desire-wracked body ... and very, very soon.
He could not keep from gloating as suddenly her hands were
toying about his head, her long fingers caressing it while moans
continued to emit from her incessantly. And then, all of a
sudden, she was no longer toying but clutching as the moans
tumbled from her lips in a rhythmic chant, her head rolling from
side to side ... and then, she was clawing at his naked scalp,
grasping at his ears in an attempt to guide his face to the small
palpitating opening of her vagina. He plunged his tongue into the
soft hair-rimmed flesh, taunting it momentarily, then quickly
withdrawing it to tantalize the ragged pink edges.
She cried out in her confused need and clutched at him,
forcefully pressing his mouth directly over the tight little hole
in her squirming crotch.
Once more, he complied, ramming his tongue deep down into it,
rounding his lips and covering the clasping viscous opening to
bring a low guttural groan from this lovely creature whose warm
soft thighs were closing spasmodically around either side of his
head. He could feel the wet, velvety cuntal-flesh slip moistly
around his long extended tongue as the delicate walls of her
invaded vagina opened and closed in an unmistakable hungry sucking
motion, attempting to draw his tongue deeper and deeper into it.
It seemed to him that the nibbling, hair-lined pussy was suddenly
endeavoring with a separate lust of its own to extract his tongue
by the roots and devour it entirely. Her heels began to
involuntarily push down against his back, pressing his obese body
into the soft, quivering flesh trap between her wide-spread,
uptilted legs. His nose was tight against her trembling clitoris
and with every inhalation he sensed the poignant aromas of her
ever increasing lustful, lubricious state. Christ! Its delicate
piquancy was driving his cock to an impossible hardness, an
erection that was near-aching and throbbing with the ferocity of
an exposed nerve in a tooth. He had to fuck the little bitch
soon, else, he was certain, his balls would blow apart!
Madeleine's voluptuously naked body was completely swept up
in the enchanting rapture overwhelming her. Her brain whirled in
tormented delight as hazily she realized that she was rapidly
losing all physical control beneath this lewd and depraved outrage
Antoine's own uncle was committing upon the most secret places at
her crotch. Every muscle of her sex-incited being was tensed as
she strained her hips upward toward the maddening debauchery
between her legs.
Oh Antoine ... my love ... my darling ... I'm lost ... lost!
He has mesmerized me! I cannot stop now ... I can't ... I can't!
If only you had been the first, my darling ... Oh, why didn't you
tell me it was like this! Ooohhh ... Oooohhh ... Oooohhh ...! I
... I think I'm going to ... to burst with ecstasy ...!
And then, thoughts of Antoine licking and thrusting his
tongue up into her warm, waiting cuntal passage excited her even
more. Her drawnup legs opened and closed around the tormenting
head controlling the ravenous, slashing tongue that was licking at
her passion-seared hole. The cords of her neck stood out in
strained relief as she clawed and pulled at his head savagely,
splaying her shapely long legs out wider and wider to the sides,
allowing him greater access.
Her body had deserted her; it was his to do with as he
pleased; Madeleine realized this with debased certainty as he
slipped his hands beneath her quivering buttocks and pulled them
up to him with brutal authority. They jerked and spasmed of their
own volition beneath the plunging tongue sending wild erotic jolts
of never-before experienced sensations surging through her love-
neglected body. And then, suddenly, she felt his tongue flick
from her vagina downward toward the solemnly private little
puckered hole of her anus. She stiffened ... wanted to scream ...
but instead she moaned in rapture at the surprising, wet, seething
contact of his pleasure-giving tongue with the forbidden,
sensitive orifice. She closed her eyes and licked at her lips in
the sensual delight racing wildly through her body.
Responsively, she cried: "Oh don't ... don't, Uncle Gaston
... Mon Dieu!" even as she rolled her hips and tried to screw her
taunted rectum back onto his stiff probing tongue.
Larreau could stand it no longer. Suddenly, he knelt up and
tore the clothes from his grotesque body while she lay beneath him
with closed eyes and tossing head, helpless mewls and whimpers
erupting from her throat constantly as she awaited his next move
with almost ungovernable impatience. His cock jerked and throbbed
insanely. He grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees,
thrusting them roughly back against her shoulders, slithering his
squat, corpulent body up her sweat-coated flesh simultaneously.
His rigid, cavorting prick brushed teasingly against the wetness
of her sparse, soft pubic hair. He splayed his pudgy hands beside
both of her shoulders and forced her legs up and back until her
ankles were locked obscenely behind his neck. He gaped down
between their bodies and saw her upturned crotch and the
magnificence of her ivory-white buttocks completely exposed to
him.
The expanded, narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing, the
wet, coral furrow held wide apart by the pressure of his thighs
tightly up against her own.
"Now, my little Cheri, I'm going to fuck you," Larreau said
down to her, a lewd smile twisting his round, evil face. "Oui ...
I'm going to fuck and fuck you until that little cunt of yours
screams for mercy, eh?"
Madeleine lay beneath him in a sensuously hypnotic state, her
eyes fixed on the movements of his ugly mouth spouting the obscene
words at her, their vile salaciousness echoing excitingly against
the walls of her erotically steeped brain, even as she still
fought feebly to control this gradual subjugation of her mind.
Her body had betrayed her, but she must somehow maintain control
of her wits. Oh, dear God in heaven ...! It's useless; Useless!
She could feel the fleshy hugeness of his lust-hardened cock
lying the full length of her open, quivering vaginal slit. The
jerking, rubbery head of his cock lay palpitating between her
wide-spread buttocks, insinuating itself in a rising and falling,
sawing motion, a maddening tease that caused her to grind her hips
down toward it, her agonized pussy searching hungrily for its
turgid blood-filled tip.
My God! I've got to have it inside me! My body is screaming
for its hot, throbbing hardness! Oh, Antoine ... Antoine ...
forgive me ... but I must have it inside me! Must! Must! Must!
In a near frenzy, Madeleine groped with her hands beneath the
cheeks of her raised ass to grasp the unbelievable length of his
rock-hard shaft. She gasped in awe as her fingers encircled it,
unable to go fully around it, and momentarily a little spasm of
fright trickled through her, but then her tightly closed hands
began caressing it tenderly ... almost reverently, and she sensed
its convulsive jerk against her soft palms, and the viscid fluid
that oozed in droplets from its lust-inflated head. She
maneuvered it up the vale separating the soft, full, vibrant moons
of her buttocks, never allowing it to lose contact with her flesh,
and then she adjusted it between the ravenously lubricated lips of
her voracious vagina. She held it in place with one hand while
the other clutched at his hip in her effort to pull it into her,
that it might satisfy the gnawing, hot, lust burning all the way
into her belly.
Larreau could not resist the temptation to taunt as she began
to squirm and writhe beneath him, lifting her magnificent
sparsely-haired loins up toward the bulging head of his prick that
lay with only its tip inside the moist, fleshy lips of her cunt,
even though he had all he could do to keep from plunging into her,
but his sadistic desire to torment couldn't be denied. Shortly,
he'd empty his load of white, hot sperm into her steaming hole,
but at the moment, he must taunt her ... and he did ... listening
to her pleading moans to be taken ... watching her beautiful,
almost virginal ass twist and jerk in its craving beneath him ...
Then, he flicked his hips forward.
Madeleine winced audibly as she felt the lips around her
throbbing vagina forced open. Its elastic rimmed tightness
resisted momentarily, then gave way before the sharp, brutal
pressure. The sudden, unexpected agony shattered her ecstatic
sensations with the finality of a well-placed bullet and
mechanically she found herself trying to resist the penetration,
squealing a throaty wail at the same time.
Gaston Larreau reveled in that. Her painful cries sent
sadistic chills of delight surging through him. But they were not
enough; he wanted to hear her scream for mercy! He couldn't
endure the waiting any longer! He rammed into her with a brutal
thrust of his hips, a momentary, contemptuous thought of his
nephew dancing through his brain as he sunk his lust-hardened cock
all the way in to his pelvis, his sperm-bloated balls slapping
resoundingly against her twitching anus while she ground her
frantically squirming buttocks down violently into the mattress in
her attempt to escape the cruel, instantaneous impalement.
She screamed! Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his
amorphous bulk and kicked, toes curling futilely, in the air.
"Jesus, God! Noooo! You're splitting me apart! Stop!
Please ...!" Madeleine choked, her naked, white, curvaceous body
pinned helplessly to the bed as though empierced there by a great
blunt-headed stake, and she quickly learned that with her every
resistant jerk the massive head burrowed deeper and deeper into
her.
The little czar's outstretched arms pinioned her tightly
beneath him, while his wide-spread knees held her thighs apart to
their near fullest extent. She was certain that her soft, tender
body was being ripped from her navel to her anus and she'd die
right there from this giant cudgel imbedded deep, deep in her
sensitive vagina. The burning, pole-like shaft felt as though it
would burst through her entrails and into her throat as its
swollen head battered hard against her cervix, jarring and
scrambling the thoughts in her brain as the monstrous thing
pummeled into her.
Larreau gaped at her from above with a licentious smirk
twisting his ugly features. Mon Dieu! In his lifetime he
couldn't remember a more fulfilling seduction. His own adopted
nephew's wife! Once more, the mere incestuous thought elated him
... and this wouldn't be the end ... not by a damned sight! There
would be more such occasions ... many, many more ... God, yes! He
looked at her innocent young face, contorted now from the
viciousness of his first fiendish stab. Delightful! Delightful!
He must train her well ... teach her to suck him and submit
occasionally to the belt. Oui, oui ... the belt! Striping that
magnificent ass ... ahhhh! He grinned widely as her lips curled
back from her white, even teeth, incoherent whimpers emitting from
the depths of her throat. Her arms were outstretched between
them, palms against his hips, and he chuckled as he watched her
attempting to hold back the blunt, hard knob pressing against the
tiny mouth of her womb like a great heavy stone.
Suffer, you little bitch, he thought sadistically as he held
her pinned helplessly in the obscene, humiliating position. He
glanced down once more to see his curly graying pubic hair
entangled tightly with her own silken, raven strands, the base of
his thick fleshy cock barely showing from its submerged depths in
her pink, throbbing cunt ... the very same hole that his tongue
had licked to moist, craving receptiveness only a few moments
before. He could see the tight, hair-lined lips stretched almost
to the ripping point, the spongy, outer coral rim clasping tightly
about the white skinned origin of his massive prick.
He smiled again to himself, holding her there for a moment,
savoring the spectacle of her beautiful impaled loveliness speared
helplessly beneath him, with his heavy prick sunk deep in her
smooth white belly. Damn! He wished her husband, the stupid
parasite punk, could see her now, spread-eagle beneath his crime-
boss uncle! Maybe, he wouldn't think he was too good for his dear
old Uncle Gaston, then, eh ... too good and too smart for the man
who had taken him in, raised and educated him? Ah no, Gaston
Larreau wasn't fooled by the young smart-ass's glib tongue or
pretensive ways ... not by a damned sight. The little punk blamed
him for his parents' death and he was certain of that. Antoine
would sell him out in a minute if he knew how ... and if he dared
... but he'd never have that chance ... any more than this
luscious little cochon would ever get away from him again ... But
how he wished her cockroach husband could see her now, screaming
and yelling beneath him. Mon Dieu! What pleasure that would
bring him ...
Madeleine squirmed helplessly beneath him. Her ecstasy of
only moments before had left her, giving way to the searing pain
his brutal weapon had introduced into her loins and sent racing
madly through her whole body. She couldn't think logically with
the splitting agony of it; nothing mattered but the torment that
was immediately absorbing her. He moved but slightly and she
could feel the searching hot pain of his inhuman shaft tearing
cruelly at her insides from between her legs. She flexed her
vaginal muscles tightly together in an attempt to hold off the
huge, invading spears, but the throb of her internal sinews seemed
to incite the fleshy monster and it plowed its way deeper and
deeper into her vainly resisting channel. She felt the walls of
her cringing cunt clasp around it like a gloved hand. She sensed
its every spongy ridge as her nerve-ends transmitted its enormous
form in minute detail to her tormented brain.
Mother of God! Its growing inside me!
The hard, rubbery tip pressed relentlessly against her
cervix, the ridged blood-engorged tissues along its length, the
tickling hairs of his bloated balls in the wide-spread crevice of
her ass, were all suddenly a part of her. She had become one with
it, and in spite of her pain her tongue snaked out to lick almost
masochistically at her dry lips. Abruptly, the pungent odors of
their coupling stung her flaring nostrils, even as his throbbing
cock lodged deeper into her soft, white belly. She must be losing
her mind entirely ... for in heaven's name there had never been
anything like this before ... and maybe never again ... only this
very moment! God forgive her! Antoine forgive her! Igat ...
yes, yes, Igat! She was doing it for Igat! Now she remembered as
her cunt contracted involuntarily around the magnificent breadth
and length of his great prick buried to the hilt inside her
suddenly wanting belly ...
Larreau felt, then, the slight fluttering pressure exerted
against his aching prick. He'd waited patiently for it, knowing
from experience that it would come. He hovered motionless above
her prostrate form, waiting, waiting, knowing that eventually she
would become accustomed to his bulky presence submerged in her
vagina ... and she had: her whimpers of pain lessened and the
obese little Frenchman began a slow revolving motion with his
pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked crotch, expanding
the still cringing walls of her channel until her whimpers became
whining little mewls that she couldn't seem to contain.
"Oh," she moaned through clenched teeth.
Larreau waited a moment, then flexed once more as he watched
her face beneath him. Her mouth fell limply open, her eyes
clenched tightly shut.
"Ooaaaaahhhhh," she gasped, then held her breath as the
buried cock expanded more, stretching the narrow passage walls
ever apart.
He chuckled lewdly and flexed again, setting a deliberate
teasing rhythm to his throbs. He watched her nostrils flaring to
the tempo. At last, soft purling sounds of rapture escaped from
her open mouth in cadence with his provoking ministrations.
"Oh ... oh ... ohhh ... Oui ... Oui ..." she moaned.
He sensed her urgent answering throbs begin around the head
of his cock. Her moist, clasping channel had begun a soft opening
and closing as it swallowed around his pulsating rod of flesh. He
didn't move, but continued the spaced, tantalizing prick-flexing
inside the impaled girl beneath him. Then, he lowered his lips to
wetly kiss hers and her whole body began to twitch and writhe
under him as she groaned incessantly up into his mouth, thrusting
her tongue with sudden complete abandon deep into his throat. Low
hums of passionate, servile acceptance came in torrents from deep
in her chest, her beautiful face twisting with re-incited erotic
passion, her neck straining as a light film of sweat formed on her
forehead under the now disheveled, long raven hair. He drew his
lips away and her head began to loll from side to side, while her
hips began a slow uncontrollable undulation around his vibrating
prick. Suddenly, her hungry nibbling cunt screwed itself up
tighter against his hair-covered pelvis and he was forced to
clench his teeth tightly in an effort to control his threatening
climax.
There was no longer pain, Madeleine reasoned hazily. Her
body, of its own volition, was responding. A maddening electric-
like tingle had burst into existence inside her cunt and spiraled
through every nerve of her vibrant flesh ... and she never wanted
it to end.
Larreau grazed his hands down her sides and slid them beneath
the soft, satiny spheres of her moving buttocks. They reacted
with a flexing motion to his touch, oozing around his fingers as
he pressed his hands tightly into them. He hauled her tighter to
his loins and felt her drawing her thighs back a little more, the
moist, lubricated hole of her cunt flowering open in reception of
his cock to greater and greater depths. The cords in her neck and
thighs were taut with her desire as she writhed in under him from
the enormity of her building sensations.
"So, Cheri, tell me now ... is it good, eh?" he hissed down
at her.
"Ooooohhh ... Ooohhhhh," she groaned with closed eyes, not
wanting to acknowledge his question.
He ceased all motion then and said: "Maybe, you would have me
stop?"
Her deep dark eyes burst open to plead up at him. "Oh ...
Ooohhh, no, no ... s'il vous plait, M'sieu' ... Mon Dieu!"
"You don't want me to stop, then, eh?" he said, grinning
lasciviously. "You like my big cock in your cunt want me to fuck
you is that right?"
"Oooohhh ... oui, oui ..." she whimpered in shame, aware now
that all control, both physical and mental, had left her, the vile
sound of the lewd words increasing her excitement even more so.
"Then, beg me, Cheri! Beg your Uncle Gaston to fuck your
little cunt-hole!" he taunted wickedly, at the same time grinding
his shaft once more into her moist, vibrant pussy.
Even in this sensually wanton state she had come to,
Madeleine's subconscious struggled. Oh ... it was wrong, wrong
... so wrong! Yet, she wanted it ... had to have it now! Once
more, she tossed her head from side to side, her face twisted in
her mental anguish. Everything decent thought inside her rebelled
and shrank from this vile command ... excluding her throbbing
loins, and therein lay her heart and soul at that very moment.
She bit at her lower lip until she tasted the saltiness of her own
blood, then felt the tears spilling down her cheeks.
"So? Beg me, damn you!" Larreau snarled, digging his fingers
cruelly into the softness of her smooth, white ass-cheeks. "Now!
I say! Beg! Beg! Beg!"
"Ooohhh, oui, oui ... I beg you ... I beg ... you ..."
"Say it! Say fuck me, Uncle Gaston! Fuck my little cunt-
hole with your big, beautiful cock! Hurry, say it!"
"Oooohhh, Mon Dieu ... Oui ... oui ... Fuck me, Uncle Gaston
..."
"The rest! Say the rest!"
"F-Fuck my little ... cunt-hole w-with your big, beautiful
cock! Oh ... oui! Fuck me ... fuck me!" she stammered, then
blurted the words, the sudden thought of her own lips spewing such
obscenities for the first time in her life sending a new
licentious thrill swirling through her, and she began to revolve
her hips in lewd circles around his thick, rigid cock lustfully,
her vagina dilating in tempo to its rhythmic pulsing.
"Ah, oui ... you're going to be a good pupil, ma chere," the
elated, ugly little man crooned as she whined passionately up at
him. "And I'll teach you all of the beauty of fucking and
sucking, eh? Make you happy like this all of the time ... It is
beautiful, no?"
"Oh ... oh, oui, oui! Beautiful ... beautiful ...! Please
... don't ever stop!"
Larreau chuckled in evil delight. He said: "As you wish, ma
chere, I won't stop, but you must learn to work harder, eh?"
Immediately, he sensed her response as might an eager student
to his teacher; he felt her pelvis begin screwing up against the
length of his colossal lead-hard rod, the tiny contracting muscles
within her cunt nibbling hungrily at the inflated head. The
dilated lips of her hair-lined coral slit pulled maddeningly away,
slipping moistly down the shaft for several inches, then munched
their way back up, buffering her soft, shadowy-down tightly
against his own pubic hair, embedding the full length of him deep
into her warm, white belly. He remained unmoving, resting above
her with his hands splayed on either side of her shoulders, his
knees pressed tight to the mattress. He let her quaking body ride
up and down at will on his rigid cock that bridged them together.
He watched intensely its slow withdrawal between them,
extracting thin ridges of her pink flesh out with it as she
screwed her buttocks down into the mattress, then pushing the
velvety, coral folds back into her as the glistening length was
absorbing deep into the palpitating, salacious hole. He let her
strain against him for awhile, watching the utter abandon of her
efforts, a dazed, ecstatic smile playing around her lips. Damn,
he thought, she was going to make an excellent pupil, and then he
began to fuck into her, sawing gently and rhythmically with his
mighty cock. He grinned to himself as she began to whimper in
cadence with his thrusts, and he felt the slap of his balls
against the tight, unprotected crevice of her anus. Christ, what
a delightful creature! She overwhelmed him! His brain raced
wildly. It was time for further education ... education and
subjugation of his nephew's lovely little wife ...!
Madeleine rolled her head in delighted, unequivocal bliss,
the last twinges of pain long gone from her passion-filled body,
her legs on either side of his thick impaling cock quivering and
twitching spasmodically in unrestraint, as her tongue slithered in
and out of his ugly mouth in an oral fucking semblance, while
velvety sounds of rapture gurgled deep down in her throat. Never
... never in her life had there been anything like this! From his
sucking and licking of her cunt to this very moment with his huge
cock penetrating the very mouth of her womb, filling her belly to
complete capacity ... and she learned that by tensing her thighs,
straining the muscles and cords of her neck and back, writhing her
loins up tight against him, that the intenseness of her ecstasy
was almost deliciously unbearable.
Mon Dieu! She could not yet accept the thought that such
magnificent sensations could come from lying beneath a man and
being fucked against her will ... from committing adultery ...
yet, it was true ... it was true!
Larreau had begun to pummel into her with increasing force,
lengthening his stroke as well as quickening it, drawing his heavy
cock nearly out of the tight, moist sheath clasping at it
hungrily, then plunging it into her upraised crotch until his
balls whapped hard against the hairless, exposed puckered hole of
her anus. His throbbing testicles ached as did his prick with the
mounting, building pressure, building ... forever building inside
his bloated sac, and his head swam with his intensifying lust.
His hand slid down over the taut skin of her lasciviously
undulating buttocks to the small crinkled hole nestled so
unprotectedly there, and he felt her intake of breath as he
fingered its soft, warm flexing movements while she labored
passionately against his loins. A rivulet of warm, viscid fluid
that had seeped from her straining pussy moistened it, and he
taunted it intentionally before making his move.
"Ma chere," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, "now comes
another treat for you. I am going to shove my finger right up
your asshole ... just as far as it'll go ... like a miniature cock
it will be, fucking you in the ass while my prick pounds into your
cunt, eh?"
Madeleine struggled with her breathing, the erotic sensations
produced by his lurid words and actions, the subjugating of her
body to his every vile and lewd whim, causing even further
masochistic raptures to sweep over her. She moaned aloud.
"Oooohhhh ... Oui, oui ... do it ... do it!" she whimpered.
"Do what, my pet?" he prodded quickly. "What do you want me
to do?"
"Oooohhh ... your finger ... Oui ... put it in my asshole!
Oui! Quick ... I want you to do it I want you to!"
The little czar's naked head screamed with the lustful
exhilaration she was causing to race wildly inside it. His
massive prick felt as if it would burst before he ever squirted
his semen into her. He fumbled with his thick finger at the
round, tight, little puckered hole, then he pushed into it with a
sudden, almost brutal thrust, feeling the soft, spongy orifice
give before his assault.
"Agggghhhhh!" Madeleine gasped, the sound tumbling from her
lips in painful protest as his cock pounded mercilessly into her.
He thrust further and harder, taking gloating pleasure in
hearing her groans of subservient agony. She grunted and coughed,
even as her cunt rode hungrily up and down his throbbing cock.
"Auggghhh ... God!" she cried louder from his further outrage
against her defenseless rectum, feeling him beginning to rotate
the digit ... gently at first, then more rapidly, until he'd sunk
it all the way to the palm of his hand into the deep, rubbery
warmth of her anal passage and she groaned uncontrollably beneath
him.
Mother of Christ! Never had she known such pleasure-pain ...
nor such rapture, Madeleine thought. Agony issued from her
tormented rectum ... from his thick finger buried and moving
inside it, even as algolagnic delight filled her loins and belly
... and then the pain from his thrusting penetration began to
subside as she grew accustomed to its thick presence ... adding
richer bliss to the pleasures spiraling through her, and she began
to skewer her anus lasciviously back onto it at the same time as
she strained to absorb his joy-giving cock inside her belly.
Larreau could barely control his lust any longer. His loins
ached with his need for release and he rammed into her upturned
cunt with growing fury. She had accepted his finger in her
asshole with delight, and suddenly, he shoved a second one into
the very depths, without benefit of gentleness causing her to
scream beneath him. This was what he wanted! Scream cochon,
scream! He wormed them both around inside the warm, spongy
depths, feeling his own cock plunging in and out of her through
the thin wall that separated her passages ... until slowly, the
wails of pain subsided, easing in to greater moans of pleasure as
her anus became accustomed to the vicious, unnatural invasion he
had subjected it to.
He grinned in triumph, then kissed her. She sucked at his
tongue buried half into her throat as her rectum screwed back on
his fingers and her legs raised higher to receive his thundering
weapon while methodically, he probed around in the warm, rubbery
channel. She was hopelessly impaled between his hard throbbing
cock in her vagina and his fingers shoved tightly in her twitching
rectum. And now, moaning and mewling beneath him, she began
twisting and squealing wantonly under the dual ravishment of her
loins. Her thrusts up against him became more urgent, her motions
ever increasing, her small white teeth biting hard into her lower
lip again as he continued the drubbing pillage of her asshole. He
knew she was straining to come; the juices of her milking vagina
were flowing like sap, and he could hear the wet sucking sound of
the in and out sawing movement as she suddenly bolted sharply up
his cock, taking it deep inside her, her back arched a foot off
the bed, her feet planted flat on either side of his knees. She
bucked against him wildly and he pulled his fingers from her
rectum with a wet, hissing sound. She squirmed and skewered,
raising a cry from her throat with every upthrust.
"Oh ... Oooohhh ... Mon Dieu! Oui ... Oui! I-I'm comming,
Uncle ...! Oh Christ! I'm cummmmiinnngggg ... Oooohhhh! Uncle
Gaston ...!"
Her body began to convulse uncontrollably, her cry choking in
her throat. Torrents of warm, viscous fluid gushed from her open,
jerking cunt, immersing his driving prick in its sticky heat and
trickling obscenely down the crevice between her smooth, white
buttocks, and on down over his balls pressed snugly against her
wide-stretched anus.
Larreau continued to hammer into her, ramming harder and
deeper, and as he felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the mouth
and lips of her cunt sucking at his prick feverishly, her breath
laboring in short deep gasps, he felt his own hot, thick sperm
racing the length of his prick in stimulating ecstasy, racking his
squat, obese bulk as it spurted from the tip of his cock far up
into her soft, quivering belly. It jerked and spewed in never
ending delight inside her and she ground her crotch up tight
against its buried depth, her cuntal lips working like a gulping
fish to suck the last of his hot, scalding sperm from his lust-
bloated testicles.
The enrapturing bliss of his hot, white cum squirting into
her raised an undeniable cry of enchantment from Madeleine. Her
thighs quivered below and her belly quaked with the unleashed pool
of pleasure he had emptied into her. She had never realized such
joy could come from such a vile act ... and especially with such a
loathsome man ... but it had; it had! She let her legs fall limp,
while her heart pounded in her breast. Her body had been
fulfilled, but now in the aftermath, her shame and degradation
were creeping rapidly back over her in one vast all-consuming
wave.
He collapsed atop of her, his great weight nearly crushing
the breath from her, his thick, deflating penis still submerged
deeply inside her quivering vagina. She rolled her head to one
side in an effort to escape his foul gasping breath that she now
noticed for the first time. She felt him flex his shrinking rod a
last time, its dregs draining into her, and suddenly she wanted to
scream and scream, but his massive body kept her from that ...
Dear Jesus! What had she come to? Oh my God, Antoine ...
can you ever forgive me, my darling? But you see ... I had nobody
... nobody ...! And my baby ... my Igat ... Oh, mother of God
...!
Madeleine could no longer hold back her tears and as they
burst from her in choking sobs, Larreau rolled his squat bulk from
her sated, if, battered, voluptuous young body. He managed to sit
up and gape at her and she turned onto her side, her back to him,
her lovely naked form shuddering in her weeping.
"So? What the hell is this all about?" he shot at her. "Was
it that bad, eh? One minute you fuck like a hot little bitch in
heat ... the next, you're bawling as if you'd just lost your
cherry. Look, goddamnit, cut it out. Sniveling women make me
sick ..."
He lay his hand on her thigh and smoothed it up over the line
of her hip to the hollow of one soft, white buttock. She flinched
at his touch and shook her behind as if to shake it off. "Leave
me alone! Damn you! Don't touch me anymore ... ever! Ever, do
you hear? Ever!"
She rolled onto her back to glare up at him through her tears
and Larreau read the hatred in her enraged dark eyes.
Momentarily, a little tingle of excitement rippled through him at
the sight and his limp member gave a start. Christ, if he had the
time, he thought ... but there would be other occasions ... yes,
many, many more. He could wait.
"All right, ma chere, if that's the way you feel ..." he
said, shrugging his shoulders and getting to his feet from the
bed, "you better get out of here. Get your clothes on and get
out."
Madeleine stared at him. Already, she was sorry for what she
had said; inasmuch as she had submitted to him because of his
promise to help her get Igat from the Girardes. Dear God, she had
sacrificed everything ... her marriage vows, all claims to decency
... and now to have it end all in vain ...
He went to his clothes and began to dress, no longer noticing
her, as if she was not in the room.
"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Gaston," she forced herself to apologize.
"But ... but ... I've never done anything like that before, and
when I realized ..."
He jerked his head around to look at her, his ugly face
twisting in a nasty grin. "What the hell are you saying ... never
done anything like that before? How about the kid, eh? What was
that? An immaculate conception, Cheri?"
"B-But that was different! You don't understand ..."
"They're all different," he snapped coldly. "Ask any woman.
She never gives herself; she's always raped, eh? Like you just
were. Raped. Always raped. Now tell me you didn't like it,
Cheri ... Go on, tell me that you hated my cock buried deep in
that tight little pussy of yours ... Well? Tell me ... if you
can."
Madeleine lay unmoving, her eyes fixed on his round, ugly
face, his words registering slowly in her brain. Dear God, she
couldn't honestly deny it! She'd loved it. He had aroused inside
her what Antoine, her own husband, had never even come close to
... a passion that had been near heavenly bliss itself ...
unwanted or not, he had done that ... and then it abruptly
occurred to her that the blame was not his, but her own, and the
hatred she felt was not for him, but for her own self. She was
the temptress, the one to be despised, the seductive animal who
had come here of her own free will, just as she had gone with M.
Keel for her own gain. But, Mother of God, she had done it for
Igat ... for Igat ...
"Come on," he interrupted her self-condemning thoughts. "You
better leave now. I've got business ..."
"U-Uncle Gaston ... I'm sorry," she said, slowly swinging her
feet to the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Please ...
please don't be angry with me. I-I did like it ... honest."
"Humph ..." Larreau grunted, pretending indifference, while
inside he was elated with the way it was developing. He had her;
she was his to play with as long as he liked, even though she
hated him and he knew it, but it was the kid ... she'd do anything
to get back her kid. And he knew how to handle that, too; for if
he did get her the child, it would be all over for him ... she'd
have nothing more to do with him. So ...? He'd pretend ... but
do nothing.
"Are you angry with me, Uncle?"
"I'll get over it, Cheri."
"And ... and you'll do what you promised ... about Igat, I
mean?" she asked as she started to dress.
"That will depend," he answered, matter-of-factly.
"Depend? On what, Uncle ...?"
He was knotting his tie. He turned to smile at her. "On how
you perform tomorrow."
Madeleine could hardly believe her ears. Her mouth fell open
as she stared at him. She stood with only her panties covering
her lovely body, her full and erect breasts thrusting forward
proudly. She repeated in abject disbelief; "T-Tomorrow?"
"Of course, ma chere. Tomorrow ... the next day, and the day
after ... whenever I so crave your tight little ass, eh?" He
chuckled, slipped on his coat and walked slowly toward the door.
"Now, hurry and dress. You must leave before my business
appointment arrives, eh? We wouldn't want anyone to see you here
and tell our dear Antoine, now, would we?" He opened the door and
stood momentarily looking back at her. "You're lovely, ma chere,"
he said, licking at his lips. "Yours are the most beautiful tits
I've ever seen ... ah, oui. And tomorrow ... tomorrow I'll teach
you some new delights, eh?"
He closed the door silently while she stood gaping after him,
his words and meaning filling her brain with sickening despair.
Dear God, she was completely and hopelessly trapped in a snare of
her own making, a web of horrible circumstances that she had
helped weave around herself, and now she was with less chance of
escape than ever.
Oh God, help me! Somebody, help me!
She sat back down on the edge of the bed and wept quietly
into her hands.
[continues]
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