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Subject: NEW Uncle Gaston And Niece [2/3]
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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
[continued]
Chapter 8
Alone, Gaston Larreau relaxed in his favorite chair with a
tall scotch-soda. He smiled to himself, exhilarated with his
accomplished seduction. It had gone so much better than he had
ever anticipated; Mon Dieu, but she was a delightful creature; his
legs were still weak and trembling from the extent of his climax,
yet the mere thought of her voluptuous, naked body caused his
prick to again stir in his trousers. He'd never get enough of
her; she was the one he'd been waiting for, and he didn't intend
that she'd ever get away from him. He'd hated to send her away in
the mood she was in ... almost in an obvious state of despondency,
but it was necessary if he were to keep her properly subjugated
...
The ringing of the telephone beside him interrupted his
thoughts.
"Oui?" he said.
"M'sieu' Larreau, this is Robert Jovell."
"So?" the powerful little czar addressed his attorney.
"Problems, M'sieu' .. and of a serious nature, I fear,"
Jovell said, speaking in their native tongue.
"Well go on."
"It's Galaxy Mining ... the Ontario government is hot on the
trail. I've been tipped that they are conducting an extensive
investigation. There's no question, M'sieu', but what they'll
uncover the whole thing ..."
"Hummmm. I see. The whole thing, eh? To what extent,
Jovell?"
"The ultimate ... they'll label it a stock swindle."
Larreau sensed a sudden vacuum at the base of his vast
stomach. "So? What the hell can you do about it?" he snapped
suddenly. "You're my attorney. What am I paying you for, eh
...?"
"I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple, M'sieu',"
Jovell replied. "This is the government ... not the stupid local
hacks. But, of course, you yourself are clean. They can't touch
you ... but your nephew, Antoine ..."
"Yes? What about Antoine?"
"Well ... that's another story, M'sieu'. You remember that
we set him up with indisputable control of the company for this
very reason, hoping, of course, that it would never be necessary
to use him as a dupe ... but I fear ... well ... someone is going
to answer ... Do I make myself clear?"
Larreau rubbed the palm of his pudgy hand over his slightly
perspiring forehead. "I see," he said after a moment. "It's that
bad, eh?"
"Yes ... it's that bad, and maybe worse," replied Jovell.
"He'll definitely take a ride for this ... We'll have to prepare
him."
"Christ ... he's my nephew, Jovell," said Larreau, more for
appearances than anything, his brain already reaping the
advantages with Madeleine if Antoine were completely out of his
way.
"I understand, M'sieu' Larreau ... but maybe I can ease that
pain for you a bit," the attorney said, his tone of voice dropping
to a quieter level.
"What're you talking about?"
The attorney hesitated. Then: "Axel just called. He was
trying to locate you. He ... he followed Ma'm'selle Novak to Ste.
Agathe des Monts ... your summer place. She went inside and Axel
waited. In a little while Antoine showed up ... They're together
right now ..."
Gaston Larreau stared across the room at nothing, rage rising
uncontrollably inside him. He couldn't believe it ... that either
one of them would dare try anything behind his back. That
stinking blonde bitch! And that little punk ... planning to make
a fool of him were they ... well, by God, he'd see about that.
Slowly, he began to calm and an evil smile spread his round, ugly
face. So. Maybe they were going to make it easy for him after
all ... playing right into his hands ...
"M'sieu' Larreau ...? Are you there?" Jovell's voice sounded
in his ear.
"Yeah ... I'm here."
"Look ... I didn't mean to upset you, but I thought ..."
"Shut up and listen. Tell Axel to pick up two more of the
boys and come by here for me," Larreau said, still smiling. "I
think I feel like taking a little ride in the country, eh?"
Jovell hesitated. Finally: "Oui, M'sieu', right away."
Gaston Larreau slowly replaced the phone in its cradle, the
wicked little smile never leaving his face, even as he sipped at
his scotch and soda.
By God, it's all going to work out to perfection, he thought
... absolute perfection.
Chapter 9
Antoine arrived at the summer house in Ste. Agathe des Monts
shortly after noon. He circled the area carefully, satisfying
himself that there was no one sitting off somewhere and watching.
Oh, there was a car parked a ways down the road, but there was no
one in it and he laughed a little tightly to himself. His guilty
conscience was run-ning away with him already. Driving by, he had
seen Ginny's yellow Fiat parked to the side of the house and
sensibly he'd decided to leave his own car in a nearby wood and
walk the distance.
She'd been waiting for him when he entered through the side
patio, waiting in nothing but a sheer negligee she'd brought with
her, no less, and when he walked in she ran to him, throwing her-
self into his arms, her mouth finding his passion-ately, the soft
flesh of her round, sensuous body grinding hotly against his own.
"Darling ... darling ... I thought you'd never get here," she
hissed into his mouth, her tiny tongue darting out to paint his
lips and search into his mouth covetously.
All the way he hadn't been able to take his mind from
Madeleine or Uncle Gaston, his guilt over what he was about to do
damned near unnerving him. Twice, he had almost turned back ...
now, he was glad that he hadn't. He enfolded her into his arms
and kissed her hungrily, feeling his prick immediately beginning
to harden.
Ginny laughed warmly, her lovely eyes searching his own
excitedly as her hand dropped between them to trace the outline of
his stiffening penis.
"I can see that you're as ready as I am, Lover," she
whispered, gently fondling and caressing his thickening cock
through his trousers.
"Christ ...!" he gasped, pulling her tightly to him, his hand
moving inside her negligee to cup her firm, hard-nippled breast
and taking her breath away with a whimper. "I could hardly sleep
last night, just thinking about you, Cheri ... and this moment."
"Oh ... oh God," she moaned. "Come on, let's go upstairs to
the bedroom where we can get everything off. I want to go over
you with a fine tooth comb ... explore every nook and cranny of
you. My God ... I want you ... need you so bad, Antoine darling."
He kissed her again, then gallantly lifted her into his arms
and carried her up the stairs while she kissed his eyes and nose
and lips, then traced her tiny wet tongue lavingly over his every
feature. He lay her down on the bed, stepped back and smiled.
"Undress," she said. "Hurry, Darling undress so I can see
you."
Antoine swallowed with an effort. His prick was jerking in
his pants and she was watching it, laughing delightedly, sitting
up to slip out of her negligee as he fumbled with his clothes, her
eyes widening excitedly the moment he dropped his pants, and even
more so as his shorts followed.
"Oh ... oh, my God, Darling ... its beautiful!" she breathed
heavily, staring at his erect and throbbing shaft of hardened cock
standing out from his naked loins with a proud, almost mean-
looking upthrust. "Oh God," she moaned, rolling to the edge of
the bed, hands outstretched toward it. "Bring it here to me so
that I can love it."
Antoine could barely breathe with the desire she had already
aroused in him. He moved toward the bed and she reached out,
gently taking his prick between her two hands.
"Hmmmmm," she cooed with a loving little smile, her sea-green
eyes engorging themselves on the rigid hardness of his long, thick
member. "Oh Darling, it's going to make me so happy ... I know it
is," she mewled.
Antoine groaned aloud as her soft hands caressed his pulsing
shaft, and he saw the tiny drops of seminal fluid that oozed from
its tip in his mounting lust. She brought it closer to her face
while he watched entranced as her white, delicate hand stroked it,
drawing the thick foreskin back back and forth ... and then
suddenly, she leaned forward, her small pink tongue flicked out to
lick away the moisture at its tip. His knees went limp as he
watched her oval her open mouth and press her wet lips warmly over
its swollen head ... slowly sliding his cock into the delightful
haven of her mouth, her tongue lashing and working against its
heavy veined, desire-hardened flesh in tantalizing enchantment:
then, as slowly did she draw off of it, her encircled lips sucking
their way to its very tip, and he could feel the unbelievable
swirling motions of her tongue until finally her tongue-tip
taunted at the tiny split of its end before she sucked it all the
way into her mouth once more.
Christ ... it was beyond belief. Heavenly! He'd blow his
mind! But then, she stopped and looked up at him.
"My Darling, I'd love to suck the cum from it ... and I will,
but not yet. I want you to come down here and hold me first ...
make love to me with feeling ... kiss my breasts and run your
hands over my body. I-I need that so badly, Lover ... someone
with warmth and feeling who cares whether I live or die ...
Please, Antoine ..." she pleaded, looking up at him with tears in
her eyes. "Make me feel like a woman ..."
He threw himself down onto her, close to tears himself at her
emotional expression of her need, and his hands gently caressed
the warm, silken flesh of her body, exploring the secret hollows
and creases while his mouth and tongue sought the erogenous areas
of her breasts, underarms and navel ... eventually even the
sparse, golden, hair-covered mound of her pussy ... and he lay
between her wanting, spread thighs, his face a scant inch above
the thin, pink slit, not touching it with his hands, but licking
the tight furrow from between the creamy spheres of her buttocks
up to its very tip at the base of her belly, then down again and
back up ... gradually insinuating his stiffening tongue between
the already palpitating lips, always going deeper into her, the
taste of her affecting him like some rare vintage wine, while the
moans and choking purls grew audibly in her throat and tossing
head.
He found her throbbing clitoris and sucked it into his mouth,
his teeth nibbling tenderly, his tongue swirling and taunting it
with maddening delight, until suddenly she could no longer stand
her own abstinence.
"Oh God, Lover, turn around. Let me have that beautiful cock
to suck. Hurry! I want it in my mouth ..."
Antoine responded automatically, his heart pounding in his
chest as he spread his legs over her face, his open crotch above
her and mere inches from her mouth. Excitedly, she pulled him
down to her, hands clutching at his hips, and he felt her tongue
on the inside of his thigh near his balls, hot and wet, and then
it was tracing the seam of his sac in a wild, exhilarating
sensation ... up through the crevice of his ass to his very
asshole, licking and probing at the tight orifice wetly ... then
retracing its course over his balls and along the underside of his
prick ... until suddenly, he felt the warm, wet cavern of her lips
slipping over the blood-inflated head and drew it with a sucking
exertion nearly down into her throat.
Rhythmically, she sucked, and rhythmically, he licked.
Christ in heaven! There'd never been anything like this before in
his life! He'd lose his goddamned mind if he didn't cum soon.
His balls were about to explode already! Damn, he was no match
for her ... could never satisfy her; he was certain of it. She
was going to suck him right to climax if he didn't stop her! But
maybe ... maybe, if he fucked her ... He didn't want to be shamed
... not satisfy her ...
"Wh-Where are you going?" she whimpered as he climbed off of
her, the expression on her passion-twisted face letting him know
the extent of her ecstasy.
He crawled up over her between her legs, spreading her thighs
with his knees, and she drew them up and back, a smile lighting
her face. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, endeavoring to sound
as positive as he could. "We've played around long enough ...
now, we make love."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Mmmmmm, Darling ... I
love you ... I love you ..."
"Put it in," he ordered, kissing her on the nose, and then he
felt her small hand take his wet, throbbing prick and place it at
the mouth of her flowered, receptive vagina.
"Oh ... Oh God, Lover do it hard!" she gasped, her lovely
face assuming a drawn, almost pained expression. "Please, do it
hard ... hard and brutal ... It's the only way I know ..."
Antoine gaped down at her, his breathing once more hitching
in his throat. He would fail her; he knew it ... just as he'd
always failed Madeleine ... or any other woman he'd ever been with
...
"Please, Lover .. give it to me! Don't make me wait! Fuck
me, Darling! Fill me with your wonderful cock ...!"
He rammed with every ounce of strength he could muster and
she squealed like a speared animal.
"Eeeeaaauuuugggghhhhh! Oooohhhhhggggg! Oooohhhhh ... yes
... yes ... like that ... don't stop, Lover ... don't ever stop!"
He was pleasurably surprised at the amazing tightness of her
moist, velvety passage walls encasing his sensitive rock-hard cock
with a skilled muscle control that he had never experienced, but
he knew that he couldn't keep it up without reaching his own
orgasm in minutes, and already he was sensing his shame.
"Oohhhh ... Ooooohhhhh, harder, harder, Darling!" she groaned
pleadingly.
He thrust wildly, sending his long, aching cock up into her
warm, tight cunt with hellish force, driving and pounding, the
flow of her lubricating fluids easing the way with each plunge,
until finally the lust-bloated head of his heavy shaft struck
bottom and his balls slapped hard against the smooth, rounded
cheeks of her flexing ass.
She wailed sharply and twisted in a moment of torment in
under him to his delight, as the turgid head of his prick battered
the depths of her secret parts, but her cry of pain only served to
incite his lust more and he rammed harder, grinding his pelvis
tighter into her loins and flexing the head to raise a further
groan of agony, even as he realized that he was damned near ready
to shoot into her.
"Darling ... Darling ... you love me, don't you?" she wailed
up at him suddenly. "Tell me you love me, my lover ...?"
He might have told her; he might have told her anything at
that moment for he was ready to squirt his load of sperm deep into
her belly ... but it was at that untimely second that the door
burst open and Uncle Gaston with three others stormed brusquely
into the bedroom.
Antoine froze on the upstroke, his eyes fixed on the squat
little man, and almost simultaneously, did he feel the life
drained from his prick, his orgasm choking in his balls like a
lump of hot lead.
"Jesus Christ!" he swore.
"A little party, I'd surmise," the ugly, obese czar said with
broad gold-toothed grin.
Ginny screamed and Antoine fell out of her, rolled onto his
side and stared up at the intruders. Again, she screamed and
tried to throw her arms around Antoine's neck for protection, but
he fought her away. He swung to the other side of the bed and sat
on the edge, his neck craned to gape at his grinning uncle.
"Damn ... damnit, Uncle Gaston ... I-I can explain ..."
"I'm sure you can, boy ... but not to my satisfaction," said
Larreau, never unsmiling.
"Antoine! Antoine! My God, don't desert me!" Ginny begged,
her fear causing her voice to break. "Darling, please ...?"
"Christ, Uncle ... I'm human!" Antoine blurted, ignoring her.
"You know what it is! Who knows better than you ... a woman tries
to seduce you ... you take it as long as you can ...!"
Larreau's smile seemed permanent. The three hoods behind him
were impassive of expression. "Of course, boy," the czar said.
"One of the most cursed weaknesses of mankind ... women. Too bad,
too. You have such a nice little wife. Well ... that's the way
of things, I suppose."
"Look, Uncle Gaston ... I'll make it up to you. I swear I
will," Antoine heard himself plead. "If it hadn't been me, it
would've been someone else ..."
"Antoine!" Ginny cried.
"Shut up, bitch! It's true. It wasn't me as an individual
you wanted. It was just a way of getting even ... or whatever
with Uncle Gaston ..."
"Both of you, shut your lying mouths!" the little man
snapped.
"Oh, my God!" Ginny groaned pathetically, burying her face in
the pillow to weep.
Gaston Larreau moved over in front of his nephew. He said:
"You've failed me ... failed me miserably, as a matter of fact and
after all I've done for you."
"Uncle, listen, I'll make ..."
"Shut up! Shut up before I lose all sense of reason," the
little man spat, his face grimaced in a terrible expression of
rage. "I-I could kill you for this, Antoine. It's done
everyday."
"I know ... I know," Antoine agreed, his head hung forward
between his legs.
"I thought of you ... treated you as my own flesh and blood,"
Larreau reminded him emphatically.
"Oh God ... God ... God ... I know, Uncle. I know ..."
Antoine said, pounding his naked knees with clenched fists.
"There's nothing I wouldn't have done for you, boy ... but
you've betrayed me ... and in our circle there's just one answer
to the double-cross ... punishment. Ordinarily, you'd have to die
for this; it's the code of the syndicate ... but I think maybe
it's possible to save your ass and satisfy the score another way.
Not much of a choice, perhaps, but better than dying."
Antoine looked up hopefully, while Ginny Novak shuddered in
her tears behind him. She couldn't believe it. He had completely
deserted her ... just as every man she'd ever known. The three
hoods behind Larreau were staring at her lasciviously. Dear God,
she could only hope and pray that what she was thinking wouldn't
come true. "I'll accept whatever's coming to me, Uncle," Antoine
managed, endeavoring to raise his head.
"It's the unwritten law, boy ... and we don't go against it."
Larreau said. He moved in closer and placed his hand symbolically
on Antoine's head. "Galaxy is finished. Trouble in Ontario.
You're its president ... There'll be a little time ... and you'll
have to serve it. Time is never easy ... but it's better than
dying, eh? But you make your own decision, boy."
Antoine continued to stare up at him. "I'll ... I'll do
whatever you say, Uncle Gaston."
The squat man walked away from him. He circled the bed to
where he could look into the face of Ginny Novak whose tear-
stained and contorted features were hardly her own. He grinned
down at her. He said: "You've always been a naughty girl, ma
chere, and a damned poor secretary at best." He chuckled. "But
maybe the boys can inspire some fire in you, eh? Give you that
feeling of fulfillment you've always been looking for."
"Oh Christ, Gaston, no! Don't! Please don't!" she begged.
"Look ... I lost my head ... I'll make it up to you. I'll do
anything you say ..."
He turned his back to her and walked away in disgust, back to
Antoine. Still smiling regally, he said: "Come on, kid, get
dressed. You can drive me back to Montreal while I explain what
you have to look forward to ... and how to cope with it."
"Y-Yes sir," Antoine replied, getting to his feet.
"Meantime, boys ... see that Ma'm'selle Novak is properly
taken care of eh?" the czar advised his underlings. "Make sure
she doesn't want for anything ... anything."
The one called Axel grinned. "You bet, boss," he said. "You
bet."
Chapter 10
Axel was a gaunt, hollow-chested man with a skull-shaped
face, lead colored eyes, knife-like mouth and huge, brutal hands.
He seldom smiled or changed expression; his was a mask of inbred,
unfeeling cruelty. His cohorts were both ugly men in their own
right, McShea being the larger with heavy, powerful shoulders, a
large, ruddy face, thick lips, a bulbous nose and little mean
eyes, while Poulette was wiry and small of stature, with a
pointed, bird-like face, vicious bulging eyes and a gruesome
manner of speaking through his yellowed, clenched teeth. Ginny
Novak knew and feared all three; they were Larreau's enforcers.
She had seen some of the horrible results of their work ... girls
who had violated an order, or crossed the czar in one way or
another; if they lived they were usually disfigured, maimed, or at
the least, completely broken mentally.
She lay on the bed staring up at them in sheer horror;
Larreau had thrown her to them as one might toss a bone to a pack
of wild dogs, while Antoine had absolutely denied and deserted
her, running off with his tail between his legs to humbly accept
his punishment ... the cowardly fool. Oh, dear Christ, it was
over for her; they'd kill her once they'd satisfied their
perverted lusts ... she knew it, she knew it!
Axel walked to the bed and gaped down at her naked
loveliness, while McShea and Poulette crowded in at the foot and
opposite side.
"You're a stupid cunt," the gaunt one said. "And like all
stupid cunts ... you never learn."
"She likes to fuck," McShea said, grinning evilly. "And when
a broad likes to fuck, her pussy does her thinkin' for her, eh,
baby?"
"Maybe she'd rather suck than fuck," hissed Poulette. "Let's
find out."
Ginny jerked her eyes from one to the other, eyes wide with
terror, while her small white teeth nibbled helplessly at her
lower lip. Suddenly, her breath caught, wadding in her throat as
she watched Axel lean over her, his huge hand reaching down
between her legs at her crotch.
"Open 'em," he ordered.
She was too frightened to refuse and she spread her smooth
white thighs apart to him, exposing her slightly opened, moist
pink slit, still wet from Antoine's attention, to their vile,
salacious eyes. She gasped painfully as he dug into her with one
thick finger, thrusting it right up into her cunt to the palm of
his brutal hand and routing the sensitive, velvety flesh
mercilessly.
"Augghhhh, please ... please don't ..." she pleaded, pressing
her buttocks down into the mattress in an effort to escape his
torturous invasion between her legs.
McShea sniggered, his ugly face twisted in a lewd grin as he
watched his cohort's thick finger drubbing into the pink-fleshed
hole in her sparse, blonde-covered loins. Christ, she was a sexy
looking slut all right ... the old man's private fuck, too ...
damn, he was really going to enjoy this one.
"You know what happens to people who cross the boss, don't
you?" Axel sneered down at her, but Ginny didn't answer. "Well
... it's up to us to decide just how much punishment you've got
coming. So, for openers, we're all going to fuck you ... or maybe
these boys have other ideas of a few things they'd like to try on
you." Poulette and McShea laughed softly, menacingly. "Me ...
I've wanted to get my cock into you for a long time, bitch, but
there was no way as long's the old-man wanted you ... now, that's
all over, eh?"
Ginny felt him jerking his finger out of her and she sighed
with the relief from pain, but she continued to lay as if
petrified as suddenly they all started to undress. Panic seized
her then; abruptly, she tried to scramble and bolt from the bed.
McShea caught her from behind, twisting his hand in her long
blonde hair and yanking her backwards across the bed. She
screamed and Axel struck her with his open palm, back and forth, a
half-dozen blows across the face, breasts and stomach. McShea
caught at her arm, wrenching it cruelly up behind her back,
forcing her over onto her stomach. Poulette came up on the other
side of her and together, he and McShea pushed her shoulders
tightly down, then knees wedged her own apart with a rough
pressure as one of them moved in close behind her.
"Up, bitch! kneel up!" Axel charged her, grasping her hips.
There was nothing to be gained by cooperating she reasoned;
they would do whatever they intended anyway. In the end, she
would probably wind up dead. She lay flatly on the bed in
defiance, crying now, but in rage as much as fear. The hands
holding her shoulders fast moved away, temporarily freeing her,
then her arm was being thrust inhumanly upward behind her back
once more and she was being hauled up and backward to her knees.
She cried out, continuing to struggle against them, but she was no
match for their strength.
"Fuckin' bitch!" snarled Axel as she swung her smooth rounded
buttocks back and forth in a futile attempt to evade whatever he
had in mind.
"I hope she throws it around like that when I get into her,"
McShea said, chuckling lewdly. "I'll fuck her silly."
Poulette had begun to squeeze, twist and pull at one of her
full, hanging breasts, while McShea thrust her arm up further
between her shoulder-blades, forcing her face down hard against
the bedcover, and her swaying hips up higher into the air.
Ginny gasped with the pain as, suddenly, there was a thick
invasion ... a brutal probing at her naked loins from behind ...
as if the end of a baseball bat was being burrowed into her fear
contracted vagina. She screamed, begging him to stop, but in
vain. The tears gushed down her cheeks and the impalement
continued, until she felt her thighs pressed wide apart, the heavy
weight of his loins battering against her buttocks, shoving her
face hard into the bed with the fierce pain racking her unwanting
passage. The sensitive channel felt as if it were ablaze, and his
massive prick ramming into it made her think of a leaden weight
studded with burrs. She was in agony; her back throbbed from
bending in her obscene position. Now, there were hands and more
hands pawing her body, mauling her breasts and clutching at her
bottom. Good God! Someone was shoving a finger right up her anus
... her still smarting rectum, sore beyond reason from Larreau's
sodomy of the night before.
Hissing wails of breath tumbled from her lips. Her cunt felt
as if it were being steel-wooled into raw, bloodied meat ... but
then not quite so bad as it began to moisten with her own
lubricating juices; however, simultaneously, his penetration
increased, until she felt as if her whole passage and belly were
being split open, as if she were being ripped from her anus to her
breasts, the latter, of which, were being squeezed, pulled and
knurled viciously.
Kneeling behind her obscenely spread and presented buttocks,
Axel gritted his teeth and fucked in and out of her with dynamic
lunges that began from his toes and quivered up through his
strong, lean thighs to reach the apex of sensation in his long,
rock-hard cock pummeling into her, ramming and splattering her
flesh in every direction, blazing a trail of entry as if his lust-
inflated shaft were an auger tunneling into her soft, vibrant
body. His hands clutched at her satin-smooth white flesh,
squeezing and punishing sadistically, hurting her and making her
cry out and writhe with the pain, fear and degradation.
His balls swung wildly, alive with a mounting pressure ever
building, while his cock tingled and pulsated. He ran his hands
over the tormented flesh which, unwillingly but helplessly, was at
his mercy. He jerked her buttocks apart, spreading them open
obscenely, exposing the little wrinkled, inflamed hole of her
anus, and he shoved his thick finger into it finding little
resistance. His cock was battering into her to the last fraction
of an inch, the sheath of her cunt still snug around his rigidity,
its clasping, milking folds raising foul obscenities of delight to
spew from his knife-like lips.
Ginny knew no pleasure. She was helpless, shamed, and her
body ached as if it were infested with demons of the damned. She
lay with her face sideways against the bedcover, enduring the
unbelievable abuse at her helpless genitals with silent tears.
All of her life she had given herself and had been taken by men,
but never had she felt more naked, more debased, and so
defenseless. Her crotch was one great open gap and his massive,
violent prick was racing into it like some pistoning bludgeon
being driven by super force. She was being hopelessly destroyed.
Her lips opened and closed in agony. Occasionally, she tried
to flatten her hips or draw her buttocks in to lessen the pain of
her rectum, but this only tightened her vagina, increasing the
torture of his ruthless entry. And then, suddenly, there were
fingers at her lips, opening her mouth, and a rubbery, stiff, hot
object being rubbed around her there. She opened her eyes and saw
it ... a prick long and thin ... Poulette's lead-hard rod, and he
was lying along side her, pushing the vile thing into her mouth.
She tried to resist, twist her head and squirm away, nauseated
with the mere thought, but he grabbed at her nose, pinching it
between thumb and forefinger until she gasped for breath, then the
thin pole of flesh rammed in, crushing through her moist, red
lips, between her even, white teeth and into the warm saliva of
her mouth. She felt it on her tongue, no longer like a thin
instrument, but a huge, blunt, hot cudgel, absorbing her complete
attention momentarily from the never-ending battering of her
vagina and the turgid head that was crashing against her cervix,
causing her to jerk forward from the agony.
"Suck it, you cunt!" Poulette hissed between his teeth. "And
suck it with feeling or I'll slit your fucking throat!"
Ginny felt his hips begin to rotate in toward her and his
long cock to slide in and out of her mouth, never quite
withdrawing, always leaving an inch or two beyond her lips in the
warm, wet sanctuary of her mouth. He had grasped both sides of
her head vise-like between his thin, strong hands and was holding
it firm. Abruptly, he began to saw into her face with
viciousness, causing her to gag as he plunged it half-way down her
throat, its full length near-disappearing between her wide-
stretched, ovalled lips to the hilt. Suddenly, his balls slapped
harshly against her chin, the wiry black hair covering them
tickling like the brush of a feather. She struggled for breath,
catching small lungfuls of air on his outstroke.
She closed her eyes. Saliva filled her mouth and once or
twice she coughed and spluttered, but then she grew accustomed to
the asphyxiating entry and let it move in and out with rapidly
increasing vigor, racing at a faster pace than its cohort gouging
her cunt.
Axel suddenly realized that he was going to cum. He squeezed
and kneaded the soft, white flesh of her thighs and buttocks
fiendishly, thrusting with demoniacal fury, sensing his
approaching orgasm growing in its intensity, until there was a
heavy weight of blood hanging on the knob of his aching prick. He
gaped at her tender lips clasping around the expanding, whitening
cock of Poulette, who was writhing his own hips frantically as he
fucked into her face. She was sucking and licking him now with
subservient compliance, completely resolved to her task, as if she
was working to end it.
Ginny was praying for it to reach a conclusion. The cock in
her mouth was slimy with her saliva, and momentarily the moisture
was thicker and the taste more pungent. She felt his loins pound
against her face, tensing now in growing, trembling movements.
His hands gripped her cheeks and then her hair, and he seemed to
be trying to shove his prick down her throat to meet the other
racing up into her cunt. Oh God ... Oh God! she groaned
inwardly, as they buffeted her back and forth like some lifeless
mannequin between them, using her helpless, defenseless body as
some great receptacle into which they'd pump their lewd,
lascivious sperm. She felt hardly human any longer, for it seemed
that the debased ravaging of her body had been going on for a
never-ending eternity.
Poulette gasped, once, twice, a third time, then crushed his
hips into her face so that she was suffocated and fought for
breath, and even as she struggled, her mouth was flooded, his
jerking cock gushing forth thick streams of creamy, piquant liquid
into her throat, her cheeks bloating and contracting as she
swallowed to keep from choking on the great continual spurts
spewing from it, while immediately it began to lose its size and
weight and his loins fell away, allowing her to breathe again.
She opened her mouth to spit out some of the seething sperm
clinging to her tongue and the roof of her mouth, but the
opportunity was short lived. McShea had hauled Poulette from the
bed and dropped his own big frame in his place. Before she could
twist away or close her mouth again, his long, thick foreskinned
prick crashed between her lips and she groaned in bitter anguish
as she realized the vile degradation was about to be repeated.
Again ... and then, perhaps ... again after that ...
Numbly, she became aware once more of the filling of her cunt
from behind, the pummeling rod of flesh that was pounding into her
belly untiringly, and that was as broad and deep as her loins.
There was no erotic feeling ... nothing except the pained
frictioned scraping of his cock as it grated against her cuntal
walls. He was almost to the point of orgasm; she could hear him
panting and grunting, his brutal stroke always increasing ...
faster, faster ... harder, harder ... and he expanded her thighs
so wide with his knees that she was almost forced down flat on the
bed, with her hips and pelvis afire with their ache at the inhuman
stretching.
He gasped and cursed while at the same time, McShea's heavy
cock was poling into her mouth to her tonsils, then, she felt him
thrust into her so hard from behind that she cried out around the
choking, blood-engorged head of the prick in her mouth, and he
began to jerk convulsively against her ass as his shaft began
shooting its thick, hot load deep up into her painfully burning
cuntal passage; at last, he, too, was falling back away from her,
allowing a cool rush of air to brush against and soothe her
tortured cunt. But it was a brief respite, for as he crawled away
she could feel another taking his place. Frantically, she twisted
her neck and looked up and back to see Poulette mounting her, his
thin, powerful hands tearing brutally at her round, white ass-
cheeks, his finger gouging at her tender, puckered little anus.
My God, he had another erection!
"Round robin, baby," Poulette hissed down at her between his
teeth. "And it'll go on and on like this for hours, eh? Suck and
fuck ... until your belly's filled so full a cum you'll drowned in
it ... the time of your life, oui Cheri ... the very last time
..."
McShea chuckled lewdly as he clenched her cheeks and rammed
his thick cock into her throat. "Suck it, you whore! Suck it!"
Ginny could barely think any longer; her agony had reached
almost beyond human endurance. Her brain whirled and panic filled
her ... then, suddenly, excruciating pain, as Poulette's re-
hardened cock charged right up her tightly resisting rectum in one
barbaric thrust.
Oh God ... Oh God ... Oh God! It was the end for her ... the
bitter deplorable end ... and there was no one in the world to
help her ... no one who cared a damn what happened to her ... Oh
God ... have mercy on me ...!
Chapter 11
Three days following the discovery of Ginny Novak's body in
the Saint Lawrence River, An-toine Poirier was brought to trial for
extortion, found guilty, and sentenced to ten years in prison.
Throughout the horrible ordeal, Madeleine re-mained secluded,
appearing only at the court hearings and always in the company of
Gaston Larreau and his battery of attorneys. But there was hardly
any escaping the newsmen who swarmed the court daily and badgered
her at every opportunity; it was front-page scandal for weeks
inasmuch as the nefarious Canadian crime czar was involved, as
well as his nephew, along with the untimely death of the powerful
under-world lord's mistress.
Madeleine had never been close to Ginny Novak, but it was
nearly impossible for her to think of the lovely blonde girl as
being a suicide. When she had first disappeared right after
Antoine's arrest, Madeleine felt certain she had run away, back to
the states perhaps, but then, all those weeks later when they
fished her horribly bloated body from the river, the shock, on top
of Antoine's pending situation, was almost too much to bear. Only
Uncle Gaston seemed to have the strength and perseverance
necessary to keep them all going.
"Antoine will be all right, ma chere," the little emperor
would insist. "You mustn't worry. So ... he has to do a little
time; it won't hurt him, eh? He gambled for big stakes and lost.
He's lucky he's got the syndicate behind him ... otherwise, he
could end up with twenty years." Then, he would take her hands
inside his own little fat ones and hold them possessively. "But
don't you worry about a thing, Cheri. I'll see that you're taken
care of. You'll come to live with Uncle Gaston, eh? One big
happy family ..." He'd wink then and the blood would chill in her
veins.
Madeleine remained in her and Antoine's apartment until the
end. On that last rainy morning when the judge passed sentence,
she thought she would lose her mind. She had screamed out in the
courtroom, then fainted. Later, in an adjoining chamber, she had
awakened with only Uncle Gaston beside her. He sat on the edge of
the leather chesterfield where she lay, and she could hardly
believe it when she felt his hot hand caressing her thigh beneath
her mini-dress, his wet, rubbery mouth stretched in a warm, if,
lecherous smile.
"There, there, my pet," he cooed down at her. "Everything's
going to be fine. You'll come home with me and I'll take care of
you ... just you and me now, eh? We'll have some wonderful times
together. We'll travel ... see the world ... whatever your little
heart desires, ma chere ..."
She stared up at him, her eyes widening in horrified
disbelief, the meaning of his words registering fully in her
sickened, heart-broken brain.
"First, we'll get the kid for you, eh? How's that?" he said,
grinning, convinced that this of all things would influence her.
"Oh ... Oh God ...! Y-You filthy ... filthy, vile beast!"
Madeleine hissed at him, shoving his hand from beneath her dress
with such force that he nearly fell off the edge of the couch.
Suddenly, she swung bodily around, pivoting on her buttocks, and
was on her feet before the squat Larreau could regain his balance.
"Damn you!" she half screamed at him. "You're the cause of
Antoine's going to prison! You used him ... and he's going there
in your place ... just as you probably had Ginny Novak murdered!
All so that you could have me ... is that it? Y-You despicable
pig! Filthy swine!" She backed toward the door, her beautiful
face drawn in vicious hatred. "Well ... you'll never have me
again, damn you! Never, you hear? Never!"
Abruptly, Larreau's expression changed, the blood draining
from his round face, the scar on his right cheek suddenly becoming
a livid purple in his mounting rage. He moved toward her then,
but she was not there by the time he'd crossed the room; she had
jerked open the door and was running down the corridor, her sobs
and the pounding of her heels echoing back to him as he called
after her.
Goddamn her! She was getting away from him after all!
* * *
Madeleine had no idea of how long she ran the wet streets of
Montreal. She only knew that the rain dampening her face was all
that was keeping her from fainting again, and when the pain in her
aching chest became so severe from running, she stumbled into an
unfamiliar little bar and found herself a secluded, darkened
corner to collapse in. Fortunately, at this time of morning, the
place was deserted except for the young bartender and a male
patron at the far end of the bar.
Slowly, Madeleine composed herself as the young man
approached and she ordered a vermouth.
He smiled down at her; he was clean-cut and had a pleasant
smile. He said: "Are you looking for someone, Ma'm'selle?"
"N-No. Why do you ask?"
The young man shrugged. He wiped at the table in front of
her with a dry little towel he carried. "Most of the girls who
come here this time of day are looking for ... shall we say ... a
companion?"
Madeleine could barely see his face in the shadows, but the
gleam of his white teeth was very distinct. She understood then.
"I-I'm not one of those girls, M'sieu'," she replied sharply, the
ache in her chest gradually leaving her. "Do you have coffee?"
"No."
"Just the vermouth then, thank you."
He nodded, smiled, and went away. She watched him and saw
that the patron at the bar was trying to study her. She couldn't
see his face, but he seemed tall, well dressed, and perhaps middle
aged. The young bartender exchanged a few words with him and the
older one continued to watch her.
Abruptly, her situation came back to her like an overwhelming
shroud, and momentarily she felt nauseous. Dear God, what was she
going to do? Her Antoine was lost to her; she had failed him
miserably as a wife, and now there would be no chance to make it
up to him. He was gone ... out of her life, perhaps, forever. Oh
God ... dear, dear God ... She never wanted to see Gaston Larreau
again ... never, never! But what was she going to do? She had no
money, no friends, no ready means of livelihood ... unless she
went back to waiting table, but that was not as simple as it
sounded ... finding a job, a place to live ... It all took money
... God ... she wished she were dead ... just like Ginny Novak ...
at least, her miseries were behind her now ... And her Igat ...
her sweet little darling, Igat ... what of her? She couldn't
contain her tears any longer. Her head dropped onto her arm and
she wept.
Shortly, a familiar but unidentifiable male voice said
softly: "Why are you crying, Ma'm'selle?"
Madeleine jerked her head erect. She wiped at her eyes with
long fingers, looking up at him; she could hardly see his face,
but recognized him as the patron from the end of the bar. He was
carrying her vermouth on a small tray. He seemed to be tilting
his head and squinting as if attempting to place her. She said
coldly: "It's Madame, M'sieu' ... and I don't believe we've met
..."
He smiled. "Ah ... but I think we have, Madame Poirier," he
replied, setting her drink before her, moving close enough now so
that she could see him well.
For a long moment she stared at him, sensing a certain warmth
flow through her. Yes ... yes, they had met all right ... It was
Rafael Girarde, her own little Igat's adopted father. A tight
little smile crept onto her face.
"Well," he said, "that's better. Now, may I ... ah ... sit
down?"
Madeleine hesitated, then: "Yes ... why not? Please, sit
down M'sieu' Girarde."
Chapter 12
It was a nice little apartment, clean and unpretentious.
Rafael had helped her find it, move her things unbeknownst to
anyone, then made her a cocktail waitress in one of his night
clubs. He came to sleep with her on Tuesday and Friday nights,
leaving her the remainder of her time to use in whatever way she
liked. Thank God, he wasn't a jealous man.
Madeleine had soon fallen into the routine; it was a way of
life and she was not unhappy. He was good to her, she thought, as
she lay beside his naked, muscular body in the gray hours of dawn.
She left certain that he cared for her in his own way, but of
course she was only his mistress and never could expect more.
Nevertheless, he took her nice places to dine and once they had
gone on holiday together; yes, there was a certain feeling she had
for him, never love per se, but a sense of admiration and loyalty,
as well as obligation ... and he was a fine lover.
She rolled toward him, pressing her soft, warm, naked body
against his and let her hand trail lightly down his hairy chest,
over his flat hard belly to the pubic hair of his loins. There,
she found his long, limp member in repose ... sticky from their
last night's love-making as she encircled it. He moaned in his
sleep, his closed eyes flicking distractedly. She smiled and
moved down his body, pushing the covers back off them as she went.
In the faint light she studied the foreskin and the thickness of
his still limp shaft fascinatedly. Slowly, she began to massage
it with one hand while her other went beneath to cup and cradle
his balls. It was strange how her own desire seemed to peak at
this time of night-morning. He had inspired and taught her this
because of their odd working hours, never getting home until
nearly dawn, but last night had been hers off, and he had taken
her to dinner and the theatre. After, they had been too tired for
love, but now ... Again, she examined and saw the tiny droplets
seeping from its split tip. Tenderly, she stroked the
uncircumcised foreskin down its now stiffening full length, then
helped it return to cover the ever growing glans of its head.
"Pest," she heard him say softly.
She squeezed his cock tightly for answer, then dropped her
lips, kissing the expanding purple head. She positioned her body
so that he could see, then she kissed it again.
He groaned and she took it into her mouth, letting her lips
move slowly, tightly and moistly down its shaft, her tongue
working tauntingly as she lowered onto it; then, she raised with a
strong sucking motion, tasting the pungent tang of it.
"Damn!" Rafael Girarde gasped.
Once more, she slid her mouth down, absorbing the heavy
veined rod of flesh into the hot, wet cavern, her lips clasping
tightly en route, her tongue beginning to aggravate beneath the
sensitive head at its tip, until he blurted: "Christ, get up here
so that I can get at you, you little minx!"
She crawled up beside him and rolled onto her back, pulling
him on top of her. He kissed her and immediately her hand
searched down between them, seizing his long, thick cock and
guiding it between the soft, fleshy, hair-covered lips of her
moist, ready cunt. She moaned up into his face, her eyes closed,
her hips undulating, her loins wanting.
Mon Dieu! But she was a magnificent piece, he thought. At
first, she had been cold ... receptive, but cold ... and now, it
was as if she couldn't get enough. Something had happened to her
that he couldn't comprehend ... love maybe, or perhaps just
appreciation. Whatever, he reveled in it. He eased his hips
forward, not wanting to hurt her with that initial thrust, but the
mouth of her cunt seemed to clasp and suck at his prick as if to
gobble it into her, and suddenly he penetrated her with a rush,
his mighty cock soaring right up into her to its very hilt.
She grunted aloud as his rod drove up her, tightly at first,
almost a maiden tightness, hurtful to him along the solid flesh of
his shaft, until he had stroked several times and her inner
passage walls seemed to slowly lubricate and expand. Again, she
whimpered beneath him, a little wail of mixed pleasure-pain.
Then, he began to thrust until their pelvic flesh slapped
resoundingly together, and she strained back under him, arching
her naked loins up to his now ramming cock, his balls whacking
into the split crevice of her buttocks, taunting her tiny,
puckered anus with every stroke. She began to moan incessantly,
her nails raking the flesh of his back feverishly. She bit at his
lips, turned her face away, then came back to bite once again.
God ... she must love him, he thought. But he had to keep
his own head. He had a position to maintain ... Christ, nothing
could ever come of it; he couldn't let it! After all, she was
only another little bitch! He had to keep her in her place ...
look out for himself ...
"Put your finger in my ass, Cheri," she whispered
passionately. "Quick! Put it in!"
His brain, as always, whirled at her lewd request. She could
set him off like a satyr. He reached under her to the wet crevice
between the luscious, white spread moons of her buttocks, spread
them even further, found the tight crinkled ring of spongy flesh
and dug in to the first knuckle.
"Aauuugggghhhh!" Madeleine gasped, even as she screwed her
buttocks back onto his finger until it was entirely buried to the
palm of his hand in the warm, velvety depths of her rectum.
Suddenly, his cock was a throbbing, aching spear of delight.
The thought of what he was doing to her was firing him like a
madman. He routed his finger wildly in the soft, rubbery flesh of
her rectal passage, feeling his nails accidently gouge into her
and raising a cry of protest from her throat; she jerked away
momentarily, but presently came right back to offer her tight
twitching anus for further punishment.
One of these days ... very soon ... he'd have to bring it to
an end! It was going too far ... getting away from him! He'd
have to end it ... have to ...!
His loins felt coiled like a serpent ready to strike, and his
cock felt massive, as if it were growing and growing ... expanding
and contracting, throbbing almost painfully.
She clung to him tightly with her long, lovely legs wrapped
around him, her strong thighs squeezing his hips, slackening and
clamping, while her hungry pussy milked his prick with spasmodic
clutches.
"Fuck me, Cheri! Fuck me hard!" she groaned, her face a rich
crimson, her neck strained back, her fingernails tearing at the
flesh of his back and ribs. "Mon Dieu ... j'arrive! Oh ...
Oooohhhh ... I'm cumming, Cheri ... Oui, Oui ... I'm
cuuuuummmmmiiiiinnnnnggggg!" she cried, pulling back her thighs
until her knees pressed tightly against her breasts, presenting
him with a stretched and palpitating pink fissure of moist, hair-
lined flesh. He hammered into her with pile-driving thrusts, her
legs up and over his shoulders now as she lifted her crotch up to
him with convulsive jerks.
Girarde felt her cunt flowering open around him and warm
gushes of hot fluid pour into the channel flooding his thrusting
prick. He plunged farther, faster, digging deep, deep inside her,
then felt her jerk up toward him several more times, the lips of
her cunt working and sucking at his cock as if to draw the very
life from him. Her breathing came in short, desperate gasps, and
he thrust deep once again, suddenly sensing his own hot, seething
sperm shoot from the nozzle of his shaft far up into her soft,
quaking belly.
Madeleine moaned incessantly as his jerking prick continued
to squirt its long hot streams into her and his body trembled
violently against hers. She gave a sudden shrill squeal and
screwed herself up onto his already deflating rod, holding herself
there while her loins worked up and down of themselves, and he
continued to pummel his finger in her widely stretched rectum ...
And then, she expelled her breath in one long, deep sigh,
slowly collapsing beneath him, her body shaking and quivering in
the aftermath of her climax, and he eased his finger from her back
passage as he lowered his lips to hers.
He rolled off of her and they lay silent for a long moment.
Finally, she said: "It was good, Cheri ... so good, eh?"
"Christ, yes ... it was beautiful. I-I'm exhausted, ma
chere." He, too, sighed. "Aaaahhhh ... let's sleep awhile now,
eh?"
"Oui, Cheri," she whispered, laying her hand on his arm.
"Now, sleep ..."
He did, almost immediately.
Madeleine smiled to herself. She was getting much better at
it ... losing the little revulsions she had harbored for so long
against the perversions that delighted men ... even growing to
enjoy them more each time herself. So ... practice made
perfection; was not that the rule of thumb? It wouldn't be long
now ... and life was bearable at worst. He was good to her ...
helped her ... had taught her much in the art ... And on Sundays
now, after mass, she was able to see Igat and take her to the zoo
or park for a few hours; but of course she couldn't go to the
house to visit, or telephone there, nor make herself a nuisance in
any respect to Madame Girarde ... but she was certain it wouldn't
be much longer now.
With what she made as a cocktail waitress, plus her growing
exclusive clientele since she had begun to prostitute herself, she
felt confident that it would not be long before she had enough
saved to steal her little Igat and run away to some city in the
states where no one would ever find them.
The Blessed Mother wouldn't desert her; she felt sure of
that. One had to have faith, such as she had. Mon Dieu, hadn't
she made an offering a week at mass ever since Antoine was sent to
prison? What further assurance could she have ...? But ... still
... still there was Uncle Gaston ... if he ever found her ... God,
if he ever found her ... She shuddered silently and rolled to her
side to try and sleep as best she could ... knowing all the while
that it was just a question of time until he did ... just a
question of time ...
Chapter 13
Madeleine Poirier knew very little about him except that he
was an acquaintance of Rafael Girarde and in a governmental
capacity, which automatically classified him as a person of some
prominence. His name was Julian Forrest and he was a civilian
Inspector of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police from Ottawa,
undoubtedly in Montreal on official business. For all of his
fifty-odd years, he was not unhandsome, and Madeleine was not
offended when he approached her. He had brought it off rather
smoothly the night before at the Salle de Venus-Apollon where she
served as hotesse for M. Girarde, the club owner--and in some
respects, her benefactor these past bitter months--carefully
choosing an appropriate time when Rafael would not overhear.
She had appreciated that. Rafael Girarde had been good to
her and she wanted in no way to offend him, but by the same token,
business was business, and she had her own goals that neither
Rafael nor her income as club hostess was going to make
attainable. As matters stood, she still kept Tuesday and Friday
nights generously open to her employer at her place, and she felt
quite certain that he had no idea of her private and selective
circle of gentlemen friends upon whom she graciously bestowed her
voluptuous charms for a substantial fee at tightly scheduled, pre-
arranged tete-a-tetes. She was no prostitute, per se, and
resented being approached as one. Julian Forrest must have
assumed this, she thought, as she taxied toward his hotel that
warm September afternoon.
She smiled to herself, her lush red lips parting slightly to
display a dazzling row of white, even teeth. Her deep dark eyes
sparkled in anticipation and she squirmed gently down into the
leather cushion feeling the tightness of her panties tauten
against the already moistened crevice between her legs. Thank
God, she enjoyed her work, she mused, and that, too, she owed to
Rafael. He was a fine lover and had taught her much. She had
reason to be grateful to him; he had taken her under his wing
after Antoine, her husband, had been sent to prison, aided her
financially, found her an apartment and helped her evade the
powerful and lecherous hands of Gaston Larreau, her own husband's
nefarious "uncle". Yes, indeed, she owed Rafael Girarde much ...
yet, she would hurt him, she knew, hurt him terribly before
another year came to pass ...
Well, enough of those thoughts, she decided firmly. The
tall, handsome and greying Julian Forrest was a more pleasant
contemplation. His still-athletic physique beneath the
exquisitely tailored suit had intrigued her. His smile had
suggested sincerity, perhaps, even honesty, while his pale-blue
eyes had portrayed the delights of the mischievous libertine, but
in essence it had been his suave approach and delicate proposal
she had succumbed to ... plus his wallet.
"I'm not a man who chooses feminine companionship
haphazardly, my dear," he had said to her in his rich baritone
voice, the well modulated French rolling off his tongue with a
decided Parisian flavor. Then, strangely enough, in English he
had added: "But you are breathtaking, ma chere."
"And you are married, Inspector," she replied, almost as a
matter of form. "Besides, you're a personal friend of Rafael's."
"Isn't everyone?" he said, reverting back to French and
laughing as he spoke. "Good God, at fifty a man should have
twenty years of married life behind him and a son or two to prove
it. And certainly every official in Canada knows and claims
friendship with the Minister of Government, Rafael Girarde, eh?"
She had laughed lightly. "You put it all so nicely,
Inspector Forrest. Tell me ... do I look like one of those
girls?"
"Heaven forbid! You've misunderstood my luncheon
invitation," he had said, his square handsome face assuming an
embarrassed, if, awed expression. "How can I ever apologize and
make you understand ..."
"Please don't, M'sieu'. It's not necessary."
"But I feel like a cad ..."
She had laughed once more. "I like you the way you were ...
and shall we say about two-ish tomorrow ...?"
"T-Two-ish ...?" he repeated, his iniquitous rogue's eyes
beginning to dance excitedly. "You overwhelm me, Ma'm'selle ..."
"It's Madame, darling, and there is a fee attached," she had
said quite matter-of-factly.
"Fee? Whatever it is, it's not enough. I'll double it," he
had responded, licking at his thin lips salaciously.
"And Rafael mustn't know. It would hurt him deeply, cheri.
I'm sure you understand."
"Of course, of course! The utmost decorum, darling. I
understand," he'd said in his rich depth of voice. "Ah ... what a
marvel you are, my dear. I wonder if he realizes how fortunate he
is to have such a mistress? But then ... I'm sure he does. Have
you met Madame Girarde and their adopted child, Igat? What a
splendid little girl. Beautiful ... beautiful child ..."
She could remember little of his conversation following the
mentioning of Igat. The name alone was like a paralyzing bolt of
lightning jolting through her whenever it was spoken. Even now as
she recalled his throaty voice rolling the name from his lips, a
sensation of agonized longing spiraled through her. Her eyes
moistened and she bit at her full, lower lip. Had she met their
adopted child ...? Dear God ... her own baby! Her own Igat! Why
else was she living but for the day when they would be together,
away from all of this ... her own sweet little darling, Igat ...?
Damn ... she had to get a hold on herself, and right away.
Certainly, she couldn't walk into his suite in this mood or he'd
quickly lose his double-fee ideas. Double fee ... hmmmmm ... four
hundred dollars ... not an untidy sum ... and she intended to hold
him to his promise. Four hundred ... that would make her twenty-
two hundred in the bank. Mother of God, it was coming so
beautifully. The novenas in church were helping, she was certain.
She must give him equal value for his money, and she was certain
that would be no problem. If there was any problem at all, it was
she, herself; it wasn't right that she should enjoy it as she did
... Sometimes, she was not so certain but what the stigma of Rahab
coursed through her veins ... and maybe these walls of lust she
was imprisoning herself within would be as vulnerable as those of
Jericho when the trumpets sounded ... She shuddered at her own
aphoristic thoughts.
"You said Hotel Victoria, Ma'm'selle?" the cabbie questioned,
raising his head and cocking an ear.
"Oui."
"Merci. My mind was elsewhere, I guess," he bantered in a
form of apology.
Madeleine looked through the window at the busy streets.
They were nearing Dominion Square. As always, the city intrigued
her ... had since the first day she set foot in it. How long ago
...? Nearly five years ... almost six since she'd left the small
fishing village of her birth on the Peninsule De Gaspe with the
American named Keel who was to take her to Boston. She had been
sixteen, nearly seventeen, and he'd fathered her Igat in her
ignorance, left her stranded in Riviere du Loup ... Oh God, she
didn't want to think anymore about that! She just had to get hold
of herself. Inspector Forrest was not to be disappointed by some
morbid mood she allowed to seize hold of her. Heaven knows, there
were too many lonely, dismal hours of reminiscence already in her
days and nights without stealing from more pleasurable moments.
What she really needed was a drink, a little something to
stimulate ... to rekindle her sensual appetite of such a short
time before, and the gallant Inspector would take care of that,
she felt sure. She must cultivate him to the fullest extent; he
represented the ultimate in clientele and a bit of uncontrollable,
egotistical bragging on his part to his associates could do much
toward increasing her income and at a rapid, pleasing rate. Then,
she would put it all behind her, this entire existence ...
completely obliterate it from her mind ... just she and her little
Igat together at last ... mother and child ... a nice apartment in
some large city where no one would ever find them. Igat would
start school and she would find a respectable job ... maybe in a
fashionable ladies shop ... or even as a model ... But first, she
must accumulate the five thousand dollars she felt to be the
necessary minimum figure they would have to have ...
"Hotel Victoria, Ma'm'selle," the cabbie said, interrupting
her thoughts. He swiveled around in his seat in order to gain a
better view of his voluptuous, blonde-haired passenger. He
offered her his best broken-toothed smile and looked at her
gorgeous nylon-encased leegs and thighs beneath the short
fashionable miniskirt. Lustfully, his avid little eyes ravaged
her, the straining points of her firm, full breasts against the
lowcut bodice of her dress causing his mouth to go cotton-dry.
Bitch, he thought. She was a whore; he'd bet his godamned life
she was a whore and that her below-the-shoulder length blonde hair
was bleached ... he'd bet his damned life on it ... "One fifty,
Ma'm'selle," he said, smiling. She'd be expensive, all right ...
that she would ... he could never afford her ... the bitch ...
Madeleine handed him two one-dollar bills and he sought
change but she told him to keep it. He brushed his hand against
her knee reaching over to twist the door handle and she shifted in
the seat until he could see almost to her panties. Damn her, the
bitch, she was a whore for certain!
"Merci, Ma'm'selle."
She stepped from his cab, hesitated momentarily, then entered
the revolving door of the lobby while he watched the gentle,
provocative sway to her full, rounded hips as she walked ...
watched until the concierge motioned him on irritably and he
roared off with a squeal of rubber. Damn, how he wished that he
was the customer she was visiting. He sighed heavily as he
wheeled dangerously into the stream of traffic.
Chapter 14
Shannon was but part of his name, not the first nor the last, but
the middle, after his mother's people, and he chose it as his only
identification when they released him from prison rather than to
use an alias. Should he resort to the full Andrew Shannon
Connelly there were those, he felt, who might remember him,
although it was doubtful there in Canada. Generally, the
sportsminded were hockey people, some football, but baseball had
yet to come into its own, even with the new Montreal Expos; still,
he wanted no ties nor to be reminded of that segment of his life
if only by chance, and especially now with what he had in mind.
He'd been sixteen-years in the majors, a husky corn-fed farm
boy of eighteen from upstate New York in the beginning, foregoing
college in '47 to sign with St. Louis, and later with Boston,
then Milwaukee. He'd been good, having two no-hitters to his
credit with the Sox, and great things still expected of him even
at thirty-four, but Maggi had ended all of that.
Maggi Delaney Connelly, his wife of thirteen years, mother of
Paulie, their six-year old son, had been an ardent baseball lover,
an excellent hostess, and a godamned promiscuous woman. One
afternoon in July, six-years past, Paulie, left alone had struck
his head on the side of their swimming pool, tumbled into the
water and drowned. He, Shannon, had been in Chicago and they'd
wired him there. It was two days following the funeral that a
friend advised him of seeing Maggi in a bar with a man at the time
the accident occurred.
He'd said nothing to her, only pretended to return to the
team. That night he'd found them together in his bed and
attempted to kill them both with his bare hands. He might have
succeeded, he remembered, had not Maggi managed to floor him from
behind with a chair, knocking him unconscious and breaking his arm
... his left arm ... his pitching arm.
But the ironical part had come later when her lover, who had
turned out to be a prominent, local political hack, had engineered
an attempted murder charge against him and made it stick, netting
him a year and a day in prison. When it was done, a bitter ex-
baseball player named Andy Connelly was advised by a benevolent
warden that he might do better in another part of the country ...
or even another country. Had he thought about that?
In fact, he'd thought about a lot of things, and that was but
one of them. Divorced, broke and overflowing with hate, he had
migrated north of the border, found employment in a small factory
in Ontario, then, fumbled a stupid attempt to hijack its payroll.
So, once again here he was, five-years later, no less bitter,
but seasoned, and happy to be breathing free air once more as he
walked along a side street off St. Catherine in the warm
September sunshine, enjoying the pleasurable sounds of Montreal's
bustling activity. Twenty years had passed since his last visit
to the fabulous city ... since that exhibition game with
Montreal's then International League team, and he was satisfied
that its stellar attraction had not changed ... the women were
still beautiful ... and God, how he needed one.
A half-dozen times he paused to ogle after a pair of pretty
legs or a voluptuous figure wearing a piled-up, exotic coiffure
... radical, ridiculous, but beautiful ... slender ankles, rounded
calves and curvaceous hips and buttocks ... tripping off on high,
needle-like heels in every damned direction. Christ, it was
enough to set him wild; his love-starved cock jerked
uncontrollably in his pants. He didn't intend that another day
would go by without him knowing the satisfaction of a woman's
warm, soft, receptive body. How he'd gone these last forty-eight
hours since his release was almost more than he could fathom right
at the moment, but then, with a little thought that wasn't too
difficult to reason either.
There were other things besides the need for normal sexual
satisfaction one became obsessed with when he was buried "inside"
... and in this case it had been a plan to extort a half-million
dollars. A thousand and one nights he had lain awake plotting,
planning, learning all he could from his vindictive cellmate,
Antoine Poirier, regarding the latter's infamous crime czar
"uncle", Gaston Larreau; until he was certain he had devised a
workable scheme. Nothing else seemed to matter all those long
months and years except this fantastic coup that was going to even
every score for him, even the medieval torture of being denied the
biological need for a woman.
At first, when he'd walked onto the street and heard the big
gate clang shut behind him the sensation of being a free man once
more had nearly over-powered him. By god, he was going to kick
things off with a few drinks, then, a woman, and he was going to
fuck that doll, whoever she would be, until she couldn't walk,
until he'd drained the last drop of stored-up semen from his
aching, ravenous loins ... but he hadn't done either. Instead,
he'd gone directly to the CNR station, bought a ticket for
Montreal and spent the day enroute, his brain cogitating in a
never-ending pattern of hashing and rehashing, for it was the
enormity of such a scheme and the aftermath should it fail that
caused him to break out in periodic cold sweats.
The big gamble existed in the fact that he was playing at a
game he knew nothing about, where the stakes, win or lose, were
the ultimate ... financially fixed for life, or very, very dead.
The payroll escapade had been a foolhardy thing; the proof of that
had been his tackling it single-handed and without a carefully
prepared program. They'd caught him flat-footed. This time, he
intended to minimize the gamble with methodical planning. There
was no room for error, or else he would damn sure wind up in a
basket; not that he feared death so much, but it was the
uncontrollable ways one could achieve the state that bothered him.
Anyway, his carefully conceived plans called for a woman and
one he could trust all the way. Tony Poirier had lauded the
praises of his voluptuous young wife the entire length of time
that they'd shared a cell, long enough and with sufficient
enthusiasm to lead Shannon to believe that she might be just the
accomplice he was looking for ... if he could enlist her help.
He'd told Tony nothing of his intentions, simply picked his brains
until he was satisfied that he knew Madeleine Poirier as well as
did the young husband, himself, even to every inch of the soft,
white flesh of her delicious body ... and this was why he hadn't
wasted any time sating his immediate carnal desires. He'd managed
to survive for five years and another day or so wasn't beyond his
realm of endurance; besides, from the small picture that Tony kept
of her on the wall above his bunk, plus the untold hours he had
listened dry-mouthed with his prick anvil-hard and throbbing
painfully while the Frenchman expounded on her sexual charms and
abilities, he was convinced it was going to be worth the extra
short abstinence.
Of course, there were still questions he had no way of
knowing the answers to, yet; questions like: how much had she
changed since Tony'd been sent to prison? Did she still love him?
What was she doing; how was she getting along? Could she really
be trusted ... and was he going to have to rape her, or would she
fuck willingly? Because he damned sure intended to have her, one
way or the other.
He'd formed a few ideas of his own and based them on the fact
that her letters to her husband had fallen off to one every two or
three weeks, and dropped from six and seven pages to one ... it
all added up to one thing, little Madeleine had had it with her
Tony. New things were in the wind for her, which might well play
right into his hand. Besides, he still had his main ace-in-the-
hole ... her kid, and this was what he was counting on to swing
things his way.
Shannon's mind churned busily as he hailed a cab, gave the
address he had copied from one of her letters to Tony, and leaned
back to contemplate his financial situation briefly. It wasn't
what he could call sound; he had fifty-three dollars to his name
and he was going to need a little bundle to set the wheels in
motion. Someway, somewhere, somehow, he had to garner a sizeable
stake, and for some reason he was convinced that Madeleine Poirier
was also going to be his answer in this department.
The cabbie swung around the corner onto a narrow side street
and slowed to study the housenumbers. Shannon noted the semi-
shabbiness of the section with its near-ugly three and four
storied red-brick buildings and their long ascending porch-steps.
Momentarily, he speculated that Tony's little wife might not be
making it too well and this didn't please him.
The Frenchman pointed out the right entrance and Shannon
hopped out, paying but ignoring the tip.
"Merci, m'sieu'," the driver stressed sarcastically tossing
his fare a disgusted side glance, as he pulled away from the curb
with a squeal of rubber.
Shannon spat after him and cursed under his breath. Lousy
frog. He climbed the steps irritably, hardly prepared to walk
into the building superintendent. He had just entered the dingy,
musty-smelling vestibule when the other appeared out of nowhere
before him, a thin, narrow-shouldered, elderly Englishman with a
fat little belly and a pinched face. His hair had long left him
and his eyes bore a strange cloudiness about them that reminded
Shannon of a junkie he had known a long time before in Syracuse.
The little man looked at Shannon's six-feet from head to toe,
appraising the close cropped, almost white hair, the hard blue
eyes and straight lipped mouth in a manner that indicated he
didn't like what he saw.
"Well?" he said with a near cockney accent.
"Madeleine Poirier? She live here?"
"Maybe. Who're you?"
"Which apartment?" asked Shannon, ignoring the question.
"She ain't in. Saw her leave a couple of hours ago," the
little man told him snidely, working his milky-eyes up and down
Shannon's face once more. "Who're you, anyway?"
"Her brother."
His pinched face twisted into a contemptuous grin. "Now I've
got yuh, wise guy. You don't look like her; you don't look French
either. So, let's try a better one, eh ..."
Shannon lost patience. He caught him by his long necktie,
winding it around his big hand until his fist was shutting off the
breath in the other's windpipe. "Which apartment, Pop?" he hissed
without moving his lips.
The Englishman attempted to swallow. It seemed difficult.
"You ... you better not try any rough stuff here, mister," he
gasped, the haze temporarily clearing from his eyes. "This is a
respectable house, see ... No rough stuff ... I ... I don't know
anything about her ... I ain't sure she lives here ... okay ...?"
Shannon let go of him and stepped back. He sighed and
brought bills from his pocket, peeling off one of the precious
tens and extending it to him.
"W-Well ... well," the little man stammered, simultaneously
massaging his throat while his eyes darted from the money up to
Shannon's face. "W-Why didn't you say you were her brother?" He
made a more acceptable grin and grabbed at the money, shoving it
deep into his shirt pocket. "Follow me ... I'll let you in to
wait for her, eh? She ought to be 'long any time. Been gone
quite awhile now." He winked and spun around.
"Thanks," said Shannon drily, falling in behind him to climb
the stairs.
"Yeah ..." he repeated as he led the way to the third floor,
"... should've told me that in the first place, mister ..."
Chapter 15
Madeleine doubted that she would ever get over her timorousness at
a first appointment with a new patron. Perhaps in time, when, and
if, one became seasoned, a certain callousing metamorphosis took
place, but so far in her short career she'd noted no such
mutation. In fact, at the moment, standing in the luxurious
living-room of Julian Forrest's elegant suite before the
appraising, lecherous eyes of the handsome Inspector, she sensed a
tiny shiver begin at the calves of her legs to creep up over the
satin-smooth flesh of her body and along her spine in an emotional
blend of trepidation and sensual anticipation. The latter somatic
reaction surprised her, but she couldn't seem to help herself; his
imposing masculinity just seemed to set her off in a carnal manner
she could never recall experiencing before.
"Ah, my pet, you're very punctual," he said, smiling and
moving toward her with the suave charm and dash of a cavalier,
"and even more lovely than I remember ... if that's possible."
"You're too flattering, Inspector," she replied as he took
her soft, long-fingered hand inside his large, strong one, while
the other moved tantalizingly along the warm, smooth skin of her
arm almost to her shoulder, his fingertips brushing beneath to
tease at the velvety, erogenous flesh at the pit of her underarm.
The erotic sensation took her completely by surprise and she made
a little unintentional gasping sound.
Her reaction pleased as well as excited him and he drew her
closer, slipping his arms around her slender waist. Madeleine
looked up at him, her dark eyes unable to conceal her own arousal.
He held her gently but firmly, until she felt her full, erect
breasts flattening against his chest and then his hands were
moving downward to encompass the round full orbs of her buttocks
possessively.
"Let's dispense with the formalities, cherie," he whispered
in English, his strong hands teasing and massaging the smoothness
of her buttocks, ever drawing her closer into the solid strength
of his loins.
Once more, his overwhelming charm completely captivated her,
raising another little gasp in her throat. Ohhhh ... for certain,
she was going to enjoy this ... He lowered his head slowly,
completely engulfing her soft, wet mouth with his own lips, his
tongue sliding between her lips and against her teeth, sending an
ungovernable tremor rippling over her. He held her almost
crushingly, his large hands hot and moving as they pressed into
the spheres of her buttocks, forcing her pelvis tighter to him,
his height placing the still unhardened bulge of his penis snug
against the softness of her belly.
An unexplainable, little sense of injured pride at his lack
of immediate penial response to the physical contact of her body
caused Madeleine to begin a barely perceptible undulation of her
belly and pelvis as she opened her mouth to the exploration of his
tongue ... and then he was slowly drawing her down onto the
davenport, one massive hand moving to cup her full, round breast,
squeezing and kneading it gently.
"Ohhh ... ohhh," she moaned purposely, but not wholly with
pretense. "Y-You're not a lover who believes in wasting time,
cheri." She squirmed suggestively beneath his hands.
"There's hardly time to be wasted in this life, ma chere." he
half whispered, his hands investigating her soft, curvaceous body
as he leaned above her and played with her face with his tongue.
A barely audible whimpering sound escaped her, and suddenly
she was alive with sensation. His hands, his tongue, his whole
body and actions were setting her aflame with lewd, lascivious
desire. God, she couldn't remember ever feeling more wanton ...
or a more urgent need for sexual fulfillment ...
"Do you like to fuck?" he asked her, his face scant inches
above her own, and his sincere, sensual use of the lewd word
causing immediate prurient sensations to come alive and ripple
through her excitedly.
"Oui ... oui, I do cher," she answered quickly, without the
slightest trace of pretense, "When I have such a lover as you."
He chuckled warmly. "You are a clever little girl, ma chere.
You know the many ways to excite a man ... but I fear you have yet
to know Julian Forrest." He continued to smile down into her face.
He kissed the tip of her nose and his great hand went on caressing
her breast through her clothing.
Madeleine squirmed beneath his gentle, but stimulating touch.
She was not ashamed at her obviously growing desire; instead, she
was pleased and satisfied that she would have to put on no airs
for this man whom she wanted physically ... sexually, as was so
often the situation in this new-found profession she had
temporarily chosen. But, she wasn't about to wait much longer ...
She slipped her arms up and around his neck, drawing him down to
her kiss, forcing her tiny pink tongue into his mouth as she
writhed against him.
Finally, she said: "Make love to me, cheri."
"How?" he whispered hotly into her mouth.
"However you choose?"
"You ... you say that so flippantly," he hissed down at her.
"B-Because that's the way I feel," said Madeleine, trailing
her hand down over his chest toward his loins ... moving over his
flat, hard stomach to the front of his trousers, her long,
sensuous fingers seeking and exploring with gentle tenseness ...
at last to discover his still flaccid member lying docile inside
the protection of his clothing.
Her brow knitted and she stared up at him. He dropped his
eyes and looked away; finally, he turned from her and sat upright
on the edge of the chesterfield, his back to her.
"I-I'm sorry, cherie. I ... I had no right asking you to
come here ... not a warm blooded, normal young woman such as you.
It was a cruelty on my part ... but then, you see, I didn't expect
to regard you differently from the others." Suddenly, he arose and
walked toward a small corner bar. "What would you like ...
scotch, bourbon, a gimlet, perhaps?"
Madeleine raised to a supporting elbow. Something inside her
felt terribly denied, but as well had curiosity along with a
certain anger gripped her. She ran her tongue over her full lower
lip. "I'm afraid I don't understand, M'sieu'," she heard herself
say rather sharply. "I was under the impression that you ... you
desired my company ..."
"Oh God ... and you were so right ... so right, ma chere." He
began to blend drinks, finally, carrying back two glasses. He
seated himself on the edge of the couch and handed her one.
She took it and tasted it. It was a gimlet. She preferred
scotch. Well, whatever the hell it was, she needed it. She said:
"Why did you invite me here?"
"I wanted you," he replied simply.
"Wanted me ...?"
He turned to face her quickly, his handsome face breaking
into a smile, then a laugh ... a harsh, almost brittle laugh. "I
confuse you completely, don't I? Yes ... of course, I do. All
right ... it's time for explanations I suppose. Why not?" He
continued to smile down at her. "Ordinarily, I never explain my
dilemma ... but to you, I shall." He sipped at his drink. "You
see, ma chere, the war was not kind to me. Oh, not any of these
modern wars, but the second great war ... it eliminated my manhood
... not my desire, you understand, only my ability to be a man.
The physicians were understanding, kind, and expert for their time
... but they couldn't undo what a piece of shrapnel had done.
They could provide the flaccid entities, the appearance of
masculinity ... but there was no way on God's green earth they
could make them function ... Unfortunately, that little chunk of
shrapnel could only tear the flesh from my loins ... and not the
desire from my brain."
Madeleine gaped at him. Her stomach knotted and her heart
went out to him. Unconsciously, her hand reached for his. She
clutched and squeezed. Suddenly, she said: "You have no sons ...
no wife ... nothing but me, do you, cheri?"
He turned quickly, rage in his eyes ... but it melted before
her as she looked up at him, and in its place came glistening
tears. He didn't answer and it was then that she managed to sit
up beside him, take his face between her hands and kiss his mouth
warmly. Then, she pressed him backwards, down where she had lain,
and she kissed him again, even as her fingers began to unbutton
his coat and shirt, and tug at his tie.
She undressed him slowly, almost teasingly, kissing his naked
flesh wherever she bared it.
"My God!" he groaned. "I'll give you a thousand dollars ..."
"Shhhhh," she whispered, grasping at the band of his shorts
as he raised his hips. Slowly, she slid them down off his
muscular legs, the sight of his massive, limp prick lying unmoving
against the heavy testicles beneath arousing wild new delights
inside her. She could only imagine what an impressive, dynamic
organ it would be were it possible for it to rise to the occasion.
Yet, there was something sadistic and masochistic in the fact that
it could not ... that there was no way she could fulfill herself
upon it ... that this handsome specimen of masculinity was
suddenly and completely subservient to her in his shame, and
something akin to motherhood swelled up inside her, until
spontaneously, she took the thick lifeless instrument into her
hand and fell upon it with kisses.
He raised up and forced her back in his place, slowly,
teasingly undressing her. She felt him lift her up and the long
zipper of her dress being drawn provocatively down her back. She
closed her eyes, not thinking, assisting him wherever necessary
with the proper movements of shoulders and hips, raising and
lowering, not knowing why, feeling his gentle hands behind her
once more as they unfastened her bra, then, the cool rush of air
as her throbbing nipples were completely exposed to him ... and
she heard him gasp and felt his great hands enclose them hotly,
kneading, squeezing, rolling the nipples almost painfully between
his fingers, until finally his hot, wet mouth encompassed one, his
tongue flicking and rolling the sensitive bud maddeningly ... and
then the other in the same manner, his long wet tongue at last
trailing down through the deep narrow valley that separated them
... and her stomach muscles tensed as his tongue slithered down
her naked flesh, dipping momentarily into her navel ... taunting
it while his hands continued to massage her now aching breasts ...
and then, his hands left them, drawing down along her ribs to her
hips, his fingers catching the waistband of her sheer white
panties ... and she raised herself, her eyes still tightly closed.
Once more, she felt the cool rush of air as it brushed against her
warm vibrant thighs and loins; she obediently raised her legs,
allowing him to slip the wispy little garment down the long ivory
columns ... her eyes clenched pleasurably shut, her breathing
catching spasmodically in her throat causing her breasts to rise
and fall with a quivering wondrous delight that was spurring
Julian Forrest's libido to almost agonizing proportions.
He was mesmerized with the breathtaking loveliness of her as
she lay naked in her desire before him. Her sleek, firm body was
an entrancing combination of reversing golden curled lines ...
rising and arching contours of her swelling breasts and thighs ...
and then falling into the gentle concavity of her soft, smooth
white belly. He gaped at the velvetlike, raven-hued, silken hair
sparsely covering the juncture of her slightly spread thighs and
belying the golden tresses that tumbled about her shoulders. The
thin, pink, hairlined slit running the length of her open loins
caused his mouth to go dry. Christ! The inhuman torment of his
affliction! He'd go mad ...! His tongue moistened his thin lips
as he raised his head to watch the glazed expression in her now
open, exotic eyes.
Madeleine returned his gaze, neither able nor wanting to
check the carnality building inside her, and as he lay his hand
gently upon her thigh, tenderly sliding it along the white, satin
smooth flesh, she felt as though she were about to ignite within.
Lord, she had never felt this way with a man, any man ... not even
Antoine, her husband! Why? His touch was like a thousand volts
of electrical current surging through her, causing a myriad of
tiny explosions to burst inside her loins and belly, until of
their own volition her hands moved to her breasts caressingly,
thumbs and forefingers taunting and rolling their hardened nipples
wantonly.
God, what's done this to me? Certainly nothing I've drank,
or taken internally? I've never felt so ... so whorish in my
life! My God, I can't believe it! Why? He's just another man
... or is he? Can it be it? The fact that he can't perform ...
the fact that he's alive with desire inside and can't fulfill
himself ... Mon Dieu! Am I becoming some horrible kind of sadist
...?
Julian Forrest sucked in his breath at the unbelievable,
enchanting sight before him. He had enjoyed many, many young
women in his own necessarily resourceful ways, but never had there
been anyone like this ... never a morsel so lovely, so responsive.
Dear Christ, if only his cock could leap to the challenge ... how
he would fill her hot little belly then ... But that was wishful
thinking; even so, he could feel the blood pouring into its knob
hotly and knew that little driblets of thick, white seminal fluid
were seeping from its soft, helpless glans.
Suddenly, with thumbs pressed to either side of her hair-
lined cunt-lips, he tenderly spread the vertical slit open until
its moist, coral lusciousness was parted to him and his mouth fell
agape at its glistening, bejeweled splendor. He felt her warm,
soft, inner thighs quiver against the backs of his hands and heard
her breath catch deep down in her gasping throat. Skillfully, he
leaned closer and opened the soft fleshy inner petals enshrining
her clitoris, but this time licking out with the tip of his hot,
wet tongue, and he felt the erotic response of his touch jolt
through her convulsively.
"Oooohhh ... Ooohhhh, Darling, Darling ..." she moaned,
raising her head to gaze down with passion-filled eyes between her
proud, erect breasts at his lowered head buried between her
widespread thighs. Then, he was smiling up at her, the first
traces of an evil gleam coming to life in his now wildly excited
eyes, and causing the initial spasm of frightened, if, depraved
lust that would overwhelm and seize complete control of her before
the day was over. "Ooohhh!" she spasmed once more as his hot,
moist lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her belly,
and again his face disappeared from her view into the soft fleece
between her open legs as he showered wet, tantalizing kisses on
the closed vaginal fissure, his tongue flicking serpent-like at
the palpitating opening.
Suddenly, a prodigious sensation of power raced through her
and she thrust her loins upward toward his mouth. "Yes ... yes!
Lick it!" she heard herself hiss down at him as her hands
entangled themselves in his hair and she endeavored to pull him
tighter into her. "Lick my cunt! Ooohhh ... lick and suck it,
Darling ...!"
Her elbows pressed tightly against her ribs and her head
began to roll from side to side as his hot, searing tongue shot
out, its soft flicking tip circling her quivering erected
clitoris. "Oooohhhh," she moaned again while his lips sucked,
drawing the warm soft folds deep into the shelter of his gently
biting mouth, and his tongue continued its maddening licking
against the urgent pink smoothness of her open cunt.
From then on, Forrest worked hungrily, running his tongue up
and down the length of the narrow wet slit, starting at her lower
belly and pressing its way down, down over the elastic rimmed
opening of her clasping vagina and into the crevice of her flexing
buttocks where it sought out the tiny puckered hole of her anus,
laving it wetly and raising deep, husky groans from her chest.
Subconsciously, she lifted her legs, drawing her thighs back until
her knees touched her breasts, raising her hips and buttocks to
his delightful assault, and she heard her own purring, animal-like
sounds emitting passionately from between her lips.
She was a queen being humbly serviced by a lowly slave ...
her eunuch ... his only desire to please her ... to lick and suck
her cunt, or whatever other perversion she could think of ...!
Mon Dieu! I'm losing my mind with the wicked lust he's causing to
build inside me!
Beautiful, lovely cunt! thought Forrest. Oh, you exciting
little bitch! Now ... already, you're mine to play with ... Yes,
Yes ... all mine ... completely at my mercy!
Her groans drove his tongue faster as it worked its way up
and down the throbbing, quivering lips of her excited pussy.
Already, she was too far beyond the point of stopping him from
anything he chose to do to her, or demanded that she do to him.
Now, it was near time to get out his assortment of dildos. He
couldn't keep from gloating to himself as suddenly her hands were
clawing at his hair, attempting to guide his mouth back to the
small palpitating opening of her cuntal passage. Again he parted
the soft yielding pubic hair and thrust his tongue into the
velvety-rimmed flesh, taunting it momentarily, then quickly
withdrawing it to tantalize mercilessly the ragged pink edges
throbbing between her widespread legs.
Madeleine whimpered aloud and clutched at him, forcefully
pressing his mouth directly over the tight little hole in her
lustfully squirming loins.
She must not cum, he mused as he sucked ... must only work
herself up to that crucial, mind-shattering point ... but she must
never cum, or else his own sadistic climax would be ruined. She
must beg and plead and squirm like an animal while he tormented
her, and she must suck his dangling, flaccid prick as it hung
above her face ... yes ... yes, now it was time for that ...!
Once more, she cried aloud as she felt him pulling from her
grasp, then the strange movements of his muscular body, until
suddenly his loins were above her face, his long limp cock
dangling down only inches above her mouth, his heavy, hair-covered
balls swaying between his wide-spread thighs, and she clutched at
his buttocks to pull him down to her, her wet, ruby lips opening
to receive the massive purple head of his helpless, pendulous
cock, while he rammed his tongue deep into her moist, pink vagina,
rounding his lips and covering the clasping viscous opening in a
wild sucking performance that seemed to draw at her very entrails.
She moaned passionately around the limp flesh of his prick,
lifting her head and slipping her mouth further up onto it in her
insane effort to absorb all of it into her mouth and throat.
Maddeningly, she slashed at the soft, fleshy rod with her tongue,
working the foreskin back by pulling with thumb and forefinger at
its wide base, simultaneously sucking strongly at its head as one
might in drawing the fruit of a grape from its skin; then she
cupped his great balls in both hands, massaging and squeezing them
as she ground her cunt hungrily and lasciviously up into his face.
Forrest could feel the wet, gently throbbing flesh of her
cuntal passage slip moistly around his long extended tongue as the
walls of her invaded vagina opened and closed in a sucking motion
of its own, as if it were attempting to extract his tongue deeper
and deeper into it.
Madeleine was nearly lost in the lust-inspired rapture of the
moment. Wildly, she sucked at the limber prick in her mouth,
swallowing it into her throat and letting him pull it free, only
to repeat the act, while every muscle in her lovely desire-wracked
body tensed as she strained her hips upward toward that maddening,
searching tongue between her legs.
Oh God, she must make him happy ... fulfill him as he was
her! She must earn her fee ... oh good Lord! It'd never been
like this with anyone! It was beautiful ... she loved it ...
loved him ... loved everyone ...! Ohhhh, Igat, Igat ... my baby
... for you ... it's for you ... yes, yes ... Oh, suck it ... suck
it, Lover! "Ummmmmmm," she moaned around his prick in her mouth,
her drawn-up legs opening and closing around the tormenting head
that held the gluttonously slashing tongue licking at her
inflamed-seared cunt. The cords of her neck and thighs stood out
as savagely she sucked and pulled at his long, flaccid prick in
eager response to the delight he was bringing her.
"Ohhhhh ... Ummmmmm," she mewled and purled, splaying her
legs out wider and wider to the sides, allowing him greater access
to her wildly wanting pussy.
Forrest could stand it no longer. Abruptly, he raised his
head and reached out for the drawer of the small table at the foot
of the davenport, while Madeleine squirmed and writhed frantically
in search of the pleasure-giving tongue that had suddenly deserted
her. She spewed his prick from her mouth and whined: "Don't stop!
My God ... please ... don't stop now! Just a little longer, cheri
..."
Forrest sniggered lewdly as he withdrew a chest of rosewood
from the drawer and flipped it open to display an assortment of
six different sizes and shaped dildos. He moved off of her then
and rose to his knees between her widespread legs to hold the open
chest for her surveillance.
"Have you ever seen such a magnificent collection of cocks,
cherie." he grinned as he questioned with salacious delight.
Dumbfounded, yet still alive with the incessant desire
permeating her lust-wracked body, Madeleine stared at the almost
human-looking penises that lay side by side in their erected state
within the velvet-lined chest. From them, she raised her eyes
questioningly to the handsome, if now, slightly demented appearing
face of Julian Forrest.
"I ... I don't understand ..." she managed shaking her head
in confusion. "You ... you want to use one of those on me ...?"
"So ...? You're surprised?" he snapped. "How else? Would
you expect me to fuck you with this?" He grabbed his long, limp
penis and shook it uselessly before her.
"I ... I was satisfied with what you were doing, cheri ..."
she assured him. "It was beautiful ..."
"Enough!" he said sharply. "I'm paying the price, ma chere,
eh? You'll do as I say ... as I want. Agreed?"
"O-Oui, Cheri, h-however you say," replied Madeleine, an
inward shudder of fear rippling through her at his cold, decisive
statement. So ... after all, she was only a whore, wasn't she?
He chuckled lewdly. "Now my little cunt, you'll see why I
pay you so well for my pleasures." He held forth the chest once
more. "Choose your weapon. Which do you like ... the seven,
eight or nine inch prick? The seven has an inch-and-one half
diameter, the eight, one-and-three-quarters ... and the nine, a
marvelous two-inches. Well .... which one, ma chere."
Madeleine stared at the members that appeared as if they
might have been severed from human male forms ... even to the
attached testicles ... perfectly contoured in every way.
"Well? Well?" he shot at her edgily.
"T-The small one, I think," she answered finally, her eyes
dropping from his.
Forrest laughed. "Just as I thought." But as he spoke he
reached for the eight-inch phallus and its matching mate beside
it. "You'll need the eight, my love," he said, matter-of-factly.
He smiled. "After all, I've had a better look at that little cunt
of yours than you have, eh? And we do want you to enjoy this ...
seeing as how you'll be doing all of the work."
Madeleine watched, another sensation of fear soaring through
her as he took the two resilient members and screwed them together
at their bases, making one long, double dildo. Then, from the
chest, he took a small jar of what looked to be lubricating cream
and coated one, but not the other. Her eyes sought his, found
them and he smiled lustily.
"You're about to take part in a private perversion of my own,
cherie." he said, licking at his lips licentiously. "You'll see,
it's been a long time since I've been able to experience normal
sex; therefore, it was necessary to devise my own methods. My
satisfaction is achieved through the prostate gland ... as yours
is reached through normal intercourse of that magnificent little
cunt. So ... we approach love from a new angle, with the male
being the passive member. Do you understand?"
Madeleine gaped at him. "I-I'm not sure ..."
"Damn!" he spat. "Lay back and spread your thighs, my little
cunt, while I work this into you. Then, perhaps you'll get the
drift."
"B-But ..."
"Shut up, and do as I say!" Forrest snarled, his smile
suddenly leaving him. "Don't make me rape you with this, my love
... or you might be just a bit sorry."
Slowly, Madeleine lay back, opening her thighs reluctantly as
she gaped at the massive two-ended weapon he held in his hand. It
occurred to her then, that any desire she had enjoyed before had
suddenly escaped her. Instead, a void of emptiness clutched
fearfully at the base of her stomach and she stared with awe at
the vicious looking double-cudgel in his hand. Dear God, what was
he going to do to her?
"Wider! Open them wider, bitch!" Forrest snarled and she did
as he pressed the bulging artificial knob toward her cunt's
defensively clasping opening. At its touch, she spread her legs
out wider automatically, as far as she could, raising her knees
slightly in an effort to open herself enough to accept the wicked
device he was gleefully introducing into her arching vagina.
"Oh ... Ooohhh ... it's so big ...! Oh God I'm afraid! I
can't do it! I can't take it, cheri!"
The words gushed from her lips fearfully as he jostled its
tip for a moment against the pink, ragged edges of flesh, then,
with a flick of his wrist the lust incited man forced the flesh-
like plastic tip brutally into the vibrating lips of her hair-
lined cunt, expanding the resisting, elastic opening almost to the
ripping point.
Madeleine's head lurched wildly to the side and she half-
screamed.
"Aaaagggghhhhh!"
Forrest chuckled evilly. It had penetrated but a cruel inch,
and the pain-tortured, struggling young lovely tried desperately
to kick her legs free and escape the tormenting impalement as she
clawed at it with her hands. But it was easy for him to subdue
and hold her helpless.
Oh Jesus! Mother of God! Mercy! Mercy! What kind of
monster had she uncovered! He would rip her from one end to the
other! Her cunt-lips were tearing ... her whole crotch splitting!
The pain was unbelievable! Mercy ... mercy ...!
Forrest watched her with wildly excited, lustfilled eyes. He
grinned loose-mouthed as he forced the relentless blunt weapon
into her one more excruciating inch.
"Uuuuuuuggggggghhhhh!"
Again.
"Aaaaggggghhhhhh ... Oh God ... Stop! Stop! You're killing
me ... my God ...!"
She shrieked and continued to shriek, twisting and writhing,
kicking her legs high into the air as he sunk the enormous,
unbelievable, artificial cock deeper and deeper up into her
screaming cunt.
"Oh ... Ooooohhh noooo, noooo!" Madeleine sobbed almost
hysterically, tears streaming painfully from her open but unseeing
eyes. "Scream, you whimpering bitch!" Julian Forrest spat
gleefully. "Scream! Scream! But you're going to take all of it
... every last inch ... and love it, do you hear? Love it!"
He was insane, Madeleine reasoned somewhere in the back of
her tortured brain. He was an absolute maniac and he intended to
kill her with this vicious thing he'd impaled up inside her
helpless belly. There was no hope ... she'd gone too far this
time. "Ooohhh.... oh God in heaven ... please ..." she wailed,
and her sobbing, struggling protests brought a sudden crushing jab
from his hands thrusting the torture implement into her, sending
the giant mock-cock deep into her resisting channel, forcing huge
ripples of tender, coral flesh in rolling swells before it. She
lurched convulsively as the onslaught of the elephantine dildo
smashed into her belly like some rutting brute-animal. It was an
uncontainable instrument of torture rampaging inside her,
completely, without question, filling her every tiniest wrinkle
and crowding her inner organs into crushed squashes that could
neither breathe nor move. It was lurching for her throat, trying
to burst from her mouth. It was unbelievable torment ... medieval
torture ... some horror out of the inquisition itself ...!
And then ... it came to an end ... the maddening pain! He
withdrew it and plunged it into her in rapid, impossible thrusts,
his fist where he clutched it slapping hard against her crotch.
His wrist insinuated itself into the soft, unprotected vale of her
wildly spread ass-cheeks. The colossal dildo nuzzled quiescently
to its guarding flanges, interred in her pulsating and stretched
cunt like some barbaric, chastising instrument of torture.
"Aaaa-aggg-hhh," her lovely lips breathed in welcomed relief.
"Soooo? It's good, eh, cherie?" Forrest probed excitedly.
"Better than you ever imagined? It fills your cunt to the very
depths of your tight little belly, doesn't it? Eh? Well? Admit
it! Admit it, damn you ..."
"Yes! Yes! Go on! Fuck it!" she half screamed in her
helpless humiliation and agony. "Ram the bastardly thing into me!
Damn you, fuck it if that's what you want!"
Forrest threw back his head and laughed. It was even better
with her than he could possibly have dreamed. She had taken all
of it ... all of it ... in that tight little hole of hers!
Christ! "All right! All right! Now it's your turn for fun ...
your turn to torture me, ma chere!"
Madeleine heard his words, but had no idea what he was
talking about. Her entire body was covered with a thin film of
perspiration from the agonies of her subjugated torture, and
momentarily, she wanted only to lie there and grow accustomed to
this massive, if now, stimulating weapon he had rammed into her.
But, he was pulling at her, trying to haul her to her knees and
swinging his ass around to face her. "Hurry! Fuck my ass with
it, bitch! Shove it into me just as I shoved it into you! Only
you leave it in your cunt ... eight inches in your pussy and eight
inches in my asshole! Well ... Godamn you, do you want me to beat
you? Hurry!"
Madeleine couldn't believe her hearing. In her lifetime she
had never been subjected to perversions of this length. She had
heard of them ... the weird things that men and women did together
and with those of their own gender, but she'd never seen nor
participated ... Yet, something of a sado-masochistic nature swept
over her and she felt her breaths shortening, her mouth drying in
anticipation. Was it because he had tormented her and this was a
manner of getting even? Or was it the very idea of what they were
doing? She didn't know ... but God, she wanted to ... to thrust
the blunt end of the lubricated dildo right up into his tightly
puckered rectum.
Her breasts heaved as she got to her knees behind him, moving
between his spread legs toward his hair-covered thighs and
buttocks, her eyes fastened lewdly upon the fringed crevice of his
parted ass-cheeks, the exciting sight of his massive, dangling
balls, and the round, puckered entrance of his dark-brown anus.
She held to the dildo thrust tight up into her cunt, feeling it
massage warmly against her passage walls as she kneed herself
forward, holding the eight inches of soft, protruding flesh-like
plastic in her hand much as any man who was about to mount a woman
might, sensing untold pleasures of sadistic delight spiral through
her.
Open-mouthed and nearly glassy-eyed, she rotated the head of
the fake prick around the prunelike mouth of his asshole, the
movement causing the other end of the mighty instrument to incite
new sensations within her own loins. God! It was unbelievable!
She had never dreamed such distorted, depraved innovations. Her
delighted loins and belly tingled in perverted rapture. She
stared down at his tiny puckered anal orifice, then ran the
massive simulated cock below, caressing his balls and slipping
between his legs in tantalizing stimulation.
Dear God, she was losing all sense of perspective ... but she
didn't care ... she didn't! She taunted his clenching asshole
with her long fingernail. He gasped aloud and lowered his face
and shoulders to the davenport, forcing his buttocks higher in the
air. Slowly, she pressed her finger into the rubbery, tight
orifice and he whimpered. Her eyes bugged and her mouth hung
loose as she watched her finger slip up inside the clasping,
sucking hole, into the warm velvety flesh, never stopping until
the long length of her entire finger was buried there, the palm of
her hand resting in the separating crevice between the cheeks of
his ass, her three other fingers with their long nails reaching
downward to taunt the base of his balls.
Her brain whirled. She was losing all sense of reason with
the perverted pleasure overwhelming her. She was a whore! A
paid, vile, whore ... and this was her reward! Oh God! Oh God!
Help me ...!
"Get it in, damn you! What am I paying you for, you stupid
cunt! Get it into me, you hear! In! In! In!"
She did. Unmercifully so. Pressing the bulging, rubbery
head to the tight, drawn entrance of his rectum, she clenched her
teeth and shoved ... rammed was a better word, steeling herself to
oppose the pressure of the inserted end into her vagina as it
forced itself almost brutally against her cervix, hearing him
scream aloud, yet, simultaneously forcing his buttocks back onto
the invading cudgel, and she clutched at his hips gouging her
nails into his flesh as she thrust and forced and ground the
wicked implement right up his waiting asshole to the hilt.
"Oh ... Ohhhhhh! Fuck it! Fuck it, you stupid cunt!" he
screamed back at her. "Don't stop, godamn you, or I'll beat you
senseless!"
She didn't. She was too frightened to stop. Instead, she
worked demonlike, knowing for the first time in her life what it
might be like to be the male partner ... listening to him whimper
and purl with delight as she sent the massive dildo up his
passage, and at the same time enjoying the pleasure of the huge
artificial cock that was reaming and exciting her pussy to an
extravagant culmination.
"Bend over me! Lay your tits on my back! Hold tight, and
reach around underneath and milk my prick. Milk it, godamn you!"
Forrest wailed back at her as he shoved his ass back onto the
inhumanly penetrating dildo, at the same time forcing the opposite
end up deep into her cunt.
Excited with her own mounting and approaching climax,
Madeleine thrust her loins against his bottom, forcing the plastic
phallus far up his ass and simultaneously ramming it deeply into
her quivering pussy. Never before had she experienced anything
like this and her overwhelming feeling of power and maleness was
almost more than she could bear. She had to cum ... had to have
release, or she'd explode.
She lay forward onto his massive back, grinding her breasts
into his flesh, as her hand sought his wide-spread crotch beneath,
clasping his limp prick and milking it according to his demand,
the never ceasing feeling of dominance growing, growing inside
her, pressuring her own building climax toward dynamic
proportions.
Insanely, she slammed the dildo into both of them, her
rounded hips working almost fiendishly ... until suddenly, he
began to wail, whimper, nearly scream in a child-like voice.
"Milk it! Milk it, bitch! I'm going to cum. Now ... now
... nowwwww!"
Madeleine straightened to her knees and plunged the
instrument into him, feeling and watching her breasts quiver and
jerk against her, sensing her own beginning stirring of climax
inside her loins. She leaned forward once more and again began to
madly milk his long, thick, flaccid prick ... and then he cried
out as might a banshee, his arms flailing and his ass jumping
spasmodically, even as she felt the thick, warm, liquid bath drain
from his cock onto her hand and the davenport beneath, and she
plunged into his ass wildly in an effort to attain her own
release.
"Oh ... oh, don't stop!" she begged as she clung to him, but
he did, wiggling away from her and jumping to the floor to laugh
as she gaped at him, the lewd dildo hanging grotesquely from her
tightly grasping cunt in an obscene picture of lewd perversion.
Forrest slapped his naked knees in delight as he stared at
her. "You filthy slut!" he sneered. "Get your fucking things on
and get out of here! Hurry up ... before I call Girarde and tell
him what a pig you are!"
Madeleine stared at him in disbelieving amazement. "W-What
did I do?" she managed, after a moment.
He sniggered brutally. "You filthy cunthole!" he hissed.
"You're just like all the rest ... dirty, filthy whores ..." He
spun about suddenly and ran in his nakedness for his wallet. He
pulled a bill out from it and threw it on the floor. "There's
your pay, whore! Twenty dollars! More than you're worth actually
... but I'll pay it to be rid of you! Now ... get out. Get out!
You hear? Get out!"
Slowly, Madeleine arose, setting her feet upon the floor and
extricating the double-dildo from her vagina and dropping it on
the floor. She could hardly believe the words he'd spat at her.
Whatever his reason for this sudden change, she had no idea ...
except, that he might be insane. Perhaps, she was lucky. She'd
never experienced anything like this before in her new-found
profession, but then, nothing was impossible, was it ... was it?
She didn't speak, only began to dress. He watched her eagerly.
Her only goal now was to get out of there.
"Y-You're beautiful," he said suddenly as she fastened her
bra. "I've never known anyone as good as you. But ... but now,
you hate me don't you?"
"No-No ... I don't hate you."
"Was it good?"
"It could have been."
Forrest licked at his lips. He fondled his cock but she
pretended not to see him. Calmly, she slipped her dress over her
head, zipped, then found her purse and extracted comb and
lipstick.
"You hate me!" he said.
She didn't look at him, only into the mirror as she applied
her lipstick, even though her whole inner-being cringed in fear.
Finally, she said: "I don't hate you, cheri ... you've simply
disappointed me."
He took several steps toward her, then stopped. "I-I'll make
it up to you, Madeleine. Y-You were wonderful ... I loved it!
Will ... will you come back again?"
"Would you ... if you were me?" she questioned.
He went into his wallet and extracted another bill and came
close, offering it to her. She took it. It was a thousand
dollars. A tiny thrill of excitement rippled through her. It'd
been worth it after all, hadn't it ...?
"Will you kiss me good-bye?" he asked.
"Of course."
He followed her to the door and she turned. His hands rested
on her upper arms and he kissed her. Slowly she dropped one hand
with an enticing motion, her fingers searching for his long,
thick, flaccid cock. It found it and went beneath to his balls.
He moved closer to her, his mouth opening in delight as she cupped
his sac ... then, she began to squeeze.
In the beginning, it was a slow, tantalizing process that
stimulated him, but then, it increased in intensity ... harder and
harder and harder, until he squirmed and she felt his fingers
tightening on her arms as his mouth pulled away. But she didn't
let go. Instead, she squeezed harder suddenly, until she could
feel his testicles grinding ... crushing against each other.
And then, he screamed and screamed as he writhed and kicked
at her ... and she laughed in his face ... finally releasing him
to crumble to the floor as she smiled and opened the door.
"Goodbye, cheri, you bastard!" she hissed, and then she closed the
door behind her.
Walking to the elevator, Madeleine raised her chin high but
her mouth fell into a somewhat passionate twinge of denial.
God, she thought, if only it had lasted a little longer ...
Chapter 16
Her apartment surprised Shannon. It was small with a tiny
kitchenette, livingroom-bedroom combination plus bath,
inexpensively furnished but neat, girlish and cozy. He nosed
around. Her ancient vanity supported the usual array of perfumes,
cold creams, powders, nail-polishes and sundry articles. Her
closet contained a sizable display of dresses, skirts, blouses,
shoes, wraps and coats; her lingerie, silks, hose and negligees
were plentiful and fairly expensive. He found a man's suit,
shirts, ties, several changes of underwear, pajamas and robe that
were too large to belong to Tony. He grinned to himself; maybe
she wasn't doing too badly after all.
Behind the bathroom door hung the inevitable douche-bag.
Once more, he smiled. Tools of the trade, maybe, he mused.
Back in the main room he looked about for pictures but found
none. In a small desk drawer he discovered a bank-book and noted
that the last deposit was less than a week previous. The balance
showed a little more than eighteen-hundred dollars ... Well now,
that did shed a brighter light on things. So ... there was his
stake, all in nice round even figures ... and just about enough.
Things were looking better and better with every passing minute.
There was cold coffee in a pot resting on the small stove and
he heated it; he was sitting in the one easy chair enjoying a cup
when he heard the foot-falls approaching along the hallway
outside, the key rattling in the lock and the door popping open
with a certain angry vigor. She filled the opening with a decided
vision of loveliness, her lack of surprise at seeing him there
indicating that she had been advised of his presence by the bribed
building superintendent. She banged the door closed behind her
and stood looking at him questioningly.
"What the devil is this? I have no brothers," she lied,
spitting the words at him in fractured English with strong French
overtones. "And I'm damned sure that I don't know you. What do
you want ... who are you, eh?"
Shannon smiled and arose casually, setting the cup on the
table beside him. She was lovelier than Tony's picture had
portrayed her ... taller, more delicate of feature and darker of
eye. A minute appraisal caused him to speculate that her natural
hair would better enhance her beauty than the bleached gold, but
he liked the way it fell around her shoulders and the light touch
of lip-rouge to her sensitive, wide, full mouth. The rest of her
instigated a little hitch in his breathing that he struggled with,
aware that the short, green minisheath she wore was accentuating
sex in the manner its designer had intended.
"The name is Shannon," he said finally. "I'm a friend of
Tony."
She tilted her head questioningly. "Tony? I don't know any
..." She hesitated. "You mean, Antoine ... my husband, Antoine?"
Shannon nodded. "Antoine to you ... Tony to me." He smiled.
"We've been ... shall we say ... associates for some time. Got to
be pretty close friends. Nice kid, Tony ..."
"He's a coward and a bastard!" she snapped bitterly. "I want
to forget that I ever knew him ... or any of his friends. Now,
you can get out of here, eh?"
She wheeled around, jerked open the door and stepped to one
side, holding it ajar for him. Shannon walked to it, a trace of
the smile still playing around his mouth.
"Okay, baby," he said calmly, easing the doorknob from her
grasp and closing it once more. "So ... old Tony's a coward and a
bastard. Fine ... any way you want it ..." He gazed at her, still
appraising, his hard blue eyes raking her soft luscious body with
obvious salaciousness. "But he sure knows how to choose lovely
women ... and evidently win them."
"So?" she said, without a trace of emotion. "Just what the
hell do you want, M'sieu ... whatever-your-name is? Did Antoine
send you here ...? Or maybe you want a handout ... or could it be
a little female companionship? Whatever, you've come to the wrong
place ..."
Shannon felt his face reddening before her acrid, biting
words. He studied her. Christ, she was a delightful creature,
unbelievably tempting when she was angry; he could only guess what
it would be like if she willingly gave herself to a man, but she
had yet even to smile at him; his cock jerked uncontrollably in
his pants. The essence of her perfume reached him and suddenly
the blood throbbed in his temples; he felt the hot perspiration
oozing onto his forehead and upper lip, coating even the palms of
his hands. He was that close to her that he could reach out and
crush her to him; he had to steel himself ... fight the almost
overwhelming desire. The time wasn't right as yet; there were
still several other things to be attended to, first.
Madeleine read the obvious lust in his eyes, in the twist of
his not unhandsome mouth, and she'd noted the stirring at the
front of his trousers. Her pink tongue-tip peeked out to moisten
her full, lower-lip subconsciously. The aftermath of her lack of
fullfillment with Julian Forrest was still very much in evidence
in her own denied loins, but the fact that this intruder was a
friend of Antoine's and the brazen manner in which he had gained
entrance into her apartment tarnished the luster of any sensual
thoughts that passed through her brain. She heard herself half-
sneer. "Don't let your animal instincts run away with you,
M'sieu'! I come rather high ... two hundred dollars ... even to
my husband's vile friends."
It wasn't what she'd said, but the way she had said it that
cut Shannon. He felt his mouth curving contemptuously and he had
all he could do to contain himself from slapping her hard.
Somehow, he kept control; reached beyond her to shoot the bolt on
the door into its catch; then he walked back to the chair.
"Sit down," he ordered flatly, not looking at her. "I've got
a deal for you."
Madeleine didn't move. Her antagonism at his uninvited,
unwelcomed and unwanted presence was causing her to churn
furiously within ... this along with the unsated little prurient
sensations that Julian Forrest had aroused and sadistically left
to torment her still excited and needing loins was both
infuriating and confusing her ... in fact, she felt as if she
might just burst out crying. She bit at her lower lip and said:
"I'm not interested in any deals you have to offer ..."
"You will be when you hear this one," said Shannon in a
confident monotone, still not looking at her. He found
cigarettes, extracted one and held the package out to her. She
ignored the gesture and he lighted his own. "I'm talking about
money, baby ... much, much money ..." He let smoke from his lungs
while his hard blue eyes focused on her once more. "Enough for
you to get your kid back and take care of the both of you the rest
of your lives ... Interested now?"
Madeleine had not shifted her glance from him nor moved since
he'd closed and bolted the door. Now, in the wake of his words,
she stared at him with widening eyes, adding a third dimension to
her sudden frustrated emotions ... astonishment. She said: "How
do you know about ... about my child?"
Shannon smiled thinly. "Her name is Igat. She is five years
old, and you were seventeen when she was born. Her father was an
American salesman named Keel from Boston with whom you spent one
night ... trading your young virginal charms for his promise to
take you with him to the states ... but he immediately deserted
you. When Igat was born you allowed a certain drunken Doctor
Carey, who, incidentally, delivered you, to place the child in the
home of Rafael and Madame Girarde here in Montreal." He continued
to smile. "Stop me if I'm wrong," he said.
She didn't speak ... couldn't!
"You came to Montreal to be near your child, found employment
waiting table and there met Antoine Poirier, adopted nephew of
Gaston Larreau, the Syndicate's number-one wheel here in Canada.
A real nice chap, too, this Larreau ... I mean, who else would
make his own nephew, adopted or whatever, president of a company
that he was using to extort beaucoup dollars from the public just
so he could have a fall-guy? A real benefactor, that scrum."
Madeleine could not believe it; she could only stand there
and stare at him. He had practically reviewed her life in a
matter of minutes ...
"Want to hear more?" Shannon questioned.
She couldn't speak.
"Okay ... so, you married Antoine and the two of you were
making it until Uncle Gaston threw your new husband to the wolves
in Ottawa when the government turned on the heat. You went into
hiding when Antoine was sent up in order to get away from Uncle
Gaston, whom, unless I miss my guess, was trying to get you to
play house with him. In the end, you wound up with the noble
Ministre Of Gouvernment, Rafael Girarde, who not only gave you a
job in one of his several night spots, but even hangs his clothes
in your closet. I'd add that for this generous little favor,
Girarde had arranged for you to see Igat once in awhile, just as
long as you don't get out of line with the Madame, who'd probably
play hell if she knew her charming husband had a mistress."
Shannon sucked at his cigarette and let out smoke once more. "On
top of all this, I'd guess you were operating a private little
lay-business on the side ... probably with an exclusive clientele
... and I'd further venture that you're just getting back from
doing a stroke of business of sorts. Now ... how close am I to
being accurate, baby ...? Or would you rather not say?"
Madeleine continued to gape at him, but with a bit more
respect and less fury than she had known only moments before.
Finally, she said: "I-I don't understand ... Where ... where did
you find these things out ... I mean, about my baby and the
American, Keel ...?"
"From Tony, of course," Shannon replied. "A thousand nights
we spent talking about it ... all of it ... until I came to feel
that I knew you as well as he, himself, maybe, even better."
"But ... but," she shook her head, confused, "He ... he
didn't know about Igat ... at least, I didn't think he did ..."
"Oh, he knew all right, Baby," Shannon assured her. "Uncle
Gaston made sure he knew, and so did a little girl named Ginny
Novak, Larreau's mistress ... before he had her dumped into the
drink ... quite dead. I'm sure you remember that episode."
Madeleine shuddered; she remembered all right. She shook her
head, as if to rid herself of the horrible memory. Momentarily,
she swayed slightly and the room seemed to waver before her.
Shannon read the symptoms, arose quickly and caught her by the
arms, helping her to a straight-back chair beside the small
kitchen table. He eased her down onto it and watched her erect
full breasts rise and fall as she breathed in short measured
gasps.
"You have any brandy?" he asked her, taking her wrist between
his big hands and chafing them.
"B-Bourbon ... in the cupboard," she said, pointing with a
nod of her head.
He found it and poured substantially into a waterglass,
handing it to her. Madeleine sipped, then lay back in the chair,
stretching out her long shapely legs, the tiny skirt of her dress
hardly covering two-inches of her full and rounded nylon-encased
thighs as she slumped downward into the seat. He swallowed
tightly, his eyes locking on the tiny wisp of sheer white panties
that V'd tightly at her enticing crotch above the juncture where
the soft, warm white flesh of her thighs brushed each other. He
forced himself to turn away, then poured a lengthy measure of the
liquor into a glass and downed it. When he turned around again
she had raised herself up and adjusted her dress.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"O-Oui ... I think so." She let off a long sigh and rubbed
her hand over her forehead. "P-Please, M'sieu' Shannon ... sit
down ..."
But he didn't; instead, he stood there, his eyes moving over
her, stripping her hungrily, a certain lasciviousness that she had
not seen before coming to light in them. Once more, she felt a
tiny shudder creep over her. She watched him wet his dry lips
with his tongue and saw his hands clenching and unclenching
slowly, as the stirring began at the front of his trousers again.
"You ... you spoke of a deal ... and much money," she
managed, realizing suddenly that the magnetism of his obvious
arousal was generating its silent communication like an electric
current, immediately provoking her own unfulfilled desire once
more. "Wh-what did you mean ...?"
He took two steps toward her and stopped, holding out his
hand; he was so close to her that if she dropped her eyes from his
face they would be level with the swollen, throbbing member in his
pants. Her breathing shortened as automatically she gave him her
hand and he said: "That can wait ... this can't ... not another
damned agonizing minute."
Madeleine gasped as he placed her hand against the rock-
hardness of his prick and an uncontrollable tingle of excitement
rippled through her. My God! Had she become that much of a slut
that she couldn't control herself at the mere touch of a man's
erect penis? What kind of bitch am I becoming ...? Her brain
reeled, much as had the room itself only a few moments before ...
"P-Please ... no ..." she stammered, trying to pull her hand
free and get to her feet, but he held her hand fast against the
outline of his jerking cock and drew her up tight to him, crushing
her full pointed breasts into his chest.
"Five years ..." he hissed between his strong, white teeth,
his breath hot against her face, "five long years since I've had a
woman ... and I'm going to fuck you, lovely Madeleine, if it's the
last thing I ever do in this lifetime. You hear?"
He kissed her then, his mouth slamming down brutally against
her own soft wet one, engulfing her lush ruby-like lips entirely
within his own, his tongue knifing out to slice between her lips
and against her teeth savagely, his big hot hands immediately
finding the firm, fleshy moons of her buttocks to clutch and knead
lustfully, while her hand imprisoned between them was filled with
the growing hardness of his long thick jumping shaft as he ground
his pelvis ravenously into the softness of her belly and loins.
Madeleine couldn't hold back the little gasps she emitted
into his mouth, while the lewd promise he had just made her
ricocheted wildly about in her brain, along with the undeniable
masculine assurance of the pledge she held in her hand ... and
suddenly she was stroking and caressing it in her rekindled
passion and anticipation. God, she wanted it ... had to have it
to quench the tormenting flames Julian Forrest had left burning
inside her.
Finally, he raised his head and whispered: "Just one thing,
Angel ... I thing you're going to have to put these on the cuff
... and I do mean these ... because I'm going to fuck you from now
right straight through until sometime tomorrow ... until neither
of us has enough energy to move a muscle ... not one fucking
muscle ... then, we'll talk some business ..."
"Oh ... Oh, God, Cheri!" Madeleine whimpered, pressing her
mouth up tightly against his while simultaneously her hand
squeezed his throbbing cock and her tiny tongue searched his mouth
excitedly. "Oui, Oui! Please ... I want you to ... I want you to
... but, we will do it my way, eh? Let me make you happy. You've
waited so long ... and now it must be wonderful for you ... such
beautiful love-making that you'll never forget it ... ever, ever
..."
"Christ!" Shannon gasped, his prick aching and dancing to the
soft massaging caresses of Poirier's wife's hand until he was
certain he'd cum in his pants if she didn't stop. "What the hell
are we waiting for? Get those godamned clothes off ..."
Now, she smiled at him for the first time and he felt as if
he were going to melt at the splendor of the sight. "No, Cheri,
no ... not like that," she was saying as she half freed herself
and led him over to the chair. She pressed him down into it and
stood before him. "It mustn't just be a tearing off of our
clothes and going at each other. Please ... let me make it
beautiful for you ... as it will be for me, if only you will let
me ...?"
Shannon was breathing like a rutting moose. His prick stuck
out in his pants with the prominence of a center tent-pole. He
stared at the unbelievably enchanting girl before him,
skeptically. Whatever in hell had come over her, he didn't know
or understand, only that it was almost too fantastic to be true
... like some kind of dream, and God knows, he'd had enough of
those the past few years ... but he could wait that much longer
... as long as she wasn't trying to pull something ... like run
outside and start screaming rape ... Christ, he'd kill her if she
tried anything like ...
"You don't understand, do you, Cheri?" she questioned,
smiling warmly, excitedly, and moving away from him to where he
had left the bourbon beside the sink. "And you don't know whether
you trust me or not, eh? Yet, you come here to offer me some kind
of deal ... Did it ever occur to you that I might not trust you
either ... that, we have only known each other but a few short
minutes ... yet, already, I feel that I've known you a hundred
years?" She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mounting
delight as she took ice from the refrigerator and made them
drinks.
She didn't say anymore and he watched her every move
hungrily. Damn, he had never seen such a magnificent body on a
girl ... and he was going to go out of his damned mind if he
didn't have her soon.
To Madeleine, it was as if she had suddenly been catapulted
into some new world of fantasia, yet, for the life of her she
couldn't reason why. Nothing had happened to change her existence
... except the sudden presence of this American ... this handsome,
masculine American who had forced his way into her apartment ...
into her life ... for as sure as he sat there before her, she was
going to fall in love with him ... and there was nothing, she
knew, absolutely nothing she could do to avoid it.
Dear God, let him be gentle, kind and loving to me ... Please
God, I beg You.
Shannon watched the provocative movements of her soft,
sensual body as she brought his drink, then, sat down on his lap,
her short dress hiking up carelessly to reveal the satin-like
white flesh of her thighs above her hose. She slipped her arm
around his neck and lay back against him, cradled in his arms, her
round full buttocks shifting and undulating over his rock-hard
prick.
"Oui, mon cher, I've known you a hundred years," she
whispered to him. She leaned close and kissed him with tender,
wet lips. "Drink your drink. I made it strong to relax you ...
unwind you ... I want you just right for my love-making, eh?"
Shannon swallowed tightly. In a minute he'd wake up. He
gulped half the bourbon-water away, feeling it burn pleasantly in
his throat and belly.
"Better?" she asked.
"Fine ... except I think I'm going to burst."
She tittered lightly, a little chill of excitement racing
through her as she felt the hardness jerking against her bottom.
"And now ..." she said softly, "you want to make love to me, don't
you, Cheri!"
Shannon grunted some unintelligible sound.
She pressed her lips close to his ear and whispered. "I can
feel your wonderful love tool against my behind, Cheri. Mmmmmmm,
it feels so good ..." She ground her buttocks atop of him and
heard him launch into deeper, heavier breathing. "Now ... you sit
right here and watch me, mon cher ... I'm going to undress for
you, eh?"
Like a wood-sprite, she was off his lap and out of his reach,
only a few feet away, but to Shannon it was almost as if he were
gaping through her bedroom window, for she went about the
delightful performance as if she were alone in the apartment. He
watched her tiny, minidress slip to the floor about her feet as
she moved slowly, provocatively, not looking at him, with never
the slightest trace of obscenity to her movements. Her
nonchalance caused his cock to jerk wildly in his pants and he
gulped at his drink once more. Then, she turned her back to him
and bent down to retrieve her dress, the full rounded orbs of her
buttocks causing his erection to lurch once more as he gaped at
the sheer white nylon strip of her panties tightening snugly
between her firm, full thighs, slipping tauntingly into the soft,
rounded crevice of her buttocks to remain, caught there as she
straightened up and moved toward the closet to hang her dress. He
stared after her, his breath knotted in his throat, while she
crossed the room, her magnificent, rounded ass-cheeks quivering
enticingly as she walked.
Shannon raised his glass to his lips and drained it. His
brain whirled in wild, ever-increasing lust at the beautiful,
erotic sight taking place before him. Christ, she was
extraordinarily lovely ... as Maggi had once been lovely ... but
this enticing creature ... Christ! He never remembered seeing
such gorgeous legs, such texture of skin, such grace of movement.
He gaped at her in panties and bra, garterbelt and hose ...
her high-heels ... Maggi had never looked like that ... no other
woman had ever set him off this way ... shit ... five long years
... he was going to flip ...!
She came toward him. "You like me, Cheri?" she said down to
him, suddenly standing between his outstretched legs, her panties
and bra gone and he hadn't even seen her remove them ... her
magnificent breasts, so full, so erect, their dark red nipples
distended at their tips, the breathtaking contours of her body ...
the black, silken fleece at the base of her smooth, white young
belly ... He gulped. Her hose and garter-belt and heels were the
final touches to blow his mind.
"Y-You're ... you're too much, Baby ... absolutely
beautiful," Shannon hissed between his teeth, the glass falling
from his hand to the floor, not breaking, but being ignored by
both of them.
She lowered herself slowly to her knees before him and
between his legs. "Now, Cheri," she whispered softly, looking up
at him, a facet of mysterious light dancing on her moist lips and
in her eyes as it might upon a chest of rare gems, "I must see
you!"
Shannon made no move of his own while she unbuckled his belt,
opened the waist and unzipped his trousers. His breath was a lump
in his throat, his hardly believing mind a turmoil of lust, as her
soft cool hand slid inside the cotton of his shorts to slowly
grasp his prick and maneuver it out into the room with them. He
grunted loudly at her touch and felt it lurch spasmodically in her
hand.
"Oh God, Cheri!" she gasped, her eyes engorging themselves on
the rigid hardness of the long, thick member. "It's beautiful ...
beautiful ...! And I'm going to love it so much ... Oh, I know
it's going to make me so happy ..."
Shannon groaned again as her small, long-fingered hand
almost, but not quite, encircled his shaft, and he saw the tiny
drops of lubricating fluid that oozed from its tip in his mounting
lust. He watched as if hypnotized as her white gentle hand
massaged and stroked it, drawing the heavy foreskin back and
forth, up and down ... and then, all of a sudden, she leaned over
it, her tiny pink tongue flicking out to lick away the moisture at
its tip and he gasped and reached for both of her full, lush
breasts, cupping and squeezing them in his big greedy hands,
feeling their hard pulsating nipples press teasingly into his
palms as slowly she lowered her head and her tender, wet,
lipstick-rimmed lips ovalled, warmly encircling his cock.
Down ... down ... down. Her head seemed to go as she
absorbed his throbbing prick up into the warm, moist enclosure of
her mouth, her tongue lashing and working against its heavy
veined, hard flesh in tantalizing rhythm, and then as she raised
her head and her ovalled, clasping lips sucked their way to its
very tip he could feel the incredible swirling motions of her
tongue, until finally, its point taunted and exploded the tiny
orifice at its end.
Christ! He was going to lose his mind! It was out of this
world ... he had to get his clothes off and get at her before his
balls burst like an exploding firecracker!
"Wait!" he gasped hoarsely, pushing her back and moving to
his feet around her, tearing at his clothes savagely. "I can't
wait any longer! I've got to fuck you between the legs, now!
Understand? Now!"
"Oui, oui, Cheri. I understand," she said almost
breathlessly, getting quickly to her feet and going to the bed to
stretch out enchantingly before him, watching his frantic efforts
to strip himself ... and then, he was on top of her, his hot
hungry mouth all over her face and lips, his tongue sinking deeply
into her mouth and throat as his hands kneaded her heavy, swollen
breasts and explored her body ravenously.
Expertly, she maneuvered him between her spread thighs and
whispered: "Hurry, mon cher let me draw the tension out of you
this first time ... don't think of me ... just yourself ... Fuck
me hard and shoot your cream into me until you're all relaxed ..."
She reached down beneath her thighs which she drew up
quickly, and he felt her cool hand take his prick. Her touch once
more sent a shock into his rigid flesh and his uncircumcised
foreskin ripped back as she gently guided him at her vagina, until
he could feel the moist fleshy warmth and the soft, tickling curls
of her pubic hair grazing against his shaft, waiting for its
entry.
"Oh Cheri. Cheri!" she whispered, losing the words in a
groan which broadened and deepened as he lunged madly into her.
Her moist heat clasped him like a warm, resisting, velvet
glove, and he swore aloud vilely as he began to pump and thrust
vigorously up into her upturned pussy, long, urgent strokes that
filled her receptive cunt to greater and greater depths.
Beneath him, her body quivered and trembled and her pebble-
hard nipples pushed into him with a pointed, erect pressure; her
warm soft belly brushed against his and her thighs clamped and
unclamped, holding and releasing him as the warm clasping inner-
muscles of her cunt sucked and pulled toward his much needed
release.
"Oh ... oh, Christ!" he groaned as he felt the velvety sheath
of her cunt squeezing and sucking along the full length of his
lust-crazed rod of hardened flesh.
"Cheri. Cheri, mon Dieu ... oui, oui ... fuck me! Fuck me!
Fuck me!" Madeleine whispered over and over again as she bucked
and writhed in under him. "Cream into me, darling, cream into
me!"
Her face moved from side to side; marks appeared on her lips
where she bit them, and every so often her mouth came against his
and her teeth bit into him and she sucked his tongue, then forced
her own between his lips, gasping warm breaths into his throat.
"Oh ... Oh ... Oh!" Shannon gasped, his mouth falling open
loosely. "I can't hold it back, Baby! Christ, it's going to
cum!" he blurted as he ceaselessly pounded his inflated cock deep
into her white, rounded little belly with long cruel strokes. He
could feel the hot, white sperm amassing within the reservoir of
his throbbing balls as they beat a tattoo against her marvelously
naked and upturned ass. Wildly, he thrust his tongue far down her
throat and with harsh kneading hands, clutched the wide open
cheeks of her lush white buttocks hard up against his ramming
pelvis, while he slammed his now spewing cock brutally into her
unresisting cunt.
"Oui ... Oui! Cum Cum, mon cher! Fill me! Fill me!"
Madeleine urged him salaciously, at the same time, feeling the
carnal delight taking place inside her as the turgid, pulsating
head of his deeply sunk cock suddenly flared into a hugeness that
threatened to mangle and tear her inner organs. It began to
spurt! She could feel the delicious hot, white liquid shooting
into her with the force of molten fire, sloshing around her
dilated womb like great streams of searing lava.
Oh God, how she wished she could cum with him at that very
moment, but she couldn't ... she couldn't ... not yet ... almost,
but not quite ... Oh God ... Oh God! Her eyes were closed and all
of the time he shot into her, her mouth worked and trembled and
her neck was strained as she thrust back her head in the intensity
of her feeling ... and then, trembling, he relaxed on top of her,
and she put her arms around him, laying beneath him, neither of
them speaking for several minutes. Finally, he rolled partially
off her but she wouldn't let him go entirely, even after his limp
member slid out of her; instead, she cradled him there between her
wide-spread thighs and drew his head down to rest against her
full, soft breasts.
"It was good, Cheri?" she whispered.
"Damn," he sighed. "It was ... it was ... hell, there's no
way to describe it, Baby ... It was terrific."
"I'm glad," she said into his ear. "My stomach feels full of
you and I wanted it to be ... and now you're relaxed ..."
"For a minute," he said, his cheek pressed into the soft,
resilient warmth of her heavy breast. He pursed his lips oddly,
kissing the satin-smooth flesh almost from the side of his mouth,
then taunting it with his tongue as he moved closer to the nipple
and sucked it between his lips in the same side fashion. "But a
hell of a long ways from being satisfied, Angel ... as you'll see
in a minute."
His words caused a new and titillating sensation to spiral
through Madeleine's still impassioned body. God, already she
loved him. It was insane and unfeasible, ridiculous ... even
impossible ... but it was true! She loved him ... and she didn't
even know his name ... not his whole name. She ran her hand over
his short cropped hair while his tongue and lips, nibbling and
taunting her erect nipple, sent chilling fermentations jolting
through her. She managed: "Ch-Cheri ... I don't even know your
name ...?"
"Shannon," he mumbled against her breast.
"That's all?"
"That's enough."
"I ... I think I love you, Shannon," she whispered.
He didn't answer, but he smiled a little to himself. It was
going better than he could ever have possibly dreamed. What more
could he ask? Christ, she was a luscious bitch ... and with
enough loot in the bank to set his little operation in motion
beautifully. His smile broadened: he thought, if old Tony could
only see him now with his cock planted deep between his sweet
young wife's widespread legs ... poor bastard ...
"Did you hear me, Shannon, cheri?" she interrupted his
thoughts. "I think I love you ..."
"I heard you," be answered softly. "What do you want me to
say?"
"Nothing ... I guess ... yet. But ... you will be good to me
... gentle and kind ... you won't hurt me ...?"
Again, it wasn't her words as much as her sincerity of tone
that touched him. He felt like a rotten ass. He raised his head
and looked down into her beautiful face. Her lovely dark eyes
were moist and her parted lips wet, intoxicating, in her emotional
and unbidden desire. He lay his lips tenderly against hers and
felt her tremble beneath him. Then, he said: "We're going to make
a half million dollars, Angel ... you and I ... and we're going to
take back Igat and go a long, long way from here ... together ...
the three of us ... Now, how does that sound to you?"
Slowly, his statement registered and her eyes widened in
amazement. She repeated: "A ... a half-million dollars ...? Mon
Dieu! What are you saying? How, Cheri? Please ... please, don't
make fun of me ..."
Shannon grinned down at her. "It's anything but that, little
girl," he said convincingly. "A half-million ... that's what
Gaston Larreau's going to pay for the return of his one and only
child ... That's right, Baby ... I'm going to kidnap and hold
Annette Larreau for ransom ... and you're going to help me ..."
Madeleine felt her muscles tighten and her breath hitch at
even the mention of the little czar's name, let alone the
incredible words that followed. An icy clamminess crept over her
and she caught his face between her hands to hold it up where she
could see and study it. She said: "You ... You can't mean what
you said ...?"
"Every word."
"M-Mon Dieu! It's insane! He'd kill you ... both of us!
Believe me, Shannon, I know him. It's impossible. Please ...
tell me that you're joking ...?"
Shannon grinned down at her frightened, beautiful face. He
kissed her, then began to run his hand down over her breast and
ribs tauntingly, exploring really for the first time. She
trembled lightly beneath his touch. He said: "We'll talk later,
cheri, when we've less to do. Plenty of time ... right now, I
want some more of you ... only this time, it's your turn little
girl."
"B-But ... oh ... oh ... my Shannon ... my Shannon," she
moaned receptively as she felt his thick member stirring against
her thigh once more and she let her arms slip around his neck
while he eased his tongue deep into her mouth and she began to
suck gently on it, nibbling with tiny sharp nips of her small
white teeth, sending new spasms to run the length of his spine.
At last, she said: "Oh my cheri ... my cheri ... I'll do anything
you say ... just love me ... I need you so badly ... Oh, don't
ever leave me, mon cher ... I'll do anything ... anything you say
...!"
[continues]
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