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This has Bi Sex, D/s, Gang Bang, S&M, Rape, Anal, Murder, Kidnapping,
Blackmail, Zoo Woman/Dog, Toys, Masturbation, Voyuerism.
Yes I am the author of this and all my other stories. This is one of
many handles I have used over the years. If you see any of my stories
with other titles anywhere Please let me know!! Also if you see my
stories on other sites Please let me know!! Especially Pay sites. They
are all doing so without my permission!!!!!!
I reserve all rights to this story. It may not be transmitted to the
public by any means (such as posting to the Internet or to newsgroups)
and may not be changed in any way (such as altering the story or title)
without my expressed written permission!!!
Zombie Night (c) 1985
Send Any Comments To ZombieNight@Hotmail.com
Gaston-The Little Czar
Chapter 1
Gaston Larreau smiled to himself. Guests, noting the
expression, anxiously returned it with one of their own, but truly
the little man was smiling in his own amusement. It pleased him
that celebrities and others of importance vied for invitations to
his weekly affairs. It gave him a certain inner sense of
superiority. He knew what they thought of him ... Canada's czar
of the underworld; yet, to be seen at one of Gaston's Larreau's
Mont Royale affairs was to be mentioned in the society columns of
the Montreal World. He hated them all; they were frauds and
parasites; yet, he appreciated them too, for they gave him an air
of legitimacy.
Gaston Larreau stood five-feet-seven-inches tall in his
exclusively hand designed, one-hundred-and-fifty dollar elevator
shoes; he was abundant of girth, broad at the shoulders, balding,
and meticulous of dress. His head, like his face, was round and
set close to his shoulders, and his small grey, almost colorless,
eyes were spaced too-wide apart, just as his too-small ears clung
tight to his head. The cicatrix left from an aged razor wound ran
the length of his right cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth,
making the flesh there puffed and malformed until he smiled, and
then the line of strong golden upper teeth became predominant.
Presently, he smiled with her by his side and moved amongst
them, always hating yet always appreciating, lashing and cutting
with his bitter tongue, but forever enjoying, listening to the
whispers, staring down the men and lecherously eyeing their women,
while unendingly squeezing her hand. She would be his ultimate
moment this evening. He looked forward to it as might a
connoisseur saving the finest wine until last. She had no idea
what was to come. The expression on her lovely face would be as
exciting to him as a moment of actual seduction, he thought. He
could wait; to savor in anticipation was often greater than the
act itself.
They whispered:
She is the niece?
She is Antoine's new wife three months, I think. But of
course, he's adopted, you know.
I didn't know. I thought he was actually related.
Hell, no. He's not a Larreau; his name is Poirier. That
monster adopted him when he was twelve ... conscience, I suppose
... inasmuch as he killed the boy's parents. A struggle for power
within the syndicate, as I understand it, and the lad's mother
happened to be in the car when the bomb went off.
My God! Are you certain, Chapput? That's a dreadful thing
to say unless you're certain ...
Certain? Who's certain about anything these days, M.
Minstre? I'm simply a reporter.
She is devastating, a female voice commented jealously.
Sexy, I believe is the modern term, my dear, replied her male
companion.
They say she comes from the Gaspe ... that horrid place,
spoke another female. Unbelievable ... such a lovely creature ...
Breathtaking. But why doesn't he have his own daughter act
as hostess, seeing she is home from college? It doesn't seem
right, does it?
Annette? Don't be silly. They don't get on, you know ... an
estrangement of some sort between them ... at least, that's what I
hear. Probably over her mother ... she's in an institution ...
has been for years.
I've heard, but I know little ... Tell me, is M. Larreau as
vile and evil a man as they say? tittered the first female voice.
Ask Chapput. He's the reporter, came a male retort.
Don't ask me anything. I need my job. Just look around you
and consider yourself one of the chosen ... the czar has commanded
your company.
Look! She's lovely. Isn't she lovely, Chapput? What to say
to him.
My God! She's lovely. Isn't she lovely, Chapput?
Tonight, she's lovely; tomorrow, well ... one hesitates to
guess ...
* * *
Madeleine Poirier watched her handsome young executive
husband from across the room. Uncle Gaston's so-called secretary,
Ginny Novak, continued to cling to his arm. It irked the
beautiful, raven-haired girl, but there was little to be done
about it; Uncle Gaston's Friday night cocktail-dinner parties were
a social must on their calendar; they had no choice but to attend,
it seemed, their wealthy and powerful benefactor having chosen her
to act as hostess and remain at his side. It was a distinct
honor, Antoine insisted, especially now that Annette was down from
Quebec where she attended Lavel, Universite. Madeleine tried, as
she had for the past eight weeks, to enjoy the distinction,
attempting to put her own inner burden temporarily from mind as
she assumed a false, worldly attitude, while the squat mighty
overlord clung to her small soft hand inside his own fat, sweaty
one; but invariably she felt uneasy ... hardly equal to the task,
and the manner in which the glamorous twenty-nine year old blonde
from the states hung possessively to her Antoine was annoying her
to no end.
Ginny Novak was never a secretary; in fact, Madeleine
wondered if she could write her own name correctly. She was Uncle
Gaston's mistress and nothing more. There had been a great number
of them over the last dozen years according to Antoine, ever since
Aunt Yolande had been put away in some institution or other ... a
mental case the family said; no one ever went to see her.
Antoine, himself, could hardly remember her; he was fifteen at the
time of her commitment, and he doubted if Annette remembered her
at all. She had been only nine, and he remembered no mother-
daughter relationship. A calloused, if, strikingly attractive
girl, Madeleine had opined from their very first meeting, and
constantly at odds with Uncle Gaston, seemingly taking pleasure in
defying him. Now, she looked about the room, but the nineteen
year old lovely was nowhere to be seen.
"Come, ma chere," Uncle Gaston said, distracting her fixed
dark eyes from Ginny Novak who was laughing gaily into the slender
handsome face of her husband. "It's time we reviewed this
assemblage of social leeches, eh?"
Sometime earlier in the evening, Madeleine had fastened a
perpetual little smile to her delicate-featured, oval face. She
offered it to him in answer as the emperor maneuvered her about
the luxurious room, always holding to her hand, introducing her to
new guests as his Madeleine, "... wife of that adopted nephew of
mine. Magnificent, isn't she? Sometimes, I wonder if the boy
realizes how lucky he is ..."
After awhile, Madeleine no longer blushed at his syrupy
compliments before others. It was natural that these praises
should react upon her ego, never in her poor existence having
known such flattery, but she hardly felt parallel to them and she
was pleased when other topics dominated the conversations,
especially politics and more worldly subjects in which she was not
expected to be versed. It gave her the opportunity to look
intelligent with pretended interest while her mind actually
wandered on many planes.
Sometimes, she could not believe this new, luxurious life she
had become a part of and she would have to pinch herself to know
that it was real. Then the lump of near-ultimate happiness would
rise into her throat, but always followed by the little tears of
pain as thoughts of her tiny Igat would rush to mind. Her shame
... her child ... her dreaded secret ... Dear God, how she longed
to hold the beloved little creature in her arms ... to cuddle her
... to mother her ... her own precious Igat. What would all of
these people think of her if they knew? What would Uncle Gaston
say? But more important than all, what would Antoine believe of
her, then? Oh God, she dare not even think of that; she loved him
so.
Now, automatically, she let her eyes search the room until
they found him again, and the little lump of near-happiness arose
in her throat. He stood among several guests engaged in
conversation, that blonde vixen beside him ... he stood taller
than the others, not handsome really, she supposed ... his face
was too thin and his nose too long, but it had been his gentleness
of eye and his firm, thin-lipped mouth that had first attracted
her ... that she had fallen in love with. She watched him smile;
his handsome white teeth sent a little thrill through her.
Antoine Poirier, President of Galaxy Mining, Ltd., how impressive
it sounded. Of course, Galaxy was one of Uncle Gaston's
enterprises and it was not as if Antoine had worked his way up the
ladder the hard way; all the same such an executive responsibility
required great intelligence and ability, and Uncle Gaston was not
to let him remain in such a capacity if he didn't merit it. She
was so proud of him ... loved him so ... God, if there was only
some way she could unburden her soul to him and have him
understand, perhaps, even bring her Igat into their family ...
Heavenly Father, how wonderful that would be ... if only there was
some way ... But she was groping for straws and she knew it.
There was just no way ... no way in the world ... at least, not at
this time with only three months of marriage behind them, and that
somewhat strained with their individual efforts of trying to
discover each other.
She thought about that now as she wore her pleasant little
smile and feigned being a good listener while Uncle Gaston argued
with Ernest Mallory, the Minister of Citizenship and Immigration
over existing, 'stupid' immigration laws. She thought about their
love-making, and her own inability to respond fully because of her
constant pressure of mind over Igat. In effect, the unfulfilled
results, time and again, had left her as flustered as Antoine, for
invariably, once he had emptied his loins into her, he would blame
himself over her lack of climactic achievement, often-times with
tears and swearing that next time it would be different ... but as
yet, it was not. Sometimes, she felt that he, too, was carrying
some heavy inner burden ... a business pressure probably, but she
didn't pry; when it was time, if he wanted her to know, he would
tell her. Nevertheless, their sexual fiascos had added to her
growing feeling of frustration, until she had reached this point
of even being jealous over the likes of Ginny Novak. Lord, she
had to get hold of herself. She was a woman of position now ...
"What is your opinion, Cheri?" Uncle Gaston interrupted her
train of thought, speaking in English for the benefit of the
Minister from Ottawa.
Madeleine caught herself; she never liked to appear the fool.
"I think my opinions are better left unsaid, Oncle," she replied
smiling somewhat shyly, entirely unaware of the nature of their
conversation.
"What's more, Madame Poirier is a diplomat, M'sieu'," Mallory
returned, smiling broadly. "As if being beautiful is not enough."
"You flatter me, M'sieu' Mallory," said Madeleine into his
pale, hawkish face. He was a tall man, lean and impressive of
stature, with fine eyes and an unruly shock of white hair. "I
fear if you gentlemen don't stop you'll turn my head."
"In my direction, I hope," the Minister teased.
Madeleine made an habitual gesture of tossing her head to
right her shoulder-length, raven-black hair even as she continued
to smile. The little movement caused her firm rounded breasts to
quiver in the thin, invisible bra behind the low-cut, white mini-
gown she wore and Uncle Gaston imagined that he heard male eyes
click as they locked upon the voluptuous spectacle. He squeezed
her hand and let his tongue wet his dry lips. It was time, he
thought. Why the hell should he wait any longer? He'd been
waiting all day. He stole a glance at Antoine and saw that Ginny
was keeping him occupied ... per instructions.
"You will pardon us, M'sieu' Mallory," Gaston Larreau excused
them, "but we must argue with the other guests too."
"Of course," said Mallory. "Perhaps we can get back into the
subject later, M'sieu' Larreau. There are some other
ramifications I believe you're overlooking ..."
"Later," the little czar replied bluntly. "Come, ma chere."
He held to her hand and led her across the room toward the archway
into the central hall, then addressed her in French: "There's
something I want to discuss with you, my pet."
"Oh ...?" said Madeleine, surprised. "What is it, Uncle?"
He retained her hand within his own and escorted her to his
large, paneled study. There, he let free of her, closed the
double doors, flicking the locking catch on the knob, then walked
toward his private bar to make them a drink. As yet, he had not
answered her and Madeleine watched his broad expensively covered
back move away from her; she glanced behind her at the closed,
locked door, then back at the squat, powerful man who now mixed
casually behind the bar. Occasionally, his colorless little eyes
raised from what he was doing and dwelled upon her face, then,
openly raked the length of her curvaceous body with an almost
lecherous gleam lighting them. He smiled, his gold teeth flashing
in the indirect lumination of the room. She felt a little catch
in her breathing and a certain clamminess moved along her spine as
he continued to smile ... almost leer while his eyes all but
stripped her naked.
Whatever it was all about, Madeleine had no idea. She had
never seen him like this, and he coldly frightened her.
"Are you happy with Antoine, dear?" he questioned in their
native tongue, his vicious small eyes never ceasing their lewd
undressing of her person.
"O-Of course ... why do you ask, Uncle?"
"I'm concerned. After all, besides Annette, I have no one
else ... with the exception of you, now ... and I regard you of
the greatest importance, Madeleine." His near-twisted smile seemed
affixed to his round face as he came from behind the bar carrying
two drinks. His eyes held her own exotic dark ones levelly,
almost hypnotically, as he moved toward her, one hand bearing the
glass, extended. "I wouldn't want you unhappy, my pet."
Automatically, Madeleine's graceful hand accepted the glass,
but her eyes remained adjoined to his. Additional ripples of
chill trickled up her back. She knew of his reputation, his
ruthless brutality, had even guessed that such tales might be ...
could be true, but she had never dreamed that she, herself, would
ever witness any indication enlightening that part of his
character. Dear God, she thought she was previewing it now ...
but why? Had she done something! Where was Antoine ...?
From the moment he handed her the glass he never stopped
moving closer to her. They were nearly of equal height. She felt
his great middle pressing ever stronger against her, his round,
scarred face closing in on her own. The meaning of the gesture
was beyond her and Madeleine stood her ground, iced fear
stiffening her being. But, then, within that scope of inches, she
saw the blurred visage of his puckering lips swooping in upon her
own, and she realized the affront.
"Uncle Gaston! My God! What're you trying to do ...?"
Her hands, one still holding a glass, came up between them,
rigid at arm's-bent length against his chest. She backed several
feet toward the locked door behind her and gaped at him.
"I was going to kiss you," he hissed, the wild satyrism she
had read in his eyes even more pronounced now. "I'm sure you're
familiar with the act."
"Uncle Gaston ...! I-I just don't ... I don't understand
...! Please ... please, let's go join the others ..."
"Shut up, slut! Shut your fucking mouth!" he spat at her.
Madeleine stared in utter disbelieving, mounting horror at
the squat despot of crime before her ... this man who not only
controlled the vile and vicious underworld, but whose company the
wealthy and famous competed for, while the lewd word he had
blurted at her ricocheted like a giant, depraved, evil omen in her
brain.
"Un-Uncle Gaston ... Wh-What is it ...?"
"Bitch! You stand there, cunt-slut that you are and tell me
you don't understand?" Suddenly, he threw back his vicious head
and laughed, loud and not caring, his teeth glistening in the
light. He stared at her, his evil smile never lessening, then, he
moved closer to her once more. "You've got a kid! You've hid it
out in the home of one Rafael Girarde here in Montreal. A bastard
brat you'd like to forget ... and you dare to marry my Antoine and
pretend? Cunt-slut! That's what you are! Come into my house ...
Me, Gaston Larreau, and put on airs! You pig! What do you think
Antoine would say if he knew? Eh? And you wonder how I know,
don't you, bitch? Well I'll tell you. Your Doctor Carey does
little things for me ... takes a shady bullet out now and then ...
whatever I have for him. But suddenly, he read the papers ...
thought he might have a hot banana, one he could use to raise hush
money, so he dared come to me and spit out the truth."
Madeleine had backed to the door. The czar inched closer
against her. He said: "You know what that information cost me?"
He laughed. "Twenty dollars ... enough for a gallon of booze.
And you know the value of that same information my pet?" Once
more, he laughed ... slowly at first, then, in a rising crescendo.
"You! You, my dear, are the ultimate value of that twenty dollars
so well-spent. You, with your young, voluptuous charms will crawl
to me unless you want me to destroy your world. You will give
yourself entirely to me to do with as I see fit ... otherwise,
I'll completely destroy you not only with Antoine, but wherever
you go. Now ... say something, darling ... say something
intelligent, you luscious creature."
Madeleine stood frozen in mental horror. Her entire body
seemed a part of the door as she pressed backward against it and
stared at the metamorphosis of human into monster before her. She
watched him raise his drink to his lips and sip, and she watched
mesmerized in abject terror and instantaneous hatred, the
salacious leer ever contorting his evil face as inch by inch he
moved in closer to her.
"Oh God! Please ... Uncle Gaston ... My God! You can't tell
Antoine," she pleaded, for nothing else mattered. "Let me! I'll
tell him! I swear it ...!"
"Stupid cunt," Larreau spat and Madeleine cringed at the vile
insult. "What good do you think that'll do, now? The damage is
done. Do you think he would want someone else's bastard child?"
"But you don't understand! She's just a little baby. Stop
calling her those names! Damn you ...!"
Larreau widened his grin. "So ... you do have some spunk,
after all. I ... I was beginning to wonder."
"She's not to blame! She's an innocent baby ...!"
"Shut up! You hear? Shut up, cunt!"
She did, gaping at him. His smile had disintegrated; his
eyes were emblazened with rage. He raised his glass and drained
it, then threw it on the davenport beside him, the ice dribbling
out to wet the expensive cushions, his vile epithets cutting her
to the quick. Heavenly Father, she had never been so abused in
her life. He came next to her and tore the glass from her grasp,
then wound his pudgy, brutal hand in her hair and forced her mouth
to his.
He kissed her! His vicious tongue stabbed at her lips and
she fought it, clenching her teeth until his hand twisted the long
length of her hair, until tears streamed from her eyes and her
mouth gaped from the pain. His tongue, hot and wet, plunged to
her throat and his short arm encircled her waist powerfully,
crushing her to him. He ground his belly overwhelmingly against
hers, his groin tightly against her own soft, tender pelvis, until
she could feel the hardness of his swollen member undulating in a
near-pulverizing motion at the juncture of her full, warm thighs.
Mon Dieu! Antoine! Please ... come quick! I need you! I
need you!
Finally, he eased back from her, smiling as if he had just
brought her great pleasure.
"There now," he said, "Not so bad is it?" He lifted the glass
he had taken from her and drank from it. "Why satisfy yourself
with the parasite when you can have the king, my pet?"
"I-I-I love Antoine."
He drank again. "Love? Humph!" he grunted. "A word ... not
a very meaningful one either. Only an excuse for attachment."
Again, he drank, "Never mind, it isn't important what you think,
or want. It's what I want that counts ... and I want you, my
dear." He backed away and moved in a small circle before her.
"You'll do what I say from here on ... unless you prefer to be
completely destroyed ... along with your illegitimate daughter."
"What are you saying? You ... you wouldn't do anything to
hurt Igat ...?"
"Why not? Bastard kids are born every day. What's one more?
If she or he holds me from getting what I want ... then, it's time
to destroy them."
"My God! My dear God! You're horrid! An unadulterated
monster ...!"
Larreau set down his glass and moved against her once more.
His left hand encircled her small waist while his right darted to
her left breast, encompassing its full, rotund protuberance,
squeezing and kneading, working at its nipple through the several
layers of garments until it stood hard and erect, and in her
helplessness she submitted to him.
"No ... I'm not what you think," he said, letting his hands
trail down her slightly delineated ribs to her hips, then moving
behind her while she stood spellbound, and slipping downward to
envelop her soft, warm, full buttocks in cupping fashion. He
pulled her to him and once more she felt the hard unbelievable
length of him grinding against her pelvis. "I'm human enough.
Trouble is ... you don't know what made me the way I am. It isn't
important, anyway. What's important is that I want you ... and I
know I'm ugly. So ... I have to take you ... to force you. I-I-
I'll make a deal with you. You be 'nice' to me and I'll get your
kid back for you ... make Antoine accept it. I promise, I will.
Girarde is a nothing ... a Ministre of Gouvernment, but a nothing.
I'll get the child, I swear it ... if you're nice to me ..."
"And ... and if I'm not?"
His face changed. Before, when he'd spoken of returning
Igat, he was almost the man she had come to know. But now ...
"I'll completely destroy you and the kid! I swear it! I
take an oath on it!" Once more he grabbed her, clutching her to
him. "Christ! I want you, pet! I'll give you anything ... just
be nice to me. Don't you understand? I've got to have you ...
And then, she felt his small pudgy hand moving down her
outside thigh, brushing up beneath the skirt of her gown along the
nylon-encased column of her smooth, tensed, long leg. Dear God!
What was he going to do? Should she scream ... create a scene?
She was entrapped! His hand felt hot ... repulsively hot against
the frightened, twitching flesh of her thigh, while the other
brazenly cupped at her buttocks, holding her firm, unable to move
away from his insulting hand. Even so, tiny, unwanted prurient
twinges seemed to erupt within her at the attentions of a strange
touch, while simultaneously, she fought the vile idea of his lewd
suggestion.
"Please ... please, Uncle Gaston, don't! Please don't ...!"
"Christ! I've got to. You understand? I've got to have you
...!"
"No ... No! Please ... I understand ... yes, I understand
... really, I do!" she pleaded and babbled, frantically struggling
both physically and mentally, but she was no match for his
strength and her brain refused to function in her fear and shame.
"L-Let's think about it ... tonight, we'll think about it ... Oh
God ...!"
His hand reached and played at the tight, concealed portion
between her legs where only the narrowest, sheerest strip of nylon
protected her secret, sensitive genitals. She felt the knuckle of
his hand press the material of her panties between the soft,
fleshy lips of her vulva as it stroked again and again into the
warm, moistness of her womanhood. She whimpered helplessly.
Mother of God, no woman alive could endure such galvanic touches
at her most delicate parts without knowing sensation, she swore
it. Yet, she was near-overwhelmed with the abasement he was
heaping upon her; it could not go on like this! He had to listen
to reason!
"In heaven's name, Uncle Gaston, you've got to stop! It's
not right! Please ... I-I'll never be able look at you again,
think of Antoine, if not me ..."
"I'm thinking of me, damn you!" he hissed at her. "And I'm
thinking if you want that kid of yours, you better be nice to me,
understand? Nice! Now ... do you want her or not?"
Madeleine wagged her head in confusion. She felt the hot
tears welling onto her cheeks as he continued to stroke tauntingly
at the now trembling, nylon-covered aperture between her legs.
"Well ...?" he rasped.
"Yes ... yes ... you know I do! What would you expect? My
God, I'm her mother! I want my baby ..."
"And you'll do anything to get her back?"
"... Yes ... anything ... I'll do anything! My God ... oh,
my little Igat ..."
Suddenly, his colorless eyes glowed as if they had been
dipped in Satan's fire and he hauled her closer to him, his thick
middle-finger slipping inside her elastic panty-leg to ease slowly
between the fleshy-fringed lips of her now moistened pussy, moving
downward through the velvety, pink slit toward the small quivering
vaginal mouth ... then, worming up into her ... ever upward inside
her warm, snug channel. She gaped at him during the inserting
process ... gaped and gasped in revulsive, helpless humiliation as
she felt his thick finger sliding possessively further up into her
while she stood as if frozen in horrified disbelief ... and then
his thumb began to massage the tiny, soon-erected bud of her
clitoris maddeningly. She jerked then, bodily against him,
causing her buttocks to spasm and circulate uncontrollably in his
other hand, and he said: "I'm going to give you an address and you
come there tomorrow. It's downtown ... my special apartment. You
fail me, pet ... and both of you will pay ... you and the kid ...
understand?"
Madeleine tried to answer, but her words bunched in her
throat from the unwanted shocking spasms he was causing at her
loins, and she could only nod her head jerkingly. Finally, she
managed: "I-I under ... stand."
Larreau laughed. "Good," he said. "But in the meantime ...
I want to play with this ... this delightful little cunt of yours,
pet."
Madeleine moaned pathetically, at the same time cringing as
she sensed his thick finger move further up into her, while his
use of the lewd, foul word caused strange, if, undesirable
sensations to soar through her quivering body.
"Oh ... Oh, please ... can't we wait?" she heard herself
whine, and even as she spoke she realized in self-abomination that
she was moving sensuously upon his penetrating finger, making
involuntary, pelvic motions as his finger reached and taunted the
snail-like mouth of her womb.
"Oh God!" she blurted for the hundredth time.
"It feels good, doesn't it, pet?" Larreau tormented. "You
wish to God it didn't, but you can't help yourself, eh? And how
would you like to have a nice thick cock right up inside that
little cunt at this moment ... filling that round little belly ...
shooting its hot load into you, eh? You'd like that ... but you
wouldn't admit it, would you ... you hot little bitch ... All
right ... I'll wait until tomorrow ... I want to be sure there'll
be no interruptions when I fuck you, pet ... no interruptions
whatever ... understand?"
"Y-Y-Yes ... anything you say ..."
"And now, you belong to me ... is that clear?"
Madeleine managed to nod affirmatively. Then, she said: "And
... and you promise about Igat?"
"Sure ... sure, I promise."
"S-She's my baby ... I'll do anything to get her back ... You
realize that, don't you?"
"Of course," he said, his thick finger worming around in and
out of her damp, dilated passage now.
"And ... and you'll help me ... even with making Antoine
understand?" she stammered.
"I told you I would, didn't I?"
"Oh ... yes ... Oh God ..." she gasped, as vile, tingling
sensations began to spread throughout her whole body.
"Damn!" he hissed, pushing his mouth against hers, his open
lips engulfing her soft, wet ones, and then slowly he withdrew his
finger from her vagina and she whimpered in the confused,
unfulfilled passion he had aroused in her unwanting body. Dear
God in heaven, she had to get out of here and think! Merciful
Mother, what was she going to do now?
And a wicked spasm trembled Gaston Larreau's coarse body.
Chapter 2
Antoine Poirier was delighted with the way Uncle Gaston had
taken to his Madeleine from the very beginning, immediately
accepting her and making her feel as one of the family. He was
worried for fear that it would not go that way at all. Madeleine
not being of the select social class from which his benefactor had
insisted he choose a wife when that time came; in fact, hers could
hardly be called even the lower middle class, her father being
nothing more than a fisherman. It hadn't been an act of defiance
on his part, for Lord knows, he felt greatly indebted to this man
who had taken him in following the brutal death of his parents,
treating him as he might his own son, had there been one, even to
giving him the finest of education at McGill University; no, it
had simply been love ... of the head-over-heels variety, and upon
first sight at that; then, Uncle Gaston had amazed him by
understanding.
Antoine had found her in a small restaurant where she waited
on table and where he took lunch only occasionally, until that
day. The rest was inevitable, for as she had told him some two
weeks later when he asked her to become his wife, she had loved
him from the first moment she saw him. Her lack of formal
education, or the fact that she came from poor peasant stock,
nothing could have been of less importance to him; her exotic
beauty stunned him; she had only to smile that first time and he
was completely lost. Even Annette ... snippy, audacious,
envenomed Annette ... even she had taken to her immediately, and
from the first moment Uncle Gaston had laid eyes on her he had
done little more than smile his pleasure.
Of course, the proof of Uncle Gaston's acceptance had come
when he'd asked Madeleine to act as family hostess at these Friday
night affairs, and he, Antoine, could barely contain his own
elation ... even now, as he watched her graceful movements beside
his Uncle, the powerful little man holding affectionately to her
hand, and the manner in which she conducted herself in the
presence of Montreal's most elite ... as if she had been born to
it ... filled him with pride and love. God, if only he didn't
have this other worry, he thought.
Uncle Gaston had assured him a dozen times that there was
nothing to get upset about, but just the idea of Ottawa sending
officials over to look at the company books and records had upset
him considerably. He couldn't help it; after all, Galaxy Mining,
Ltd. was his responsibility, and because Uncle Gaston had
entrusted him with its helm he felt more accountable than ever.
He had worried himself to the point where he could hardly sleep
nights, and of course, the whole thing was having an effect on his
and Madeleine's personal lives. Their love-making had become
little more than a series of abortive attempts at sex on his part,
filling his Madeleine with unsated frustrations, he felt certain,
and God Almighty, he didn't know what to do about it.
She was such a vibrant, voluptuous creature; he had only to
look at her even in her clothes to feel immediate stimulation and
a stirring at his loins, but to enjoy the enchanting vision of her
magnificent young body in the rich splendor of nakedness was
enough to set him off like a rutting bull. It seemed at those
times he had no control whatever over himself, that nothing
mattered only plunging his aching penis into her tantalizing flesh
and emptying his life-giving sperm into her. He just couldn't
seem to contain his lust, even though he invariably hated himself
after and would sincerely vow that it would be different next time
... yet, wonderful, loving person that she was, she would smile
understandingly and forgive him. Nevertheless, he felt certain
that his constant failures were straining their yet-to-be-seasoned
relationship and he laid the whole damned mess to this Ottawa
investigation business ... whatever that was all about.
Now, as he watched them moving among the guests, Madeleine
looked his way and smiled. A warmth crept over him and he
responded with a slight pursing of his lips that she would
understand ... a symbolic kiss. It was at that moment that Ginny
Novak joined him, taking his arm fondly and brushing one soft,
full breast against it.
"Darling, I've been looking for you," she said for greeting,
smiling radiantly up into his face.
"Really? I've been right here," he said, always aroused by
the suggestive tiny lights that seemed to be forever dancing in
her sea-green eyes. As always, she'd had a bit too much to drink
and her attractive face reflected it in the slackness about her
wide, full mouth and the slight glaze to her eyes. Her usually
upswept, perfectly coiffured blonde-hair showed tattle-tale wild
strands also, and when she spoke there was just the hint of
thickness to her tongue.
"I've been in the playroom sampling the bourbon," she said,
giving his arm a little squeeze and once pressing her full, ripe
breast against him. "I was hoping you might wander back and
sample some with me. We might even've gotten into a game of
billiards ... or something."
Antoine smiled. Her words, her gestures, her every move was
suggestive of sex, and had been since the first day she had walked
into this house on the arm of Uncle Gaston better than a year ago,
replacing his former mistress. Her capacity had been obvious, her
duties nil ... except to cater to the master's personal and
private needs ... whatever they might be. Antoine only knew that
he didn't blame his Uncle; after all, he was human and Aunt
Yolande had been ill for at least a dozen years; a man had to have
a woman, and Ginny Novak was very much that.
He, himself, had never touched her sexually ... had hardly
ever laid a hand upon her, but in all honesty he had wanted to
many times, and from her actions ... just the way she would hang
onto him, or brush her breasts against him teasingly as she was
doing right at that moment, he felt certain that she would be
receptive. But once again, his loyalty to the man who had
befriended and raised him would never permit him to commit such an
act. Ginny Novak was his uncle's toy, and although Antoine too-
often could barely tolerate the little man's cruel and abusive
treatment of her in public, he bit his lip and kept his place.
After all, if she didn't like it, she could always go back to the
States where she came from.
Now, as he watched her, she looked about the room until her
eyes found what they sought.
"Ah, so there the little czar is," she said with obvious
distaste. "And with your Madeleine, of course."
"Of course ...? Why do you say it like that?" Antoine
questioned, her derisive tone provoking him.
"Did I say it wrong? I'm sorry, Darling. Probably just the
natural, unrefined farmer coming out in me. Nothing more crude
than a half-drunk, corn-fed girl, they say."
Antoine grinned and she moved around until her back was to
Uncle Gaston and Madeleine, then he saw the almost immediate,
serious expression that sobered her attractive face. It surprised
and puzzled him simultaneously.
"What is it?" he heard himself question. "Is something
wrong, Ginny?"
"We must go someplace where we can talk," she replied in a
voice above a whisper. "It's terribly important to you, Antoine
..."
"What is it?"
"We can't discuss it here," she insisted, "too dangerous."
"But ... I don't understand ..."
"Wait ..." she said, turning slowly, her loose little smile
returning once more as she pretended to look dazedly across the
room. Then, he felt her hand tightening on his arm, and she said:
"Look, they're leaving the room ... now we can slip out ..."
Antoine watched his Uncle leading Madeleine toward the
central hall and felt a moment of confusion. "Where the devil are
they going?"
"Probably to the front sitting room," Ginny lied. "There're
some guests in there, too. Please, now come with me."
She gave him little chance to refuse, ushering him by the arm
through the doorway that led to the servants' corridor and back
toward the playroom.
"Look, Ginny ... I don't understand," Antoine said,
resisting, but not enough to slow her anxious pace. "What's so
damned important that we couldn't talk about it back there?"
"Plenty, Darling," she half-whispered as they entered the
near-darkened playroom and she closed the door quietly behind
them. "In fact, I'm not going to tell it all to you here, either.
It's too dangerous ... could even mean my neck ..."
"Your neck? Good God, what're you trying to say, girl?" he
snapped, his accent broadening his English in irritation.
Ginny Novak eased in close to him, both hands suddenly
clutching at the muscles of his arms. She looked up into his
face, her own expression one of taut seriousness. "Listen to me,"
she almost hissed, her lovely eyes probing the depths of his own
irked and questioning ones, "that filthy uncle of yours is working
at hanging you. And unless you do something about it awfully
damned quick, it's going to be too late."
"Wh-What? Look ... what the hell are you talking about,
anyway?" Antoine rapped, angrily trying to shed her hands from his
arms. "Is that what you brought me back here for? To malign
Uncle Gaston? Christ, what kind of girl are you? You sleep with
him, eat his food, drink his liquor ... and too damned much of
that by the way you're talking ..."
"Stop it!" she hissed vehemently. "Stop and listen to me you
stupid, naive idiot! Galaxy Mining, Ltd. is in trouble with the
government. I overheard a conversation between Gaston and his
attorney, Robert Jovell, this afternoon on the telephone. I heard
Gaston say something to the effect that he'd been expecting it ...
it had to come sooner or later, but that he wasn't worried, they
couldn't touch him ... the whole operation was in your name! Now
... do you still think I'm trying to malign that noble bastard?"
Antoine was stunned. He stared down at her, hardly seeing
her. Of course, it was all ridiculous. Either she had
misinterpreted whatever it was she'd heard, or she was making the
whole thing up for reasons of her own. Certainly, Uncle Gaston
would never do anything that would reflect on him, Antoine, let
alone making him some sort of scapegoat that might wind him up in
prison. The whole idea was preposterous!
"I-I don't know what you're trying to do," he spat at her,
"but whatever it is you're wasting your time. My advice is that
you lay off the liquor and get yourself out of here as soon as you
can. It looks to me like you've overstayed your welcome."
With that, he tried to get around her, but she quickly backed
to the door and stood against it, momentarily preventing his
leaving. Her usual dancing, suggestive eyes narrowed in her own
anger, and although the scintillating lights continued to enliven
them, they were now tiny explosions of rage.
"You are a stupid ass, Antoine Poirier! I don't know why in
hell I should be putting my head on the chopping block for you ...
but here I am! Now you listen to me, damn you; what I've told you
is truth! You can do whatever you want about it, I don't care.
This much I can tell you, that little gargoyle you call 'uncle' is
a vile monster, and he doesn't care anymore about you than he does
one of his lovely prostitutes who has to kick in a third of her
earnings so that he can live in the style he's become accustomed
to. And as far as overstaying my welcome, M'sieu', I'd be out of
here in two minutes if I dared ... but you know what would happen
to me if I tried? I'd be dead! That's right, dead!" Suddenly, a
mean little smile stretched her pretty mouth. "I hope to God you
don't think I'm here because I want to be? You'd have to be out
of your mind to believe that. I'm here because that foul bastard
won me in a poker game from a stateside hood just like him ... a
gambler named Lou "The Ace" Fennell ... and you don't run away
from their kind of scum ... you merely deteriorate into a common
whore to provide their bread and butter when they're finished with
you ... or you kill yourself ... You pays your money, and you
takes your choice."
Antoine stared at her as if his eyes were glued upon her
paled, anger-lined face. Every word she spoke had registered, and
abruptly, he realized her sincerity. Whether there was any
accuracy in what she had said pertaining to Galaxy Mining and
Uncle Gaston abandoning him, was still questionable in his mind,
but her own position, he suddenly found himself not doubting for a
moment. Almost instantly, his heart went out to her, and when he
saw the little tears trickling down her cheeks he couldn't help
himself. He opened his arms and she burst inside them with a sob.
"There, there," he whispered into her ear as she cried
against his chest, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils as
she clung to him and he held her, smoothing his hand down her
back, caressing the silken material of her gown to feel the soft
flesh and indentation of her barely perceptible spine beneath.
Her full, pointed breasts dug into his chest, while the little
round bowl of her belly rested snugly beneath his own, and as he
held her, she inched tighter against him until her warm, full
thighs clung tightly to his hard, lean ones, and her pelvis and
belly ground against, and shared the length of his stiffening
cock.
She raised her face to him then, her wet full mouth falling
open ... and he kissed her. Her arms encircled his neck and her
mouth clung to his hungrily. Almost subconsciously, his tongue
slid between her opened lips and teeth and she softly began to
suck on it, drawing it deeper and deeper into the warm moist
cavern toward her throat as her soft, vibrant loins began to
rotate against his already throbbing prick in tiny little
stimulating circles. He gasped into her mouth, his long, sinewy
hands dropping to cup at her soft, yet firm, hollowing buttocks so
full and round in his grasp, and she pressed even tighter against
him.
Eventually, they separated for a breath, and he said: "I-I
didn't know, Cheri .... I-I had no idea why you stayed with him
... the way he treated you ... I used to wonder why you put up
with it ... God ... I've wanted you so bad a thousand times ..."
She whimpered at his words and he felt the vibrations of
sound against him more than he heard it. Her mouth searched for
his and he kissed her again, this time, tasting the deliciousness
of her tiny tongue as it darted forward between his lips.
"Oh Darling," she hissed, "we must make love. I've wanted
you for so long, too. But we have to be careful. He'd kill us if
he found out."
"He won't find out ... nobody but you and I will know,"
Antoine assured her, his hands caressing and stroking her back and
buttocks covetously now, the soft, warm resilience of her flesh
causing his hardening penis to throb vigorously between them.
"I can feel you so hot and hard and excited against me," she
whispered. "God, how I'd love to take it out right here ... right
now, and suck it until it pumped its love sperm down my throat."
"Christ! Don't talk that way or I'll come right in my
pants," he smiled, but said in a harsh, whispering voice. "I want
those things too, but we have to find a place. We can't do
anything here ..."
"I know," she interrupted excitedly. "The summer house at
Ste. Agathe des Monts. We can go there ... tomorrow, Darling."
He thought about it briefly. It seemed safe enough. Uncle
Gaston wouldn't be opening it for a mouth ... not until July. The
idea intrigued him. Christ, he had to have her now, after this;
there was no turning away from it any longer. He had to fuck her!
"All right. Tomorrow around two. I'll meet you there,
Cheri. Are you sure you can get away without suspicion?"
"Yes, I'm certain of it ... but it wouldn't make any
difference. I'd come to make love to you even if I had to bring
an audience."
"Damn!" he gasped, and kissed her once more.
Then, she eased back away from him and he read the concerned
expression on her face. "Please, Darling," she whispered. "You
must listen to what I've told you. Galaxy Mines is in great
danger ... and that puts you in great danger. I don't know to
what extent but maybe I'll hear more tonight and be able to tell
you tomorrow."
"I'm not worried about that," he lied. "I'm more concerned
about how I'm going to get you away from all this."
"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. What's
important is that you take care of Madeleine and yourself. I know
this evil man better than you, Darling. I know him at his vilest,
bedroom self ... and that's where you really come to know a man's
mettle."
"But I can't believe he would do anything to hurt me. I-It's
just impossible to believe. I mean, after all, I'm like his own
son ..."
"Oh Darling, please ... You must try to understand the type
of man he is," she almost begged him. "I realize why you've
closed your eyes to these things ... because he has been like a
father to you. But in God's name, don't blind yourself entirely.
He's the warlord over crime in Canada ... and you must know about
his connections with the syndicate ..."
"Yes, yes, I know all of that," Antoine replied, not looking
at her now as he fished out a cigarette and lighted it. Then,
suddenly looking at her, he said: "But I'm not just a ... a
relative to him ... I'm like his very own flesh and blood. He's
raised me, Cheri, clothed, fed and educated me. No, Christ, I
can't believe it! He just couldn't do anything to hurt me ..."
"Unless ..." she whispered.
"Unless? Unless what?"
"Unless ... it becomes a matter of your neck ... or his ..."
She reached him at that point. Antoine stood very still and
dragged at his cigarette. In his mind, he was endeavoring to
evaluate Galaxy's situation. It occurred to him that he had never
actually seen the mines in Alberta or the Yukon; Uncle Gaston had
not thought that necessary. His task was to see that the ever-
increasing stockholders received favorable dividends and that the
Board of Directors met once a month, with quarterly reports being
sent out on the day to all investors. Should there ever be a
shortage of cash to meet dividend payments, he was to immediately
report it to his Uncle so that whatever the deficit might be it
could be made up. Investors don't like to be informed of non-
dividend quarters, Antoine, he'd said to him once. So, even if it
hurts, and we have to take it from other enterprises, we'll keep
them happy, eh?
He questioned the illegality of it then, but the powerful
little man had merely laughed.
Don't you worry about illegality, young man. That's my
department. You just take care of board meetings and that cute
little wife of yours, eh? She looks to me as if she might require
lots of loving.
And then, he'd laughed, vulgarly, a little too vulgarly,
Antoine had thought, biting his own tongue to keep from saying
something he might later be sorry for ...
"Darling ... do you understand what I've been trying to tell
you?" Ginny questioned, moving close to him once more.
"I-I ... I've got to think," he said, walking to a table and
stubbing out his cigarette.
"About me?"
He went to her quickly, enfolding her into his arms once
more. "Hell no ... not about you, Cheri. You've haunted my mind
for a year now." He kissed her. "Look, we have to get out of here
... get back to the party before we're missed."
"Yes, I know. Tomorrow then ... at the summer place?"
"At the summer place ... I wouldn't miss it for anything in
the world."
"Oh ... Oh Darling," she moaned, kissing him a last time. "I
wish I was twenty-one instead of twenty-nine ... I wish I'd never
known a man before you ..."
"Funny," he said, grinning down at her, "I'm glad that you're
twenty-nine ... and more happy that you've known other men. Now,
I'm going to get the benefit of all that experience ... and it
better be good."
"Whatever it is, it'll be for you and you alone."
"We'll see," he teased.
"Yes," she whispered, "we'll see ..."
Chapter 3
Madeleine could not sleep. She lay restless in the large bed
of their expensive Ville de Hampstead apartment, waiting for
Antoine to join her. He had wanted a nightcap, but she had been
too upset and had gone straight to bed. Now, she could hear the
soft music from the tape-deck and visualized him sitting in his
favorite chair with his feet up on the ottoman, comfortably
stretched out and leisurely enjoying a scotch ... entertaining no
idea in this world of the abhorrent secret she must now live with.
Her brain whirled in her still-shamed, utter debasement.
Again, she had failed this proud young man she loved so much, and
this time, there could be no forgiveness. If only she had told
him of Igat in the beginning, bared her soul to him ... made a
clean breast of it. He'd loved her ... would probably have
understood, but now ... it was too late. Dear God, how could she
tell him now without laying the whole sordid story before him ...
yes, even the way Uncle Gaston had forced his salacious attentions
on her? She couldn't, not without revealing the whole despicable
truth. Yet, if she didn't turn to her Antoine for help, where
could she go?
There had been time to think since leaving the party, and
once out of Larreau's horrible, dominating presence, Madeleine
realized she could not keep their wicked appointment the next day;
she just couldn't give herself to that foul beast ... yet, if she
didn't, he had threatened to bring harm to both Igat and herself.
She didn't care about herself ... but her baby ... her baby meant
more than anything in the whole world.
Dear Antoine ... Antoine ... please come and help me? I need
you so badly. Help me tell you my dreaded secret this very night
... Be understanding ... forgiving ... and take us away from here
before some terrible thing happens to all of us through that evil
man.
Quietly, Madeleine prayed for guidance and strength while she
awaited the moment Antoine would join her. She must tell him
about Igat ... she must! Perhaps she should hold back the horrid
secret of Uncle Gaston's outrageous act, for to tell Antoine that
would only serve to rile the troubled waters even more so.
Certainly, it could serve no other purpose than to arouse hatred
... even vengeance of some nature, and God knows, she didn't want
to strain their relationship any more than it was at this time,
when they were yet to truly know each other, in love.
Once more, she began to toss restlessly on the bed. Why
didn't he come now? At this moment she felt certain she could
tell everything from the very beginning and make him realize.
Yes, she would even tell him about M. Keel, the first iniquitous
brute to bring her heartbreak. It was the only way ... recount it
all in full ... everything and pray to God that he would try to
understand.
Now, as she waited, her mind began to fill with unwanted
memories, and she recalled how she had run away in the night from
Mont Du Bane, the small fishing village of her birth on the
Peninsule De Gaspe, escaping, she had felt, with the American
named Keel, a salesman who passed that way twice a year to sell
goods to M. Bidette, le Garde-Magasin.
Four years ago, she remembered, but the bitter reveries were
as vivid in her mind as if they had taken place yesterday. She
had been sixteen, nearly seventeen, the fourth of nine children
and by far the prettier of her three sisters, she knew. She
recalled that even at twelve, when she had begun to develop her
pubescent charms, the opposite sex had always been strongly
attracted to her, especially the older men, and she had been
pleased, taking pride in her long black hair and the hygiene of
her teeth, realizing that if she were ever to be liberated from
the destined weary bondage of becoming a fisherman's wife, these
were the assets upon which she would have to trade.
The day she had met the American she was physically ripe, a
sensually alluring young woman, while he was somewhere in his
aging fifties. She had only to smile at him coquettishly to see
his small eyes come alive with lecherous excitement, and as she
tripped provocatively from M. Bidette's store she felt certain he
would follow.
It was difficult to remember all the little lurid details
now, even, difficult to recall his features ... only a faceless,
grey-haired, fat man ... taller and bigger than Uncle Gaston in
every respect, but certainly his parallel in villainy, she
realized now. And how upset she'd been at first when she decided
that he wasn't going to follow her, but by the time she'd reached
the edge of the village he had come along in his car and offered
her a ride.
She hadn't hesitated; instead, she'd climbed in and began an
immediate conversation. He spoke French, which had made it that
much easier for her to play the flirt with him, and when he'd
reached over placing his big, heavy, hair-covered hand on her knee
she had pretended at being excitedly flustered, while in truth her
flesh had recoiled at his touch and she'd winced repugnantly
within her flat little belly.
"N-Not here ... not here," she'd insisted, catching at his
hand and noticing the obscene bulge to the front of his trousers
where his pumpkinlike stomach adjoined his groin. "There's no
place here where we won't be seen ..."
"Where, then?" he'd rasped, his licentious, bloodshot eyes
raking her young curvaceous body hungrily.
"There's no safe place around here," she'd answered him
quickly. "And if we were caught my father would kill you ..."
Suddenly, he'd pulled off to the side of the dirtroad, his
arms enveloping her and his thick lips engulfing hers, wetly,
voraciously, sucking her small mouth into his own like a vacuum
cleaner. She'd tried to struggle, but his surprise lunge had
caused a frightened wave of dizziness to overwhelm her and
momentarily she'd thought she would faint. He'd held her so tight
that the breath had rushed out of her, and even now she could not
remember whether he was deceivingly strong, or she unexplainably
weak. His tongue had burst into her mouth like a slimy, wet eel,
exploring, brushing obscenely around the inside. She had been
nearly overcome with his odor of sweat and cologne, and his
massive anomalous body easily subdued her own.
"No, no, no!" she'd insisted. "Let me go ... Later! Later!"
She'd fought him furiously, until at last, he'd seemed to
regain control of himself and listen.
"What ... later? What'd you mean?" he grunted, breathing
heavily into her face.
She had bit at her lower lip. "I want you to take me away
with you."
He'd stared at her. "Away with me ...?"
"Yes. I want to go to Boston. If you'll take me with you
... then ... then I'll let you ... do things to me."
He had continued to gape at her, his hungry, red-rimmed eyes
growing more gluttonous with lust at each passing second. "All
right ... all right, tonight. We'll go tonight," he'd said,
perspiration dribbling down his heavy jowls. "Yes, by God ...
tonight!"
She would have done anything to get away from the decaying
hovel of her parents, the absurd poverty of the village, and the
inevitable arranged marriage to come. God, she remembered, she
had only to look upon the drudge who was her mother, a woman
unbelievably aged beyond her thirty-five years to find
justification in the way she had run off.
Keel had told her he was not married; she hadn't believed
him. Anyway, that had been unimportant; all that mattered was
getting to Boston where she could meet a nice American boy and
marry him. How many nights she'd dreamed such fantasies ... a
pretty little house with flowers around it, an automobile of their
own, and perhaps one, two, even three babies, depending, of
course, upon what her husband would want; and a wardrobe of three
or four plain dresses, with as many beautiful ones for best ...
for this was the way with American husbands, she'd been certain,
having seen the pictures and read of their love and generosity in
the old copies of magazines Docteur Laprise kept in his waiting
room.
So, she'd left the note to her mother, saying little except
that she was sorry, and that one day she would return to make them
all proud of her ... and Grace a Dieu for M. Keel, for she wanted
her parents to believe that he was a noble man doing this for her
out of the goodness of his heart.
A noble man ... indeed ... Yet, at first, he'd been extremely
kind, performing all the simple things to please her, taking her
into restaurants where they were served hot-beef sandwiches after
the soup-of-the-day, then little pastries for dessert. She had
never known such luxury, and before the first day was over she had
convinced herself that she'd misjudged him, and vowed not to show
the slightest sign of offense when he put his big hand on her
thigh outside her dress as they drove along, or when he playfully
squeezed and fondled her firm young breasts at every opportunity
... but she shortly had learned that her first opinion was very
much correct. M. Keel was a vile brute!
However, she recalled now, that before ever realizing the
extent of his evilness, she'd convinced herself to willingly carry
out her part of their bargain. A girl had to be prepared to pay a
price for such an extravagant life as she sought ... an American
husband ... living in the States ... and all of the little
luxuries that were actually considered necessities in that great
country ... besides, it was not as if she had never known Jean
Louis Blanchette, son of the avocat who had lived upon the hill
and who was betrothed to Docteur Laprise's daughter, Francine.
Jean Louis had punched away her virginity with his stubby little
penis, and together they had discovered many exciting things in
the ways of love, but with him it had been so titillating and
romantic, while Keel had made her nausee even with the numbing of
the wine ...
He had registered them into a seedy motel at Riviere du Loup
even before the sun had set ... had bought wine and poured into
the cloudy tumblers that set in a tray on the scarred bureau
before removing his coat. Then, he'd smiled and said: "Take off
your things, my dear. This is home."
She'd made a tight little smile of her own in response and
removed her coat obediently while he took it to hang in the open
closet. He ogled her then, in the ruffled and ribboned pink-
gingham dress her mother had made for her, licking at his lips,
the gentleness she had seen earlier abruptly gone from his eyes,
leaving only exigent lust which had added even more ugliness to
his carnal face.
At that moment she had wanted to get away from him, at least
temporarily, and she'd walked past him toward the tiny bathroom.
He came up behind her before she could reach the door, putting
both hands on her firm, young buttocks. She'd frozen, sucking in
a short breath.
"Lovely," he'd murmured. "You're a lovely piece, Baby." His
hands had moved over her bottom and hips, around to her belly and
upward to cup her lush, erect breasts. He pulled her back against
him until she could feel the flab of his stomach and the hardness
of his shaft grinding into the crevice between her round, full
buttocks. She steeled herself, not resisting, until finally he'd
let free of her, stepping back away. "Well ... go ahead and
piddle. Then we'll have a little drinkie before we ... ah ...
tumble into bed, eh?"
Laying there in the semi-darkness, Madeleine felt a slight
tremor ripple over her as it had at his offensive, intimate touch
all those years before, and graphically she began to recall even
the most odious minute details ... it was almost as if she could
feel his depraved hands on her at that moment ...
She stood there, subjected to his coarse explorations, his
suggestive words racing wildly through her brain and she trembled,
a convulsive shudder traversing the length of her soft, young
body, from the tips of her toes to the very peak of her scalp.
She looked toward the sagging bed, swallowing with difficulty.
There was no longer any dubious mystery in her mind of what was to
come ... no overshadowing ambiguity. Upon this bed it would
happen to her, and she would be forced to endure his obese
loathsomeness. Abruptly, the rays of the setting sun caught her
eyes through the window and the thought of escape briefly rushed
to mind ... but she fought it and went on into the bathroom. She
must get to Boston.
When she returned, he held forth her glass of wine and she
took it.
"You drink wine at home, eh?" He grinned. "You Canucks like
your wine ... I know about that."
Madeleine didn't answer him. The fact was, they were allowed
only small amounts with meals, but she saw no reason to tell him
this ... or anything. She took a long swallow, hoping its effect
would be to soothe, even dull her senses for what was to come.
"Go ahead, drink up," Keel said. "Have all you want: it's
good for you." She watched his grin twist crookedly. "Makes you
sexy, too ... and we want that, don't we, Baby?"
Madeleine felt her face flushing. She watched him gulp away
his entire glassful, then tilted her own to her lips. He nodded
approvingly and filled the tumblers once more; then, as she stared
half-fascinated, he began removing his clothes as if the act was
completely divorced from her.
He turned to her suddenly. "Well ...? Want me to strip you,
myself?"
She hadn't stopped trembling, but she managed to shake her
head, set down her wine and unfasten the snaps behind at her neck,
then, firming her lips determinedly, wriggled the dress from her
shoulders, down over her full, rounded young hips and stepped out
of it. Immediately, she sensed his eyes greedily feeding upon her
but she dare not look at him lest she break in a mad flight for
the door. Instead, she automatically lifted her slip over her
head, picked up her dress and laid them over the one chair in the
room. She felt embarrassingly naked before him, even though she
was still strategically covered with her panties, garter belt, bra
and the only pair of nylons she had ever owned.
The wine took its initial effect then, producing a wave of
light-headedness. She glanced at Keel; he was naked, removing his
socks. His body was as massive and gross as his face, his
jaundice-hued flesh sagging and wet with perspiration, causing him
to glisten before her. Then, she saw it ... his thick penis ...
rigid and standing out from beneath the hanging bulk of his flabby
belly, surrounded by a heavy growth of greying pubic hair. Once
more, she trembled in revulsion as she stared at him, the thought
of his fat body upon her own sending waves of fear and abhorrence
through her. The mere thought ...! My God! She couldn't do it!
She simply couldn't!
Keel arose and faced her. His mouth had fallen open with a
certain slackness, his lecherous eyes seeming to bug as he gaped
wildly at her long, nylon-encased legs, the area of cream-white
thigh above, the full, firm breasts causing delicious dunes of
smooth, satin flesh above their tight cup-shaped enclosures, the
area of milk-white midriff, the long sensuous contour of her hips
... Madeleine's eyes widened in shocked disbelief as he broke into
a slow, salacious leer and his hand moved downward and began to
lewdly stroke the heavy uncircumcised foreskin of his massive
shaft back and forth over its hard, blood-filled head.
"Ever see anything like that, Baby?" he taunted in vulgar
pride. "Can you imagine how nice it's going to feel when I shove
it up into that tight little hole of yours ...?"
The depraved spectacle coupled with lascivious words
nauseated her and she gasped at him: "I can't! My God, I can't,
M'sieu'! I just can't do it ...!"
He continued to stare at her, his stiff, fleshy rod in his
hand, his red-saucered eyes narrowing dangerously. "What the hell
do you mean?" he half-growled at her. "Forgetting our bargain,
ain't you, Baby?"
Madeleine took a step backwards and he moved toward her, his
eyes suddenly seeming vacant of anything human ... only lust,
evil, cruel and unyielding.
"N-No ... please, M'sieu' Keel?" she stammered in accented
English. "Please ... I can't do it ... I mean it ..! I-I thought
I could, but I can't. Listen ... I'll leave ... catch the bus
back to Mont Du Banc ..."
"The fuck you will, baby. That li'l pussy of yours is mine
tonight!" he spat at her, his hands reaching out and clutching her
to him, his mouth coming down savagely upon her own as he had done
the day before in his car, thick, wet tongue bursting between her
lips furiously.
Madeleine struggled but he easily pressed her with him toward
the bed. It was almost as if they were one individual, his great
body seeming to move with her, rather than opposing her frantic
efforts, leaving her nothing absolute to fight against. A
frenzied panic seized at her belly and she felt herself beginning
to tremble uncontrollably; the room carrouseled before her and all
of a sudden she was staring upward at the ceiling ... and it was
coming down to meet her, his wicked, lust-filled eyes joining it
fiendishly. She fought him, turning her face away, her strength
quickly ebbing in futile desperation. His tremendous weight
poured over her amorphously and her remaining clothes were being
stripped away, while the huge, shapeless bulk crushing the breath
from her emitted strange animal-like noises, until at last, she
was completely naked.
He raised up off her then, having securely wedged himself
between her forced-apart thighs and she saw him kneeling erect,
his face twisted in a lewd, almost brutal grin. He said something
that didn't register in her fear-stricken brain, as her eyes
trailed down his repulsive torso to the ugly, long, thick penis
jutting forth angrily from his hair-covered loins. She saw the
heavy, wrinkled sac hanging beneath it and further repugnance
gripped at her belly.
"Now ... I'm going to fuck the livin' shit out of you, Baby
... just the way you led me to believe you wanted it," he hissed
down at her.
Madeleine couldn't speak ... could barely breathe in her
horror and shame; instead, she gaped up at him, too awe stricken
to cry, engulfed suddenly by an overpowering sense of miserable
degradation, the sight of her own naked young body spread
obscenely beneath him filling her with a debasement that would
live with her forever, and the helplessness of her situation
screamed in her wine-fogged mind as she realized he was actually
enjoying this wicked defilement he was subjecting her helpless
body to, the cruel gleam ever-growing in his eyes bordering on
sadism.
Until that moment, she had given no thought to the physical
aspects of the coupling itself, but now a new, and acute, sense of
terror came alive as she watched him on his knees before her, once
more stroking himself. Her eyes locked on the fleshy instrument
he was holding in his big hand. Its thickness was beyond belief.
The size of a man's organ had never occurred to her before in her
young life; there had been no reason for any such forbidden
concern ... but suddenly the realization of her own small size in
comparison to his huge thing struck her. Dear God! It would
split her apart ... tear her horribly! She could never take that
inside her, she knew ... she'd examined herself that close before
...!
"Does it frighten you, Baby?" he leered at her, continuing to
fondle and massage the vile looking blunt spear of rigid flesh,
working the heavy outer layer of skin to-and-fro, exposing its
smooth, bulbous head, only to sheath it once more, then repeat the
lewd act. "Well, don't let it ... 'cause this cock's going to
bring you more pleasure than you've ever had in your life, eh?"
He went on tormenting her, gloatingly watching the distressed
expressions of fear contorting her beautiful young face, and at
last Madeleine felt the hot tears dribbling down the sides of her
cheeks as she realized that there was no mercy to appeal to in
this man ... and dear God, she had brought it all upon herself.
She hardly heard his filthy utterances anymore; at first, his foul
use of all those vile four-letter words that she had barely, if
ever heard spoken in forbidden whispers or dirty little stories
from girls her own age, had near-sickened her, but now her mind
was too occupied with the hopelessness of her position and the
horrifying terror of knowing there was no escape for her ... he
was going to ravish her defenseless, near-chaste body no matter
how she pleaded with him not to. God Almighty, there was nowhere
to turn ... she was alone and completely at his mercy ...!
She rolled her head away from him and her heart pounded in
her chest as she lay too petrified to move, her soft white thighs
wide under him, her pink, thin vaginal slit fringed so lightly
with its soft, raven hair, delicately splitting the pouting
flanges of her completely exposed crotch that was helplessly
available to his slightest whim. Her belly quaked in her fear, as
though he had already forced the long, thick penis jutting out
from his aged, hairy loins into the painful depths of her. The
mere thought again sent a tremor of sheer horror to register in
her brain, not only for the unforgivable sin itself, but from the
agonizing, anticipated suffering the inhuman organ was bound to
cause her.
She lay seemingly rooted to the mattress beneath, her shame
and humiliation complete, as she watched in frozen trepidation the
slow, decisive movements of his hands toward her vulnerable
genitals; he placed his thumbs to rest on the soft, fleshy lips of
her pussy and torturously drew them apart, laying open her moist,
coral flesh to his lust-inflamed eyes. Slowly, he lowered his
head as if to view the naked, delectable site more closely, and
breathlessly she watched as his lecherous eyes drank of it
greedily for a long moment, its almost virginal beauty delighting
him, until he could seemingly no longer endure the abstinence and
he dropped his head, thrusting the full length of his wet,
salacious tongue deep into the quivering warm depths of her tight
young vagina.
Madeleine's body responded of its own volition, jerking with
convulsive lurches, a loud groan emitting from her throat as her
buttocks ground downward in an effort to escape the bestial
outrage he was committing upon her defenseless young womanhood.
Her stomach churned in veritable repulsion and she wailed aloud
loathsomely as his tongue slithered in and out of her unwanting,
cuntal opening.
"Oooooohhhh ... my ... my God! Wh-What ...? Oooohhh, stop
... stop it!" she groaned in shocked humiliation, her head raising
to shake negatively as down through her breasts she watched his
violent assault on her naked vagina. It couldn't be true! It
wasn't happening to her, she thought while his tongue raced up
into her unreceptive, yet rapidly dilating cuntal walls.
"Oooohhh, dear God ... please stop, M'sieu'?" she begged in her
shame as unwanted, and never before, twinges of lurid pleasure
immediately began to permeate her entire body from his depraved
animalistic tonguing of her moist, quivering slit.
And he did, all of a sudden, raising up to again grin lewdly
down at her, his lips wet from his own saliva mixed with the
viscid secretion from her pussy, and as she stared he ran his
thick tongue over his lips and said: "Christ ... nectar from the
gods could never taste like that delicious little cunt, Baby. I'm
going to have to eat more of that ... but it can wait ..."
And then he moved up further over her, lowering his evil face
slowly with parting lips until he sucked a ruby, hard nipple
between them, his mouth spreading to encompass even a generous
portion of the proud, white firm flesh, and abruptly she felt his
teeth sink into it cruelly. She groaned aloud with the pain and
tried to push his big face away, but he held her tight while his
hands taunted the softness of her thighs, hips and buttocks, until
in despair, she relaxed her struggles in helpless subservience.
He raised up from her erect, firm breast and leered down.
"You understand now, don't you, Baby? You're going to get fucked,
just the way you wanted it." He chuckled lewdly. "Take me to
Boston, you said, and I'll let you. All right, to Boston we go
... but first we fuck and suck, right? ... Well? Answer me ...
right?"
"Oh ... Oh please, M'sieu'... I was wrong ... I didn't know
... Don't do anymore to me ... I'll go away ... never tell anyone,
I swear ..."
"You'll swear, eh?" Once more, he laughed with licentious
cruelty. "You goddamned frogs ... you get me, you know what?" His
ugly face contorted fiercely. "Spread those thighs, kid ... wider
... wider! Yeah ... that's better ... now, just hold onto your
skull, sweetheart, 'cause daddy's about to fuck the livin' hell
out of you ...!"
Madeleine's breath lodged in her throat, as above her she
read his leer of triumph, and she whined aloud in pure fear ... at
the same time helplessly answering his command to spread her legs
obscenely apart. He rested up over her, his arms, two giant
pillars on either side of her shoulders; she then saw one move
away as its hand disappeared down between them; she whimpered as
the thick rubbery head of his huge cock parted the sensitive,
fleshy lips of her tight, hardly-adult pussy. Again, she rolled
her head to one side and then the other, clutching her eyes
tightly shut even as a tremor fluttered through her at the sudden,
galvanic tangency of its insinuation inside the hair-lined flanges
of the slit he had lubricated with his salaciously licking tongue.
Her breath, she still held wadded in her throat as she lay beneath
him in total defeat, fearing to release it in her anxiety.
He eased his heavy hips downward and forward with a
gentleness she never would have expected of him, yet, even so, the
first actual contact with the tiny mouth of her vagina caused her
to wince and cringe with a loud moan.
"Oh God, NO!" she cried as the huge head pressured tightly
against the pink, snug elastic opening between her widespread
thighs.
Once more.
"Aaaaaauuuggghhh," she grunted, as suddenly the tip slipped
inside just beyond its coronal rim and she really sensed the first
cruel stretching of the taut, rubbery opening in her crotch. My
God ... with Jean Louis it had been nothing like this ... even the
first time! It was as she had feared! Her thighs were splitting
apart from the continuing, expanding pressures! He was going to
rip her open ... tear her completely apart ... maybe, even leave
her to bleed to death between her legs once he was finished with
her ...!
He flicked his hips once more and she screamed at him.
"Ohhhh ... Mon Dieu! No ... No! You're killing me, M'sieu'!
I'll bleed to death! Ohhhh stop ... stop ... please, I beg ...!"
Then, there came a burst of agony between her naked thighs, a
sudden, deep, plunging entry as if a white-hot ingot had been
thrust into her body.
She screamed, futilely attempting to recoil from the fleshy
snake, but it pursued her however she managed to twist and writhe,
and a wet mouth clamped onto hers, chewing at her gasping lips and
tongue, while the searing torture-rod raced in and out and in,
pounding her little-girl cunt until she was certain it was being
devoured by tongues of flame, and her whole lower portions seemed
to be torn asunder, causing gushes of tears to stream down her
cheeks until at last, she made her final sob ... and fainted dead
away.
Madeleine awakened much later. It was dark and a bedside
lamp burned in the room. As she gathered her wits slowly, she
became aware of her breasts being stroked, and that a human being
lay tight against her back. She was on her side, in a bed,
covered with an unfamiliar patch-quilt. She was naked except for
her ruined stockings. It all came back to her then ... she felt
like weeping over the nylons. She took a deep breath and gazed at
what loomed before her eyes. The room was strange and her head
throbbed. Then, the agonized ache in her vagina registered, and
as she moved ever so slightly its soreness whipped her breath
away. She stopped moving; it felt as if something was lodged
inside it ... but after a moment, she knew that was not so.
Momentarily, the events past materialized into a pattern of
horror, and without moving further, she dropped her eyes to gape
at the fleshy hand caressing her breast. So ... it was reality!
He had done it to her! And that accounted for the inflamed fury
at her groin. All right ... so, it was done. She'd kept her end
of the bargain after all ... Good. Damnit ... good! Instantly,
she found that she was somewhat happy now that it was behind her.
At least, he hadn't gotten her virginity ... the filthy pig! And
now, he couldn't deny her Boston.
"I'm thirsty," she said matter-of-factly, licking at her
parched lips. "I'd like some water."
She made a motion toward arising but he held her down. Then,
his hand ran down her belly, the fingers tracing a line over her
hip to rest in the hollow of her buttock. She felt his heavy bulk
stir behind her as he rolled from the bed.
"You stay put, Baby. I'll get it for you ... in honor of
your tight little pussy and most beautiful ass."
His filthy words twisted at her entrails. Dear God, she
thought, what could she have been thinking of? Then, he came into
view around the foot of the bed and she watched his flabby
buttocks shake obscenely as he walked to his valise. She stared
at him, refusing to believe that he had actually penetrated her
almost virginal body so intimately.
"What you need's a slug of vodka and water," he prescribed.
"No ... please. Just water."
He grinned. "Better learn to listen to your elders, Baby.
They know what's best."
It was useless, like everything else. She watched him pour a
small amount from the bottle he took out of his bag, then fill the
tumbler with water. He brought it to her and she drank thirstily;
he climbed over her, laying down behind her once more. She tried
to ignore his intense body heat, thinking vaguely how different
one saw things once they were over and done with.
The drink was effective, bracing and warming her stomach.
She lay quietly and felt him snuggle closer to her. That, she
could endure; tomorrow they would be in Boston and she had enough
money ... dear God ... he had another erection! It felt huge
against the cleavage of her bottom.
"You've got skin like green moss, Baby. Ever feel moss?
It's as soft as velvet ... maybe softer," he said.
"Th-Thank you."
"But ... you surprised me, kid." He sniggered quietly. "You
weren't no goddamned virgin like I expected. Someone'd been in
that little cunt of yours playing around before me."
"No! That's not true," she lied. "It's ... it's from riding
the horse for my brother when he plowed."
Keel laughed outright. "So ...? Cherries are always trouble
anyway; they scream too loud. It makes no difference. You were
good, kid. You were good ... wild enough as it was. That's some
tight little cunt you've got ... or had." He laughed lewdly.
"Can't imagine what it'd been like if it was any tighter."
He spoke the words with intense pleasure. It was obvious to
Madeleine that he'd enjoyed every minute of her rape. She didn't
respond, simply laid there, her mind almost a blank now, her only
thoughts when they did occur, were of Boston and her future.
His pulsing shaft of flesh pressing between her soft, round
buttocks surprised her with a sudden jerking motion, and then he
put his hand on her waist, clutching at her hardly perceptible hip
bone to draw her bottom toward his loins.
"Please?" she sparred, feeling quite safe now.
His huge body moved closer against her from behind and then
he was nibbling at the nape of her neck, moving along to her
shoulder. She lay, pretending impassiveness, even as a little
ball of apprehension began to form once more inside her belly.
Abruptly, his hand slipped between her thighs where her buttocks
adjoined them. She jerked automatically, but his presence there
no longer shocked her, nor did it please her either, but in fact,
it affected her no way at all. His thick, long fingers dallied at
the lips of her vagina, finally oozing inside her passage to
gently stroke its walls. Her wetness startled her and she
contracted her bowels in spite of herself. Then, amazingly
enough, it occurred to her that she was not exactly repelled by
his manipulations this time, that even a certain amount of thrill
was surging through her. God ... what was she becoming, anyway?
Was this the way it happened to the girls she had known who had
ran away to Montreal? Were all females affected by something
inserted in, or playing at the mouths of their pussies? She'd
never have believed it if someone had told her ... And then, his
rigid prick slipped between her tight, full thighs following his
leading fingers that had probed for her pelvic opening.
God, she had to keep a hold on herself. "Please, M'sieu'
Keel, I'm too sore for that," she managed in English.
"It's all in your head, kid ... just lay perfectly still and
enjoy it," he hissed hotly into her ear.
Damn him! She caught at the moment of anger swelling up in
her throat, swallowed twice, then felt the turgid head of his cock
find the irritated ring of the moist hair-lined orifice between
her thighs. Momentarily, she winced, groaning as it wormed into
her, but he gave no quarter, and at that precise moment of entry
he seemed to become transformed with all the animal-like qualities
she had already become familiar with. His breath rasped from his
lungs in a grunting burst and he skewered viciously and completely
right up into her, so emphatically that she let out a cry of agony
and tried to pull free of him.
"Oh pleaseee! You're hurting me!" she exclaimed.
But he held her fast, a hand clutching around each hip so
that his fingers gouged into the firm pliable flesh of her
abdomen. He thrust into her from behind without mercy, growing
ever larger and larger. She gasped, writhing in her
understandable increasing agony, impaled completely, helplessly,
once again. His thighs were sweaty, sticky-hot along the
undersides of her own, and the bristly hairs of his loins prickled
at her nude buttocks. He pounded into her without letup.
Good God, he seemed to pack her entire young belly with his
massive, pummeling prick ... up to her breasts ... and maybe
beyond. Sometimes, he hurt her she thought, but not so often now,
and there were other moments when it seemed as if he were bursting
inside her, expanding intricate parts that had always been secret,
closed, forbidden. He was like a churning sea of volcanic lava
behind her, hissing, swirling, tossing, thundering and crashing
against her soft, smooth behind.
"Jesus Christ!" she heard him grunt in English, while his
fingers ground deeply into her belly, making her cry out. She
felt an increased pressure at her hips, then he was pulling and
guiding her onto her knees, forcing himself up behind her. She
didn't resist, but let herself be maneuvered, although the
animalistic position completely embarrassed her. She had never
kneeled in front of a man before.
Madeleine felt him inch closer between her widespread thighs,
separating them even further with his knees, ramming his lust-
inflated cock deeper and deeper, to the very hilt ... his heavy,
bloated balls swaying and slapping against her now erect and
quivering clitoris as it peeked from its little shrine between the
spread moist lips of her tight cunt. Stretched open this way, he
was reaching an unmerciful depth inside her, forcing gasp after
gasp of deceiving pain-pleasure from her panting mouth. Her back
had already begun to ache from the cruel pressure of his hands
about her waist, thrusting her upper torso down so that her
buttocks loomed up toward his face. She had never even dreamed
such debasement before in her young life; she wondered ... how
could she ever face anyone again?
The pleasure was growing ... the pain lessening ... a never-
before weird, erotic sensation; her loins tingled and clenched and
there began a tiny, maddening, electric-like prickling that
instigated deep within her womb and seeped relentlessly through
the raw nerve ends of her flesh. His groin pounded her buttocks
with punishing, resounding emphasis. She heard little wailing
groans commence to escape him, and her own sensations had begun to
ripple through her cunt and out the inflamed, fleece-lined lips,
dancing like fire across her thighs. He writhed and fucked into
her, raising a whine from her throat with every in-plunge. Dear
God, he seemed to be continuously growing inside her ... and going
higher and higher toward her throat. Her firm, youthful breasts
heaved and jounced, their nipples distended, pebble-hard and
tingling as they brushed tantalizingly against the linen of the
bed, and she found herself waggling the stretched moons of her ass
uncontrollably back on his spearing rod of flesh ... ignoring her
tormenting soreness, aware only of the great building pressure of
fluid, screaming urgency in her loins ... pressure that was
reaching toward a fine point of sheer bliss.
This was it! What Jean Louis had tried to explain and was
incapable of arousing in her. Mon Dieu ... this was it ...! She
had come to the conclusion it could never happen to her ... but it
was! Oh God ... oh God ...! There was a tremendous ever-
expanding balloon blowing up to an impossible size within her.
Abruptly, she wailed aloud, an eerie shriek as the balloon
exploded sending wild, ecstatic, liquid sensations to race
poundingly through her loins, overwhelming her with utter joy, yet
she screamed and screamed as the tears of frightening enchantment
spilled down her cheeks in a rush of delightful relief.
Finally, she began to calm, but she was trembling like a leaf
in a storm, her belly quivering, while he continued to incessantly
thrust his massive prick into her moist, dilated vagina with
driving ferocity, rasping and grunting like a madman and shoving
her face into the bed with every wicked, forward plunge. Her
momentarily forgotten soreness began to make its existence known
once more; her passage bore the feeling of being massaged with
steel-wool. She gnashed her teeth, praying now that she could
endure it until he would cum ... and then it occurred to her that
he had taken no precautions ... that once he squirted his life-
giving sperm into her, she could become pregnant. A new wave of
fear spiraled through her and she tried to pull away from him, but
he wouldn't have it. He clung to her hips savagely, ramming with
vicious strokes; she tried to plead her situation but by that time
he was muttering to himself, an incoherent sound that quickly
graduated into a moaning, groaning agony.
She felt a numbed splitting pain as the brutal head of his
deep sunk cock suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to
tear the tiny clamlike mouth of her womb wide asunder. It jerked
and began to spurt; she sensed the gushing hot, white semen
shooting into her in seething bursts, sloshing around inside her
belly with the effect of liquid fire. The pores of her tight,
still palpitating vagina seemed to clasp around it of their own
volition, the raw, pink sheath sucking and milking the jerking
shaft as if governed by a separate brain of its own ... once more
spilling its near-virginal juices into the already flooded cavern
of her involuntarily quivering pussy.
At last, he fell on her with a groan, his great weight
causing her to collapse beneath him. She struggled for breath,
protested and he rolled off her. She said nothing, but got from
the bed and went into the bedroom to clean herself up and apply
cold towels to her aching loins and battered young slit. When she
returned he was asleep on the bed, laying fat and naked, his
snores filling the room. Quietly, she crawled beneath the covers
and closed her eyes, falling into an exhausted sleep.
Once in the night, Madeleine remembered, he had come to her
again and she'd tried to protest, arousing anger in him. When
she'd attempted to push him away he'd slapped her hard, then
climbed up over her, stretching her thighs wide apart once again.
She'd sobbed half-hysterically, but he'd ignored her, stuffing his
rigid vile shaft into her tender and bruised cunt yet once more,
his great bulk bearing down upon her mercilessly. And as his
brutal, thick cock pummeled deeper and deeper into her tortured
vagina, she could hear him sniggering almost insanely ... and that
was the second time she fainted that night.
Now, reflecting back as she lay there waiting for Antoine to
come to her, Madeleine recalled how her misery and heartbreak had
just begun. In the morning, she had awakened to find M. Keel
gone. She had called out first, thinking him to be in the bath,
but suddenly panic had seized her and she'd leaped from the bed
naked, flinging back the door to see that his car was not there!
God, how she had wept!
The proprietaire, an aged man named M. Rondeau and his wife,
had sensed her circumstances and taken her to them, provided for
her under their roof, and in turn she had worked as long as she
could through her pregnancy, maintaining the cabins and keeping
the house until her time came. They had even paid for Dr. Carey
to deliver her, and advised that she give Igat up when the drunken
physician had suggested he could put the child in a good home in
Montreal where she could look forward to a full and respectable
life.
God, how Madeleine wished she had never listened to them ...
her sweet, precious Igat ... The loss was greater than she could
ever have imagined ... and once she had learned that the wealthy
Rafael Girardes had her baby, she had immediately come to Montreal
just to be close to her ... happy if she were even able to catch a
glimpse of her child on the street. If ... if only there were
some way she could make arrangements with Mr. Girarde just to see
her ... to talk to her once in awhile ... it wouldn't be so bad,
and maybe she could endure it ... Perhaps if she went and spoke to
the wealthy importer who held some sort of seat in government ...
He was probably a reasonable man ... If only there was some way
she could tell Antoine, and he would help ... Why didn't he come
to bed? She needed him so badly ...
Madeleine tossed a few more minutes in her restless
confusion, the steady stream of unhappy memories draining her
until she closed her eyes in choked weariness. Why didn't he come
... why didn't he ...?
She slept.
Chapter 4
Antoine made himself a third scotch and soda. He sat in his
favorite chair with his feet up on the ottoman and let the music
toil at soothing him. He was still upset; completely confused
about Galaxy Mining and Uncle Gaston, and a bundle of ragged,
mixed emotions concerning Ginny Novak. He could hardly think of
anything but the vivid memory of her soft, vibrant body pressing
hotly against him in the playroom ... her kisses and exuberant
passion ... her admittance that she had wanted him physically for
so long, just as he had ardently yearned for her ... insisting
that they had to make love ... even to suggesting their trysting
place. God, it was wrong ... wrong! And he knew it ... such
adulterous deceit behind his beloved Madeleine's back ... and to
commit against this man who had befriended and raised him ...
Christ, how low could a person sink? Well, he knew he was going
to find out; he couldn't help himself. He would go to the summer
house at Ste. Agathe des Monts tomorrow.
He didn't know but what Madeleine suspected something. She
had hardly spoken to him after leaving the party at Uncle
Gaston's, nor he to her, and the little conversation they had
exchanged seemed desultory and strained. He wondered if she had
seen him going off with Ginny; he doubted it, but then, of course,
he wasn't certain. He couldn't face her anymore this night ...
not with knowing what he intended to do tomorrow, so he'd
suggested the nightcap, certain she would refuse, and now he
wanted to be sure she was sleeping when he joined her in bed.
Truly, he felt like a cad, but damnit, he doubted that he
could endure a session of her amateur sexual calisthenics tonight,
which was no reflection at all of his feeling for her; he loved
her; there wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind about that ...
but he needed a woman, a warm-blooded, capable woman who knew how
to satisfy a man ... and there was damn little question but what
Ginny Novak could and would accomplish the task. God, just the
idea caused a stirring in his loins.
He tried to imagine what Uncle Gaston would do if he ever
found out; he was such an unpredictable man that it was impossible
to even hazard a guess. It was obvious that Ginny meant nothing
to him except for satisfying his ruttish needs, yet, by the same
token, Antoine assumed that he watched, or had her watched
closely, just as he had with all the mistresses before her. They
were his property; he appraised them, bought them, owned them, and
when he was through with them they were discarded. Factually,
Antoine had no idea what ever became of the many lovely young
women he had seen come and go before Ginny, but he truly doubted
that they were forced into the cordon of prostitutes who were
obliged to share a large portion of their earnings with the czar
of the Canadian underworld, as Ginny had tried to make him
believe.
Antoine had never blinded himself to Gaston Larreau's sources
of wealth, his criminal liaisons, or especially his syndicate
connections, but nothing could ever make him believe that the man
he called uncle would ever allow anything to happen to him. There
was no question in his mind that if Galaxy was in serious trouble,
he could rely on Uncle Gaston to protect him. Ginny was very much
in error on that point, too.
She was acrimoniously bitter and he could understand that,
the way the powerful little man abused her, but he was not about
to let her vindictiveness cause him to lose his own head. After
all, his allegiance ... if he possessed such a thing ... was
primarily to his own ... to Uncle Gaston and to Madeleine ... but
damn, he was going to fuck that breathtaking blonde beauty if it
was the last thing he ever did ... and he was going to hate
himself for doing it ... but there would be plenty of time for
remorse ... after.
He blended for himself his fourth 'nightcap'. The liquor had
charged him comfortably; he felt quite confident and secure once
again and the stirring at his loins had grown to sizable
proportions. Perhaps, if Madeleine was still awake ... He arose
quickly and went into the bedroom, but she was sleeping. He moved
close to the bed and smiled down at her lovely reposed form ...
surprised to note the two little furrows between her closed eyes
at the bridge of her nose, as if she might be perplexed or
troubled in a dream.
My God, she was beautiful and so innocent ... and he loved
her with all of his heart. He'd make it up to her, that's what he
would do. No matter what happened between Ginny and himself at
the summer place, he'd make it up to her. By God, he'd take an
oath on that right now.
I love you, Madeleine darling. I swear it; I love you!
Chapter 5
"Oh! Ooohhh! My God, please? Wa-Wait just ... a ... moment
...!" gasped the naked and ravishing Ginny Novak as the gargoylish
little czar caught hold of her waist in his deceiving, powerful
hands and bounced her up and down, his salacious, almost colorless
eyes wickedly absorbing the voluptuous sight of her full, erect
firm breasts joggling and quaking before him, while her mouth
gaped and her eyes widened blankly with the pain each time he
raised his heavy lips to drive his massive cock up into her with
evil vicious delight.
Gaston Larreau displayed a warped, gold-toothed grin. "You
surprise me, ma chere. Don't tell me that canyon you call a cunt
has contracted from lack of use." He leered at her mercilessly,
continuing to raise her up off his penetrating rod of brutal
flesh, then driving her down upon it to hear and watch her grunt
and recoil with the agony.
Desperately, the lovely blonde struggled to endure the
torment without further entreaty, knowing the uselessness of
pleading to his barbaric, animalistic nature. It was not a
punishment he was submitting her to, but a form of sadistic
pleasure he derived from sprawling naked in his huge, leather
reclining chair with his feet raised while she straddled him as
she was now, her long, white, rounded legs astride and folded
beneath her with wide-spread thighs, her crotch completely exposed
to him, the stretched open lips of her sparse, blonde, hair-
covered pussy disclosing her delicate, pink-hued inner-flesh as he
forced her to absorb his elephantine prick up into her unprepared
vagina without benefit of the least mercy.
When the last guest had left, he'd turned to her and ordered
her out of his sight. He'd seen enough of her whorish face for
one night, he'd spat, and in welcomed relief she had gone to her
room to think and dream of Antoine and their rendezvous the
following afternoon. She had no more than climbed into bed when
he'd walked naked into her room, surprising her by plopping
obscenely down in this, his favorite chair and snarling: "Come,
sow! Get over here and squat down on this prick of mine ... All
of a sudden it's acquired an itch that needs servicing, and that's
what I keep you around here for."
Of course, she hadn't hesitated even for a moment; to do that
would have meant a beating with a belt or his fists, however he
happened to feel; instead, she had jumped from the bed, stripped
away her night gown and immediately mounted him, taking his giant,
stone-hard cudgel into her hand and quickly drawing the huge,
rubbery, purple head through the sensitive, hardly moist coral-
flesh of her vulva and placing its tip at the snug, unwanting and
unprepared mouth of her vagina, catching and holding her breath in
dreaded anticipation of his first inhuman thrust that she knew was
to come. And it had ... a vicious spearing penetration of the
blunt headed shaft, expanding the tight elastic-like mouth of her
passage in an instantaneous piercing pain as he lunged his hips
upward, simultaneously forcing her by the waist down onto his
colossal instrument with bestial fury.
She had tried to contain her outcry, but that was impossible.
The insane savagery of his cruel bursting entry had sent his
impaling cock racing up into her, its swollen spongy head reaming
her tight, unready vagina, scraping at the tender, sensitive walls
and battering against her cervix painfully.
"Auuugggghhhhh!" she whimpered, little rivulets of tears
suddenly appearing on her cheeks.
Gaston Larreau sniggered sadistically. "So," he grinned,
reaching out to pinch and knead one pink, distended nipple
harshly, "it makes you so happy you cry with joy, eh?"
Ginny did not answer. She attempted a smile but that, too,
was feeble. Finally, she said: "I-I'll be all right ... in a ...
minute ..."
Larreau laughed once more. As always, he was reveling in his
subjugation of this luscious American creature whom he had won,
body and soul, at the turn of a card from a cheap Las Vegas
gambler named Ace Fennel. In a thirty-six hour straight session
he'd cleaned Fennel of his last sou, then wagered twenty thousand
dollars against the girl's ass, insisting that she strip naked and
lay flat in the center of the table as Fennel's ante, next to his
own green stacked bills. He remembered how she'd cried and
pleaded in shame and fear as he'd run his hands over her nude body
in an intimate, unnecessary, appraisal of her value while she
begged Fennel not to do this thing to her. She'd loved the hood
all right, which had served to spice the gamble to the limit, and
when it was decided that one cut of the cards, high man, would
determine the winner, and he had turned a five of spades, followed
by Fennel's anxious but confident drawing of the deuce of
diamonds, she had broken into near hysterics.
He'd taken her the first time right then, stripping and
climbing onto the table between her pretty long legs while her
dejected boyfriend turned his back and walked from the room,
ignoring her desperate, wailing pleas for help, and it'd been the
most satisfying, fulfilling fuck he'd ever had with her, for she
had fought him violently and he'd beaten and raped her a half-
dozen times, until his loins were drained dry and he'd collapsed
on top of her in an exhausted sleep. After that, she had never
been the same ... nothing but a spiritless pig who couldn't
control herself once his prick tripped her libido, a cringing
slave ready to stoop before him and perform the vilest act he
could think of at his command; completely gone was the last trace
of resistance that had made her at all worth while to him
sexually.
He was damned near through with her ... maybe entirely
through; he wasn't quite certain yet; that was going to depend on
Antoine's sweet little wife, Madeleine, along with several other
minor details ... but right at the moment he was enjoying the
erotic spectacle of Ginny Novak's pain twisted face.
Unfortunately, in a matter of minutes, she would come to enjoy it,
lessening his own pleasure ... and even as he stared up into her
contorted face, mercilessly driving his gigantic shaft up into her
yet tight passage, he saw the masochistic little sparks of initial
delight come alive to dance in her sea-green eyes ... that time
had already arrived; she was suddenly beginning to relish her
agony.
He clutched at her narrow, supple waist and thrust brutally
once more, but her anxious, wincing moments had passed. She half-
smiled a cold and hard expression, yet there was excitement
blended with it.
God, how she despised him. To her, he was the culmination of
all evil, but there was no way she could resist ... once it was
inside her ... the intoxicating thrill of his unbelievable shaft.
She had known many men in her life, from hired help on her
father's mid-western farm when she was only thirteen, to the
shifty-eyed, pasty-faced gamblers who shunned the daylight in the
gambling casinos of Las Vegas, but never had she met a male to
equal this wicked little monstrosity's sexual stamina, or massive,
satisfying organ, and even with his twisted mind and depraved
perversions, she was yet to be denied her first moment of
satisfaction with him carnally. And his fat little ugly, pudgy
hands with their deceiving strength ... they could set her afire
with their skilled, pleasureable manipulations ... drive her to
act regardless of how debasing; she was truly his slave in lust
... factually and willingly.
"All right, M'sieu' ... I'm ready now ... do whatever you
damned pleased," she hissed down at him, as if they were engaging
in some sort of contest of physical endurance.
"You pig," he spat at her in French, still he could not hold
back his grin. "Bitch!" She was indeed his counterpart;
presently, he was sorry he had to end their association.
She began to smile down at him excitedly, at the same moment
clenching her buttocks tight to her own advantage as she began to
rhythmically ride up and down his long, thick rod, and he could
feel the abrupt secretion of her lubricating fluids from the
velvety walls of her vagina bathing his cock warmly as she now
swallowed up every fraction of it with a muscularly sucking action
that pulled at the lining of his testicles. Viciously, he dug at
her pink-nippled, erect breasts, the soft resilient flesh oozing
between his fingers like rubbery putty as she worked her full,
round, white buttocks up and down furiously, her now incited cunt
endeavoring to ingest ... even devour him.
Mon Dieu. She was a human fucking machine, he mused. She
had only to be set off and she went insane. If it were a
stallion's cock it would all be the same to her ... a prick was a
prick as long as it triggered her. Even so, he'd not missed the
longing eyes she'd cast so many times in Antoine's direction; but
what in God's name would Antoine do with such a women? Suddenly,
he laughed aloud at the thought, then, he said: "You did well
keeping my nephew occupied while I discussed important business
matters with his Madeleine."
Ginny snickered openly, it seemed like her turn anyway.
"What kind of business, M'sieu'?"
Larreau sobered quickly: he didn't appreciate her obvious
meaning. "Your tongue is long enough to choke you, Ma'mo'selle.
I suggest you curb it," he snarled at her. "Talking as you do, a
girl could find herself in an awkward situation, eh?"
Ginny never lost her smile. Factually, she was in ecstasy,
and at such times little could reach and upset her. Her loins had
come alive with tiny prurient sensations caused by his massive
prick that she was forcing in and out of her vaginal passage at a
rapid, ever increasing rate. And she had serviced him long enough
now to know that he would do little until he'd spewed his hot,
white sperm up into her. She placed a kiss on the tip of her
finger, then lay that on the end of his nose.
He grinned, unable to hold it back. His colorless eyes
dropped to stare at his proud cock pushing and pulling at the
pink, ragged lips of the hair-lined pussy between her straddling
legs, the tiny coral petals of its inner lips clasping hungrily
around the glistening shaft as it disappeared deep up the
salacious clasping hole.
"You're the best," he said suddenly, not meaning to, but
unable to hold it back. "You fucking whore ... you're the best
ever!"
She laughed. "Yes, Darling, I know," she said, smiling and
squirming, writhing her round buttocks on the down-stroke.
"But you think you have me trapped, eh pig?"
"No ... no, I don't. I never wanted you trapped, M'sieu'. I
never wanted you at all. You made me what I am."
"Bitch!"
"Oui ... in French. Exactly ... in good old USofA, master."
"You are a big mouth! You talk too much and say too little,"
he snarled at her. "How would you like to join the ranks of my
swill-pigs, sow?"
"I figure that's just about my next stop ..."
"Exactly!" he exclaimed, watching as she continued the same
body action and he could see her stomach muscles contract as she
clutched with the long velvety sleeve of her snug vagina
skillfully at his prick.
"Cunt! Bitch!" he gasped. "On the floor, whore! On your
belly, damn you!"
Ginny's breath caught in her throat. Had she gone too far?
What in God's name had he conceived of now? She dare not
hesitate. Nimbly, she hopped off him and dropped onto all-fours,
her tongue-tip protruding between the two white even rows of her
small teeth.
"Down!" he snapped, and she dropped flat on her belly.
Slowly, he came out of the chair and knelt to stare
lasciviously at the warm, voluptuous body beneath him. He slid
his hand along the inner side of her soft, white thigh to the
moistened lips and thin pink slit of her pussy, tracing the hair-
line separation with a forefinger upward between the creamy hued
orbs of her firm, white buttocks, watching the round, soft moons
arch and fall in growing excitement to his touch; then, he felt
the desire in his own loins beginning to glow hotly. Mon Dieu,
the feel of her satin-like skin could still set him off ... damn,
but she was a desirable bitch!
Ginny Novak swallowed tightly. Her subservient prostrate
position, and knowing she must submit to whatever vile whim that
might titillate his warped passion, was making her brain whirl in
a growing kaleidoscope of sensual lust. She had no idea what he
was going to do to her ... or make her do to him; she only knew
that she was rapidly losing all control in her rising need. Now,
he was over her, and she squirming beneath him to the excitement
of his near magic touch, little tongues suddenly licking
salaciously at her loins and belly, building to greater and
greater heights of captivating pleasure with every passing moment
from the obscene teasing of his vile hands.
She dropped her face to the nap of the carpeting and groaned
into it stifling the licentious throaty grunts of need emitting
involuntarily from between her now tightly clenched teeth. God,
how often had she vowed that she wouldn't let her body run away
with her as it had so many, many times with him ... and now there
was less control than ever. When she lost her head like this, he
became absolutely fiendish ... Oh God, his hands ... his hands!
Her full, round buttocks hollowed and ground wantonly beneath the
caresses of his pudgy, but relentless, hands, and she knew that he
must sense the sudden urgency of tremors rippling obscenely over
her body.
She heard his rammish laugh. She couldn't see his face but
assumed he was grinning ... rubbery lipped ... wet and loose
mouthed from the sight of her near total surrender. God ... she
wanted him ... as always, she wanted him ... and as always, she
hated herself for it ... but she couldn't resist the thought of
his huge, wonderful cock slipping into her ... "Ooohhhh," she
moaned aloud as she felt his thick fingers slide up inside her
moist, tingling vagina to further taunt her.
Gaston Larreau gloatingly listened to her whine down into the
softness of the carpeting ... her voice unnatural, thick with
desire and ever growing wantonness.
"Ahhhhh," she groaned once more, twisting her passion
contorted face to the side so that he could see the effect his
teasing was having upon her, and then it occurred to him that she
was trying to anticipate his every move and he chuckled to
himself; it was of the utmost importance to his sensual
gratification that a woman be kept completely in the dark, lest
the ultimate pleasure of shock and subjugation be destroyed.
Ginny, her bottom churning incessantly beneath his hand, made
no effort to fight against the lewd, carnal urges now racing
uncontrollably through her incited body, and in her mind she had
begun to pray that he would fuck her soon, before his tormenting
hands drove her completely out of her mind. Oh God ... I want his
viciously mean, beautiful cock inside my tingling cunt. I do! I
do! I've got to have it or I'll go mad! Why doesn't he fuck me?
Please ... please ... make him fuck me now ... now!
But instead, his thick middle finger surged with relentless
force and depth into her vagina and she froze, momentarily
catching her breath, until the sensations it caused finished
skyrocketing through her.
"Oooohhhhh, do it to me ... do it, for God's sake!" she
pleaded back at him, forgetting all of her vows to resist and not
be conquered by his foul beast's lewd manipulations, trying now to
twist her neck so that she could watch his maddening hands working
back there at her crotch between her wide-spread thighs.
"Do what ma chere?" he taunted, grinning down triumphantly at
her lust-contorted face as she gaped helplessly and near glassy-
eyed back at the continual growing of his massive, rock-hard cock.
"Oh, damn you ... fuck me!" she moaned, the words tumbling
from her lips. "Fuck me animal fashion ... like a dirty bitch in
heat!"
Larreau began to laugh gleefully. "Oui, ma chere, as you say
... but remember, you requested it, eh?" He gazed evilly down at
her squirming back, a thin line of sweat beginning to form on his
upper lips. "Raise up your ass," he commanded.
She was still on her stomach and without hesitation arched
her hips higher, then felt his hands reaching for her to pull her
up onto her knees. She let him guide her and kept lifting herself
until she was entirely raised before him, high and open. She felt
the weakness and trembling in her legs and wished he would hurry,
but there was no way of making him enter into her again until he
was ready.
Finally, he moved in behind her, spreading her thighs even
wider with his knees, his heavy, pulsating cock heaving lustfully
as it pointed itself toward the crinkled pinkish ring of her tiny
anus so lusciously displayed to him from between the full rounded
spheres of her buttocks. Suddenly, he inched backwards on his
knees, then, leaned forward, probing his saliva-wet tongue upward
from the moist, hair-collared flanges of her cunt-mouth, along the
spread crevice to her small, prune-wrinkled rectum where he tried
to penetrate with its stiffened tip, but the sphincter was too
snug, and instead, he accomplished his main purpose ... to
lubricate it well. Then, he raised up sliding in close to her
once more to taunt her cunt with the violent purple head of his
peeled-fore-skinned prick, until her whimpers drifted back to him
as he ran its insinuated head between the splayed lips to gently
tease her clitoris, and she began to moan incessantly.
He probed tentatively at her with the gigantic fleshy weapon,
searching for the hot moisture of her vagina and left her buttocks
clasping at his jerking cock as he guided it with his hand down
the smooth white crevice past her anus to the eager hair-lined
opening that awaited him. He felt the organ brush across the
softness of her pubic hair and once again reach the quivering lips
of her vagina. He was playing a game. His caresses had aroused
her to the point where the flowing secretions inside her had
completely lubricated her whole genital area with a hot, slippery
wetness that made it easy for him to worm his throbbing prick into
the smooth, tight gripping flesh between her legs.
She groaned in pleasure as she felt him introduce the massive
tip into her viscous coated channel, never stopping, but
continuing a constant penetration ... Oh God ... it's so big! So
hot ...! until its entirety, was near submerged in slow,
tormenting inches into the very depths of her belly.
"Ooohhhh yes, yes! Give it all to me ... all of it!" she
choked in her passion, catching herself the several times she was
about to cry out, realizing that this devastating, constant plunge
into her entrails was what she wanted ... what she had to have.
The grotesque little czar grinned lewdly, his lips curling
wetly back to expose his golden teeth as he began to fuck into her
with long, powerful strokes ... never hurrying, but leaning back
and watching his thick, lust-hardened rod of flesh moving in and
out of her wide-stretched vagina ... watching the soft, pink flesh
gripping him, clasping his rigid prick and pulsating against him.
He sensed the muscles deep inside her passage flexing and
constricting around his mighty shaft as he fucked deeper into her.
"Uuugggnnnnhhhhh," Ginny groaned through partially clenched
teeth as the throbbing, massive cudgel rammed savagely into her.
She knew the pain ... wanted it, and couldn't contain the tears of
agonized pleasure that streamed down her cheeks. Her vaginal
passage was on fire, but experience with him had taught her that
this would gradually pass once her channel walls grew accustomed
to the giant invasion from this angle. Its huge head, it seemed,
was ripping her deepest organs ... and she wanted it so.
Suddenly, her own hand slipped between her thighs and spreading
the soft curls of her sparse pubic hair, caressed the erectiled
bud of her throbbing clitoris, caressed, stroked and taunted the
already passion-inflamed bud pulsating lasciviously down between
her open legs.
Behind her, Larreau had begun to gasp and pant heavily in his
obscene delight, and he rocked rhythmically in and out of the soft
confines of her moist, clasping cunt.
For Ginny, the pain was lessening, and the masochistic thrill
of her helpless, debased position kneeling before him rippled
through her; the ravishment of her body by this vile man who took
her at will in whatever manner that pleased him at the moment, as
a master might a slave, sent familiar waves of wicked pleasure
coursing through her entire naked being. She groaned aloud and
subconsciously began to undulate her buttocks lewdly in tiny
tempoed circles to the long thick cock fucking into her
mercilessly from behind.
"Yes ... yes ... yesssss," she moaned uncontrollably, hardly
able to believe that he had not stopped when he saw she was
enjoying it to the fullest, for this, too, was a demented torment
he reveled in, and more often than once she had been forced to
pretend her agony in order to deceive him into satisfying her.
But tonight, it all seemed different, and she realized that at any
other time this in itself would petrify her with fear, but at the
moment she was too overwhelmed in her ecstasy to even think
rationally.
Oh God ... I don't want him to ever stop ...!
On his knees, hunched behind her squirming body, Gaston
Larreau gritted his teeth wickedly as he fucked in and out with
long, hard lunges, his own heavy buttocks hollowing with every
thrust. A feeling of absolute power spiraled through him as he
held her hips down in total subjection to his stone-hard cock
skewering relentlessly into her. She was his to do with in
whatever manner he pleased and shortly he'd remind her of that ...
all in due time ... just before her climax, when she was near
ready to go out of her mind ... that's when he enjoyed it the most
... Presently, he could feel the soft, fleshy ridges inside her
giving way before the inhuman onslaught of his pistoning shaft.
He squeezed her flesh in his brutal, pudgy hands, so that it
grew up in thick ridges, small, bloodless, hillocks of her cream-
like, satiny flesh embossed on her lush, round buttocks, and when
he released them the ridges settled back slowly, leaving angry red
marks fringed with a white bloodlessness on her skin. Each time
he thrust, his fingers gripped her harder, squeezing her soft,
unresisting thighs with sadistic delight, hurting her, forcing
groans of pain from her tormented throat as she struggled
uselessly beneath his mastery of her mind and body.
He stretched the quivering white orbs of her buttocks wide
with cruel fingers, watching the pink folds of wet, glistening
flesh clinging tightly around his rampaging cock. Suddenly, he
levered forward on his knees, and with a loud grunt, drove his
plunging shaft to the very hilt; he could feel the fleshy
resistance deep inside spread before the blunt, turgid head of his
prick, raising a soft, guttural sound from the depths of her
throat, as though the breath had been driven from her. He knew
she'd been fucked this deep before because he had done so, but
each time it was as if he had entered a virginal passage, and he
would worm the head around deep inside, enlarging the depths of
her womb and feeling its clasping muscles gripping his rigid staff
like warm, slippery elastic. As always, the soft enveloping
tightness sent a tingle of pleasure surging through his balls, and
his shaft encased in the warm, clasping sheath, pulsated with lewd
and delightful sensations.
Ginny's eyes opened and closed in a lost glaze of passion.
She spread her thighs wider, sliding her knees farther apart,
thrusting her buttocks even higher back against his plunging cock.
Now, with each battering stroke she felt with obscene rapture his
sperm-bloated balls slapping against the erect, palpitating bud of
her clitoris, while the thick, curled, pubic hair around the base
of his prick brushed tantalizingly against the soft, inner edges
of her ass. She rested in such a position that her breasts were
squashed against the carpet, its rough nap erotically taunting her
taut, distended nipples. She mewled with ecstasy as she felt the
burrowing shaft behind her imbed its unbelievable full length
inside her. Its smooth, spongy head grazed the flat hardness of
her cervix, probing deep, deep where nothing or no one had ever
before reached. Long forgotten was any humiliation of bending
like a lowly serf before him while he fucked into her from behind
exuding his lust into her hungry, open crotch. As ever, only the
lewd pleasure surging through her like myriad tongues of fire was
all that mattered. She wanted to be fucked like this, had to be
subjected to every lewd demand he could think of to satisfy her
lust-wracked body that he had so trained in the vilest of
debaucheries.
"So, ma chere, it brings you pleasure, eh?" Larreau hissed at
her, sensing the wild pressure beginning to build in his balls.
"Oh yes ... God, yes ... Don't stop! Fuck it hard and deep!
Hard and deep!"
With that, the little czar sadistically withdrew the hardened
shaft, while Ginny in sudden frustrated dismay began to waggle and
force her bottom back at him desperately, her wet, quivering pussy
searching wildly for the pleasure-giving instrument that had
escaped it. She whimpered and moaned frantically as behind her,
Larreau raised the mighty weapon until its unseeing eye leveled
with her hairless, puckered anus that glistened beneath its thin
film of viscid fluid coating her entire loins and genitals. He
might have better prepared it by stretching it with his fingers,
he thought lustfully, but the pleasures derived were better
unannounced.
He doubted in her sudden flustered state that she realized he
was penetrating her asshole at first try, without benefit of any
preliminaries. And then, she must have felt its thick bluntness
prodding and working against her tightly clenched anus. Oddly
enough, in all of the many ways he had taken her, he had never
before sodomized her, and now he realized why; he'd been saving
this for the one grand finale, the final degradation before he
finished with her for good ... and now, it was time. He chuckled
lewdly to himself. She would have to decide it was much too big;
she would judge that with certainty. He continued to grin to
himself as he wormed the tip of it into the snugly resisting
little aperture. He could feel the foreskin being stretched back
against his long, thick cock painfully, and he gave a quick hip-
thrusting stab until he could feel it slowly slipping its way into
her rectum. She would say to herself, it was all right ... all
right, because she dare say nothing else ... and then, he was well
beyond the barrier of the clutching elastic ring of the sphincter
muscle.
Ginny forced herself to think: it's all right ... it's all
right, as his vicious rod ground its way deep and deeper into her
nether channel ... and then, suddenly, without warning, she felt
as if a railroad tie was endeavoring to burst into her body
through her virginal anal passage! She tried to pull away, but he
held her fast as the impossible, agonizing penetration continued.
"Aaaauuuuuggggghhhhhh! Dear God Almighty! Noooo, nooooo ...
stop! It hurts terribly!" she cried.
Larreau grinned excitedly. Of course, it hurt, stupid pig!
It was supposed to hurt. He held her in a bear-hug and simply
rammed and thrust.
"God ... I beg you don't ... please? It's too big! It's
going to kill me!" Ginny screamed back at him through her gnashing
teeth.
But it was there and there it remained, ever moving into her
back passage and she couldn't escape it. His thighs thrust hers
forwards; his arms held her hips back to his.
Dear Jesus, I'm helpless! I can't move! It's paralyzing me!
I can't move!
"Shove back!" Larreau commanded. "Damn you, sow ... push
back, I say!"
She could barely think in her unbelievable agony, but she
knew she must obey his words, lest further torture be heaped upon
her. Every way was pain, pain, pain! But she did it ... she
pushed back and somehow opened her ass that final measure through
deliberate effort born of fear. She visualized the trunk of a
tree unrelentingly being pressed into her tiny nether hole,
stretching her buttocks wider and wider apart until she knew she
would split open. And then, it was done, his vicious cock
completely buried right up into her rectum, solid and extremely
painful, but finally better because at last it was inside her in
its entirety ... there was no more to take.
"Ohhh ... ooohhhh ... ooohhhh," she gasped. She was impaled
on his long, fleshy rod thrust into her rectum to the hilt, unable
to move from the excruciating pain that was endeavoring to split
her thighs horribly apart. Dear God, now he had subjected her to
the lowest and most brutally painful of defilements ... he was
sodomizing her! Once more she gasped, but this time for breath as
momentarily he remained immobile, perhaps allowing the obscenely
stretched channel of her rectum to become adjusted to his new
invasion inside it ... this rigid and ever-growing spear of flesh
that packed her full! Oh, the filthy beast! God curse him. Dear
Christ, could she stand it ...? Or would she faint ...?
Then all thought was whipped away as she heard him croon with
delight and gasp as he began to saw rhythmically and without the
slightest mercy deep up into the soft confines of her back
passage.
Larreau couldn't contain the groans of delight escaping him
as he felt the warm soft flesh of her flattened, full buttocks
pressing tightly against his loins. He thrust forward into the
tightly puckered and now obscenely stretched mouth of her passage,
simultaneously sliding his hand down underneath and between her
thighs to her opened cuntal slit, feeling the moisture from the
smooth, fleshy lips seeping salaciously out to cover the softness
of her pubic hair brushing teasingly against his testicles as they
swung down between her legs. His eyes locked on the hardened
shaft disappearing completely into the tight, wide-stretched oval
opening between the twin white mounds of her helplessly quivering
buttocks. He moaned again and drew it out slightly, watching with
bated breath the tender pink flesh pulling out with it and then
disappearing back inside with his inward thrust. His breathing
increased, incited by the lewd lascivious spectacle, until once
more he began plunging into her in a tempoed cadence, in and out,
in and out, deep up into the warm clasping channel of her rectum.
Ginny dug her nails into her palms, bit at her lower lip, and
was surprised when the pain eased a bit, but even more so when a
certain thread of arousal seemed to weave through her pain-wracked
body ... although it was still a mixture of hurtful discomfort and
stimulation. She felt saturatingly wet between her buttocks and
more debased than from anything he had ever subjected her to. Of
course, it was significant, this depraved perversion he was
inflicting upon her, but she couldn't fathom to what degree ... or
was it because she was refusing to face the truth ... he was
finished with her ... breaking and destroying any last vestige
toward decency she might still possess before putting her onto the
street with the rest of his cochons ... God, if she could only
think straight, but each time she tried to concentrate he
shattered the thought by a skin-splitting thrust that jolted her
forward ... until suddenly she realized that her body was
voluntarily squirming back against his every ramming plunge ...
squirming back onto his fleshy stem that was meting out the
punishment. Abruptly, she was aware of a certain masochistic
pleasure. The pain had become weirdly erotic, and she was heaving
backwards to meet the forward charge of his loins ... undulating
her body and moving her buttocks in tiny, lewd circles. In fact,
she'd begun to feel quite excited through the pain ... wanting his
massive cock buried deeper and harder up into the channel of her
ass, and she found herself reaching back beneath her thighs to
scratch gently at his swinging balls, all of a sudden, turning her
face sideways again just so he could see the new effect his
sodomizing prick was having on her.
Kneeling above and behind her, Larreau continued to watch the
reddish inflamed skin of the little round hole draw back with his
cock, clutching it as if it didn't want it ever to come out. At
first, the pressure on his shaft had been almost too much to bear,
but now it was just tight and exhilarating, the type of squeezing
pressure that promised to draw the sperm right out of his balls
with the ferocity of spewing molten metal at every stroke.
He stared at his white, vicious pole disappearing right up
her satin-smooth, gyrating ass with each lunge. It submerged
until not even a fraction of it was left unabsorbed, straining
wildly in that snug, resistant channel, its spongy, turgid, lust-
inflated head probing deep into her soft, quivering belly.
"Oooohhh, Oooohhhhh," Ginny groaned as his pelvis slapped
against the soft, resilient flesh of her twin white buttocks. The
rampaging cudgel was the length of a ball-bat ... and sunk to his
balls in her numbed and weirdly tingling asshole. Dear Jesus, she
was completely and helplessly impierced.
Larreau's balls throbbed and his cock cavorted as if it were
about to burst each time he plunged into her; she was moaning and
adding to his pressure with the movements of her ass and the
hollowing of her back. He gaped at her passion-twisted profile as
his lips bared back from his teeth. Her face was flushed a bright
red, her head flailing from side to side and her long blonde hair
strewn down over her sweating forehead like an insane woman ...
and she was gasping for more. Damn her! He'd never meant for her
to enjoy it. The filthy, pig, bitch! Christ, how he wanted to
cause her unbelievable agony! Goddamn her! He swore aloud and
gouged his cock with a ramming thrust into her ass, leaving it
there, listening to her whine as he brutally ground his pelvis in
expanding circles, routing the already inflamed inner flesh of her
passage with fiendishly cruel delight. "Ohhh ... Ooohhhh, yes ...
yes," she whimpered to his dismay. "Fuck it, fuck it, damn you!
Do anything you want to it! I love it ... do you hear me? God, I
love it!"
Larreau was suddenly losing his own sense of balance in his
near fanatical attempt to increase her agony and desperately he
tried to think of something yet more vicious he could inflict upon
her to bring about his insanely mounting climax. Christ, he had
to cum, else he'd go out of his goddamned head! He had never
meant that she would enjoy it ... want it! The bitch! The dirty
slut-bitch! Suddenly, he began to slap with brutal, alternating
hands at the generous, wide-spread white mounds of her ass,
crashing swats that echoed and re-echoed throughout the room.
"Wiggle it, you stinking cochon! Keep it moving and fuck me
back, damn you, or I'll cut your heart out!" he screamed at her,
his powerful opened little hands flailing in rhythmic, wild blows
against the soft satiny flesh of her already angry-red ass cheeks.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Ginny cried and winced with every
painful smack against her sensitive buttocks, a violent shudder
rippling through her at this new demonical abasement. And even as
he continued, she felt him withdraw his prick to the glans, then
thrust it forward barbarically until his balls slapped with loaded
heaviness against the flowered slit of her cunt in one long,
racing stroke ... and the combined sensations were forcing her
into an unbelievable state of rapture.
"Go on, you monster! Fuck it! Beat me! Ram me! Any damned
thing you want! I love it ... you hear? Love it! Squirt your
filthy cum in my ass! I want you to! I want you to!" she
screamed back at him breathlessly.
Larreau's cock tingled as if charged with electric current;
his balls were alive with fire. He'd tried to inflict unbearable
pain upon her but she had accepted it and was asking for more! He
couldn't believe it! And ... and ... and then, he realized that
he was going to cum! He was going to shoot a torrent of sperm
into her lovely white American ass ... the ultimate subjugation
... except that she wanted it ... she wanted it! Damn her! But
he'd never had a woman like her ...! Christ, she was all that
he'd ever wanted ... wasn't she ...?
His brain was a turmoil. Her sudden obscene response to his
cruel beating and sodomy had suddenly inspired him like an infused
satyr. He reached down and pulled her ass-cheeks wide apart,
commencing to batter his pelvis against her soft, yielding,
reddened buttocks with inhuman whaps that bounced off his own ear-
drums. Perspiration from his sweating face dripped onto her
lovely hollowing back to make it glisten in the light. His
breathing came in short, puffing gasps, his eyes locked on the
whiteness of her quivering body that was slipping back over his
plunging cock with the snug delight of a fitted velvet glove. Mon
Dieu, he was losing all control over the situation, even as his
great shaft was growing unbelievingly. His sac hung heavy with
its bloated reservoir of sperm, and it had to be emptied soon or
he'd burst from the excruciatingly delicious pressure.
Ginny had reached the point where she was mumbling
unintelligibly beneath his pounding hips. She waived her ass
salaciously back against his unrelenting thrusts. She wanted him
to cum. She wanted him to squirt his heavy load of semen right
into her bowels. She wanted him to split her crotch wide open and
spill his sperm into her until she was completely immersed in its
delicious loveliness. She could feel a sopping wetness in the
crevice of her ass and any thought of pain had long since left her
... as had all other thoughts except that of his magnificent cock
battering her asshole. She dropped her shoulders to the floor so
that her near-glowing-red buttocks were raised even higher in the
air, and the ape-like, frenzied cudgel could fuck into her
completely unhindered.
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! It's time!" Larreau choked, tossing
back his head and grunting savagely as he thrust his cock's full
expanded length into her forever-stretched asshole, his ugly,
squat body beginning to jerk convulsively, his mouth falling open
slackly and he clawed at her waist and hips with harsh, clutching
fingers, pulling her buttocks even wider apart for his prick to
wedge yet another fraction of an inch into her.
"Fuck back! Fuck back!" he commanded her.
Ginny, beneath his pounding assault, felt the first exquisite
gushes of his hot, white cum splutter into the remote depths of
her rectum. It surged through her body with the torrential force
of a bursting dam, burning into her heaving belly like seething
liquid fire. The delicious sensation tripped her own climax and
she screamed as the great maelstrom of pleasure overwhelmed her
... until at last, she sensed rivulets of his hot, sticky sperm
running down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks to the slit of
her open, throbbing cunt ... and then he was withdrawing his
deflated member inside her ... and a welcomed cool rush of air
brushed and soothed the unplugged, inflamed hole of her anus as
she collapsed forward onto the floor, her breasts heaving
spasmodically against the rough nap of the carpet.
She lay, her face turned away from him, reality slowly
enveloping her once more as she heard him struggling to his feet,
his breathing coming heavily.
For a long moment, Gaston Larreau stared down at her
obscenely spread body, a blank expression on his ugly, round face,
and then slowly an evil little smile twisted at his rubbery lips.
He walked to her vanity and picked up a long handled hair-brush,
then returned to bend silently over her, and before she realized
what was happening he thrust the blunt-ended handle to the hilt
into her already tormented and enchafed rectum.
Ginny screamed with the shock of the vicious and torturing
empalement as the little czar, roaring with laughter, joggled
toward the door. There, he paused and turned to see her
struggling to her knees and reaching behind her to clutch at the
protruding end of the brush jutting out of her asshole. Once
more, he laughed gleefully.
"Why don't you just leave it in there, pig ... you look
natural with a tail," he spat.
"Goddamn you! You filthy bastard!" Ginny screamed, jerking
the implanted brush from her bottom and throwing it at him as he
closed the door behind him, the instrument smashing against it
harmlessly.
He was gone then, but she could still hear his laughter as he
walked down the hall and she threw herself forward onto the floor,
sobbing in near hysterics.
God Almighty! What's ever to become of me?
Chapter 6
Rafael Girarde was a handsome man by any measure of standard.
He was tall, broad shoul-dered and lean hipped, wore his well-cut,
tailored clothes with a flair, smiled broadly with an open, warm
expression, his discerning blue eyes spar-kling sincerely, his deep
masculine, resonant voice inspiring confidence. Madeleine was
particularly taken with his heavy shock of waved, greying hair,
the one single tell-tale of his fifty odd years.
She was surprised at his simple, lackluster office, knowing
his successful business capacity as an importer and owner of night
clubs through-out the city, as well as holding a post as Ministre
Of Gouvernment, say nothing of his luxurious home in Mont Royal
that she had only seen, of course, from the street. But in all,
she was most impressed by the way he made her feel, even after she
had told him who she was and why she was there ...
"Please, my dear, won't you sit down and be comfortable?" he
had offered coming from behind his cluttered desk to place his
hand on a chair in a gestured invitation.
Madeleine went to it and seated herself while M. Girarde
returned to his place behind the desk. She felt extremely tense
and had already begun to question whether she had done the right
thing by exposing herself this way ... but she'd not rushed into
it blindly, without considering Antoine's position. Earlier, she
had desperately tried to lead into the subject with her husband,
prepared to cleanse her conscience once and for all and beg him to
help her recover her child, but his indifferent and preoccupied
attitude had finally caused her to give up the idea. Instead, she
had struggled through coffee with him, kissing him at the door as
she handed him his briefcase, then hurriedly dressed, knowing
exactly what she was going to do. Whether Antoine had suspected
something was amiss she wasn't certain, nor hardly cared any
longer, but certainly their conversation had been strained and
he'd acted terrible edgy ...
"Well now ..." M. Girarde was saying with a pleasant smile,
"... you have already brightened my day to no end, Madame Poirier
... for at last, I understand why Igat is such a beautiful child
... her mother is a ravishing beauty."
Madeleine blushed immediately; she dropped her eyes in
sincere, if, gentle embarrassment. "You're most kind, M'sieu',
but I must admit that I don't feel very ravishing ... coming to
you with my sordid story this way ..."
"Ah, ma chere, but you mustn't degrade yourself over an
unfortunate affaire d'amour," said M. Girarde suavely. "How is it
they say ...? It is better to have loved and lost than never to
..."
"That was not the situation at all, M'sieu'," Madeleine
interrupted quickly. "I assure you, it was not ..."
Rafael Girarde shrugged his broad shoulders. "So ... what
difference," he said, his warm smile always prevalent. He leaned
back in his chair, joining his hands at fingertips. "How can I
help you, ma chere?"
Madeleine bit nervously at her lower lip, the ridiculousness
of her proposed request suddenly dawning on her. To entertain
even the remotest idea that these people would give up her baby
after all this time had been insane ... unreasonable ... for
weren't they more parents to her than she had ever been? In fact,
they were the only parents Igat had ever known ...! Yet, she
hadn't thought of it that way at all ... and now, faced with her
own irrational decision, she hardly knew what to do next.
"Well, Madame ...?" Girarde prodded gently.
"I-I don't know what to say, M'sieu'," she stammered.
Suddenly, she reached into her purse and found a small hanky to
dab at her nose as her dark eyes began to glisten behind her
tears. "It's ... it's my baby ... I miss her so ... want her so
... Oh God, M'sieu' Girarde, what can I do ..? I-I think I'll
lose my mind if I don't get her back ..."
Rafael Girarde barely moved; he studied this voluptuous girl
who had given birth to the child both he and his wife had come to
think of as their very own, the child they had purchased from a
drunken doctor without benefit of legal documents because his
barren wife's past narcotic history was a matter of record, and
enough to destroy any possibility of proper adoption. It'd had
been little Igat's entry into their family that had made the
Madame's recovery from her addiction possible, not that he really
cared a tinker's damn for the Madame, but he did have a certain
position to maintain as a Ministre Of Gouvernment, along with his
other enterprises, and having a dope fiend for a wife did little
toward enhancing that position. Now, as his keen eyes absorbed
the breathtaking loveliness of the desirable young woman seated
before him, his brain subconsciously registered the threat of her
presence, even as another section of his mind began to plot
lecherously.
"Can you believe, ma chere, that I can understand and
sympathize with you?" Rafael Girarde said in gentle tones. "They
say there is no bond stronger in this world than mother-love ...
but then, being a mother is more than just giving birth, is it not
...?"
"Please," Madeleine interrupted. "I-I realize I have no
right coming to you like this, M'sieu' ... but ... but my God ...
she is my baby, don't you see ...?"
At that moment, she broke down completely and Girarde made no
motion toward consoling her. The interlude gave him time to think
as well as an opportunity to ogle her sensuously inspiring
curvaceous body, while simultaneously he sensed a carnal stirring
at his loins. He smiled to himself, a barely perceptible little
gesture, while she wiped at her nose in an effort to regain her
composure. Finally, he stood and went to a small cabinet to bring
out glasses and a half-filled bottle of cognac. He poured lightly
and approached her, a glass in either hand.
"Drink this, ma chere, I believe it will help."
Hesitantly Madeleine accepted it and sipped.
God knows, she needed some sort of bracer at the moment.
She'd been a fool for coming here this way ... completely
stripping herself of pride ... and worst of all, now she had
exposed herself ... to say nothing of what it might do to Antoine
if he were to find out of her past through someone else ... Dear
God, she'd had to do something ... anything rather than keep her
tentative clandestine meeting with Uncle Gaston ... And then, the
thought of him pawing her with his fat, sweaty hands as he had the
night before, his wicked fingers inserted right up inside her
vaginal passage between her legs, almost nauseated her. Today, it
would be worse ... today, it would be everything, all the way;
he'd have no mercy ...
"Of course, Madame Poirier, you must understand that we ...
Madame Girarde and myself, regard Igat as our very own," he said,
never losing his gentleness of voice. "I'm certain you do
appreciate this ...?"
"Yes ... yes, I do appreciate it, M'sieu' and I know all that
you've done for her," Madeleine acknowledged. "Oh ... I know I
have no right to even hope ... but she's my baby ... if ... if I
could just see her once in awhile, perhaps for a very little time
each week ...?"
Girarde pursed his lips, his brow furrowing, as if he were
not too pleased with the idea. He said. "I'm not certain that
Madame Girarde would approve of you seeing her at all, ma chere
..."
"Could she be that cruel?" Madeleine put to him sharply.
"Ah oui, she could and undoubtedly would," replied Girarde,
finishing his cognac. "My wife is not what you would call a
considerate woman, however ..." He sat his glass on his desk and
approached her with outstretched hands.
Madeleine sensed a quickening of her pulse at the expressive
movement and as she fixed her eyes on his still beckoning hands,
she set down her glass and slowly arose, feeling that he was
bringing the interview to an end. He caught her hands in his and
held to them warmly as she raised her eyes to lock with his own,
both surprise and mild trepidation rippling over her.
"You ... you said, however ...?" Madeleine repeated.
Girarde nodded, smiling handsomely. "I was going to say that
something might be arranged ... between you and me ... excluding
Madame Girarde ... perhaps some private little tete-a-tetes once a
week ... quiet and ah ... shall we say, intimate, ma chere?"
Madeleine stared up into his face, her eyes widening in
shocked disbelief as the full impact of his meaning struck her
immediately. "M'sieu', my God ... what are you saying ...?"
"Ah, come now, Cheri," he said softly, continuing to smile as
he moved closer to her, his hands gently slipping to her narrow
waist. "Certainly nothing wrong with us enjoying a ... say, a
dinner one evening, eh? Where we might discuss arrangements more
in detail ...?"
"A-Arrangements ...?" Madeleine repeated, her face flushing
as the rage began to mount inside her. "M'sieu' ... you will
please remove your hands from me at once. Wh-What do you take me
for, anyway?"
Rafael Girarde chuckled lewdly and Madeleine detected the
lascivious gleam in his eyes. "Let's not play cat and mouse, ma
chere, I believe you've already established the answer to what you
are ... my only concern is the extent of your price, eh?"
The brunt of his words was like a blow across her cheek; she
actually staggered backward from it, even as he clutched at her
waist.
"Damn you!" she hissed. "Goddamn you! You dare speak to me
this way? Put your hands on me ...? My husband will kill you for
this insult! I swear ...!"
Girarde continued to chuckle, as if she hadn't spoken a word.
Finally, and calmly, he said: "Madame, I have a strange feeling
that your husband would be more apt to kill you ... if he knew the
truth ... if he knew the truth ... eh? Now, isn't that just a
little bit closer to the facts? The so-called nephew of our
country's infamous crime czar has no idea that his pretty little
wife is the mother of an illegitimate child ... or wouldn't you
care to answer that?"
Madeleine could do nothing, it seemed, but stare blankly at
him. She had totally misjudged him, and by so doing, had
compromised herself dangerously. For one brief moment, her legs
nearly wilted beneath her ... and then came the resurgence of
anger and rage that caused her to flail out at him wildly with
clawing hands as the tears gushed down her cheeks.
"You bastard!" she screamed, "You dirty rotten bastard!"
The sudden ferocity of her attack sent the handsome Ministre
floundering backward and sputtering obscenities of his own, his
retreat giving Madeleine the necessary time to break for the door,
and before he could stop her, she was beyond it, racing through
his office in a state of sobbing, emotional frenzy, to which M.
Girarde's matronly secretary leaped to her feet to stare after
her, then slowly turned to her employer with gaping, questioning
eyes.
"Mon Dieu, M'sieu'! What is wrong with her ... she was
almost hysterical ...?"
"Ohhh ... shut up and ... get back to work, eh?" M. Girarde
spat at her, going back into his office and slamming the door
behind him.
Chapter 7
Shortly, it began to rain and Madeleine walked aimlessly in
it. She had taken a cab to M. Girarde's office rather than to
drive and have to search out a parking place in downtown traffic,
and now in the aftermath of the degrading incident the Ministre Of
Gouvernment had subjected her to, she found herself wandering
erratically along hardly familiar streets, the summer downpour
nearly soaking her.
Dear God, in all of her young life she had never felt so
despondent ... so all alone as she did at that very moment. Where
could she turn? She had no one ... absolutely no one. There was
no way she could approach Antoine, or unburden her soul to him,
and subconsciously she had been aware of this all along, which was
undoubtedly the reason she had not done so already; he would never
understand ... never forgive her. She realized this to be a
certainty, now, for the first time. And M. Girarde, whom she had
misjudged entirely, he, too, was a vile beast, without the
slightest touch of compassion in his heart, God, she was destitute
for sympathy or a helping hand, and she must see her baby ... she
must, or lose her mind altogether!
So ... there remained but one course ... Uncle Gaston. Dear
God! Could she do it? She remembered the little ogre's words:
"You be 'nice' to me and I'll get your kid back for you ... make
Antoine accept it ... Girarde is a nothing ... a Ministre Of
Gouvernment, but a nothing. I'll get the child. I swear it ...
if you're 'nice' to me ..."
Oh God ... have mercy on me, she thought as she felt the
warmth of her tears even in the midst of the rain drops brushing
down her cheeks, and then, she raised her arm at the oncoming cab
and signaled it over to the curb.
* * *
"So, you finally decided to come," Gaston Larreau smirked
broadly at his adopted nephew's wife standing in the doorway of
his elegant, if, compact little downtown hideaway. "Took a bit of
time for you to make up your mind, eh?" He chuckled, a certain
licentious note prevalent in the sound. "Well ...? Don't stand
there, come inside. You look like a half drowned rat. What the
hell've you been doing, crawling in the gutter?"
With downward cast eyes, Madeleine entered and felt a cold
little chill ripple along her spine as he closed the door behind
her and locked it securely. But she didn't look at him; she
couldn't as yet. Again she heard him snigger deep in his throat.
"You better get those clothes off," he said matter-of-factly.
"You must be soaked to that pretty soft skin of yours. Wouldn't
want you catching a cold on my account, eh? Antoine would never
forgive me." This time, he laughed loudly.
She stood with her back to him, yet to speak her first word
since he'd answered her ring, and now he walked up to her,
slipping one arm around her waist affectionately, then letting his
hand slide down over the full round line of her hip and back to
smooth over her buttocks as he bent forward to peek up into her
face. She felt her flesh cringe and grow taut to his touch
beneath the clinging wet garments, and she steeled herself to keep
from bolting and screaming.
"Ah, chere, I see you've taken a more sensible outlook on
things today," he said, leering up at her. "Not quite to my
expectations ... but passable, temporarily. Now ... why don't you
run into the bedroom and undress so that we can get these clothes
dry. You'll find a choice of feminine wear to your liking ... but
don't overdue it, ma chere, eh? After all, you won't be needing
it long." He laughed. "Now, go ahead while I mix us a drink ..."
"U-Uncle Gaston ... please ... I-I ..." Madeleine started,
hesitantly, the fear and shame distorting her lovely face
obviously even to him.
He surprised her then by taking her firm, pointed chin
delicately in his pudgy hand and raising it. "Look, Cheri, don't
be afraid. I'll protect you ... and I'll get your baby for you,
just as I promised last night, but ... but you must be good to
me," he said, moving in close to her, both arms encircling her
while his hands cupped familiarly the full round orbs of her lush
buttocks. Playfully, he squeezed, massaged and joggled them in
his fat little hands, while a degrading sensation of
incestuousness raced through her; then, he drew her tight to him,
pressing his massive belly against her own flat one, his heavy
thighs crowding hers, and the hardness of his obviously jerking
member grinding into her pelvis. At equal height, his lips sought
hers hungrily, and closing her eyes to shut out the sight, she
suddenly felt his wet, open mouth ravenously suck in her soft
lips, while his thick tongue brushed over them, then crashed
brutally between them into her mouth and throat.
Madeleine didn't fight him; instead, just as she had closed
her eyes to the sight of him, she now closed her mind to his
actual existence and the despicable, nauseating things he was
doing to her. One thought, and one thought alone filled her
repulsive mind ... Igat ... her own little Igat ...!
Dear God, forgive me ... forgive me ...
"Please ...?" she managed at last, gently pushing back from
him. "L-Let me get these ... these wet things off ..."
He backed away, smiling crookedly, displaying his gold teeth.
"Oui, oui, but hurry, chere, I think it's about ready to burst a
blood vessel, eh?" He laughed obscenely and watched her walk
quickly into the bedroom, closing the door. He called after her:
"I'll mix us a drink ..."
Madeleine lay back against the closed door, her hand
immediately going to cover her face as a sob burst from her
throat. Her mind suddenly raced backward in time to a similar
horror in her life in a shabby little motel at Riviere du Loup and
a chilling sliminess crept over her, causing her whole body to
tremble repugnantly. Mother of God! She couldn't go through with
it! She just couldn't ...! There was no way ...! Yet, even as
her tormented mind churned in painful turmoil, she was unzipping
her dress from behind and stepping out of it ... choking back
little convulsive gasps as she lifted her slip over her head ...
whimpering to herself while simultaneously she stepped out of her
shoes, then, rolled her pantyhose down over her lush round hips
and buttocks, finally lowering herself to the bed where she could
more easily slide them along the long white columns of her legs
... and the tears continued to dribble in fine rivulets down her
lovely cheeks. She stood, then, and reaching behind with both
hands, unhooked her bra to let it slip away and reveal her
trembling, full, erect breasts, while a cool rush of air brushed
over them causing their tiny nipples to tauten of their own
volition. She emitted one last little sob as she stared at the
reflection of her soft, naked, voluptuousness in the full-length
wall-mirror, realizing suddenly that her natural instinct had been
the superior force dominating and guiding her hands ... that all
other self protecting emotions were subservient to this most
natural of inborn proclivities ... and abruptly she raised her
chin in a gesture of defiance, her deep dark eyes leaping to life
with a sparkling glint of determination ... She could and would do
anything to get her Igat back! Nothing or no one else mattered
... especially herself! Yes, she could and she would ...!
The door opened suddenly and Uncle Gaston entered, drinks in
his hands, only to stop short as he gaped in breathtaken
dazzlement at the magnificent splendor of her unexpected nakedness
before him.
Madeleine, hardly use to even the thought of her determined,
if, artificial sang-froid, fell backward a step with the shock,
grabbing up her sheer slip to hold it protectively in front of her
beneath her chin.
"Jesus Christ!" Uncle Gaston gasped. His mouth hung open as
if hinged, his little colorless eyes beading excitedly as they
fell to the almost completely exposed delightful extremities of
her rounded soft white thighs and tapering calves below the short
silken garment she held raised protectively. "Y-You're beautiful,
Cheri ... Goddamn ...! Beautiful ...!"
Madeleine couldn't speak; she stared at him in immediate
wild-eyed confusion, the first waves of shame and fear taking
precedent over all else, and then, as he slowly began to move
toward her, she automatically retreated ... forgetting that only
the bed lay strategically behind her.
The drinks in his hands forgotten, Larreau set them on a
table, never taking his hungry, lecherous eyes from her.
Spontaneously, his thick tongue darted out to lick at his dry,
rubbery lips as he continued to close slowly in on her.
In near terror now, Madeleine's eyes screamed her fright at
him while her brain raced in wild chaos as she backed ever closer
to the bed, her head beginning to wag negatively, causing her
still damp, long raven tresses to brush about her shoulders in
mild frenzy. At last, a word formed on her lips and she blurted
it out: "N-No ...! No ...! No ...!"
Larreau was already breathing heavily while his eyes devoured
the outlined contours behind the clinging, almost gossamery slip
she held in front of her, a flickering sight of black, silken,
pubic hair at the joined apex between her thighs briefly catching
his eye her every backward step. Again, he ran his tongue over
his lips.
"Be nice," he hissed, "That's all, Cheri ... just be nice ...
like we agreed, eh ...? Everything'll be all right ... I swear it
will ... Maybe ... maybe, you'll even like it if you give yourself
a chance ... I'll be gentle ... and ... and you be nice ... okay
...?"
"Oh ... Oh God! U-Uncle Gaston ... God Almighty, I can't
...! Oh please, I just can't ...!" She let out a scream of
surprise then, the edge of the bed catching her behind the knees
and she fell backward, her legs spreading apart as she lost her
balance, the delectable sight of the tight pink slit in her
sparse, hair-lined loins sending a licentious charge of lust
jolting through him and quickly he forced his knees between her
scissored thighs, clutching at them so that she could not slither
or roll away from him while he knelt upright above her.
Madeleine let off a choking gasp and clung insanely to the
slip that covered her breasts and stomach, entirely unaware that
her crotch was completely exposed to him, and she continued to
toss her head wildly in her fear and shame as abruptly, she
realized the hopelessly entrapped position she was in.
"Oh God, stop! Stop it this minute!" she cried, futilely
attempting to squirm from beneath him. "You can't ...! I won't
let you! Mother of God, think of Antoine, Uncle Gaston ...!"
"And you think of your kid!" he shot at her.
"I know ... I know ... but there must be some other way ..."
"There's no other goddamned way!" he spat viciously. "I'm
going to fuck you, damn your luscious young ass! I'm going to
bury my cock in that tight little pussy hole of yours if it's the
last thing I ever do, you hear me?"
Madeleine froze beneath him. Her mouth fell open loosely,
her eyes glazing behind the blur of her tears as the horrid filth
he had spewed caused a wave of loathing horror to surge through
her. And then, she felt his fat, sweaty little hand with
unbelievable tenderness sliding along the white, satiny smooth
flesh of her inner-thigh, and she cringed to its touch as it moved
ever upward toward the dark fringed juncture where it brushed and
pressed skillfully against the fleshy hair-lined lips of her
sensitive vagina, causing an uncontrollable little moan to escape
her.
"Ohhhhh, no, Uncle Gaston ... no, no ... it's wrong ... so
wrong ..." she whimpered vainly.
Larreau ignored her pleas, hardly hearing her as with his
other hand he gently tugged the covering of her slip from her
reluctant grasp, his breath catching in his throat at the
enthralling spectacle of her round, full breasts standing proud
and firmly erect, their small ruby-like nipples distending from
the unwanted manipulations of his hand between her thighs.
"There now, Cheri, that's better," he said, bending down for
a closer look at the thin, pink, hairline split running the length
of her open crotch through the ovaled milk-white spheres of her
buttocks pressed tightly to the mattress. He sucked in his breath
at the unbelievable sight before him, her little agonized moan of
degradation falling on deaf ears. He'd fucked and raped many
luscious young creatures, but never anything like this; never
anyone so tender, so lovely, so proud. The mere thought of her
helpless, involuntary moans of pleasure tumbling from those soft
red lips taunted his prick into a stone hardness. He could feel
the blood pounding almost painfully into its massive, expanded
head; he felt the small thick drops of seminal fluid already
seeping from the sensitive glans at its tip, smearing wetly
against his thigh. Christ, his own nephew's wife! Just the
incestuous thought was inspiring a form of sadistic delight such
as he'd never known before, initiating an actual ache in his cock
... until he was forced to open the fly of his trousers to ease
the pain. Then, using thumbs pressed to either side of her
fleshy, hair-shadowed cunt-lips, he tenderly spread the vertical
aperture until its moist, pink loveliness flowered open to him,
and his mouth fell agape at its sparkling jewel-like majesty. He
felt her warm, soft, inner-thighs quiver uncontrollably to the
backs of his hands and heard her breath hitch deep down in her
gasping throat, followed by a half-choking moan.
Madeleine, her shame and degradation even greater with the
sudden realization that his depraved manipulations at her
sensitive genitals were causing incredulous prurient sensations to
tingle unwantedly through her, moaned aloud in emotional agony and
an unbelievable growing sensual desire; tiny electric-like shocks
began to ripple along the satiny flesh of her legs, and she again
squirmed her buttocks down into the softness of the bed, her moan
dissolving into a near helpless whimper as his fingers taunted the
moist slit of her tender vagina.
Oh God, no ... no! It's wrong ... wrong! I can't let him do
these things to me ... Dear God! Please ... no ... nooooo ...
Expertly, Larreau leaned even closer into her delightful
naked loins, and with the tip of his tongue opened the soft and
delicate inner petals enshrining her clitoris. He felt the erotic
shock of his oral touch surge through her convulsively.
"Oooohhhh, Mother of God! What are you doing?" Madeleine
gasped, jerking her head erect to stare down with gaping eyes
between her proud, rotund breasts at his lowered, balding head
buried in her crotch. Then, his colorless little eyes were
looking up over the sparsely silken, hair-covered mound and
smiling at her sadistically. "Ooohhh, Mon Dieu!" she gasped and
twitched as his hot, moist lips closed over the soft mound there
at the base of her belly in plain sight. Then, once more, his
entire face disappeared from her view into the soft fleece between
the thighs he was raising upward and pressing back toward her
breasts while he planted wet, taunting kisses on the closed thin
furrow, his tongue flicking lizard-like at the now quivering
opening.
Madeleine gasped with a breathless, almost hissing sound
beneath his tantalizing abuse, her elbows pressed tightly against
her ribs and her head rolling from side to side in utter
desperation as suddenly, his hot searing tongue shot out, its soft
flicking tip circling her pulsing erected clitoris.
Oh Dear God!
The lips sucked, drawing the warm, soft folds deep into the
cavern of his gently biting mouth, while his tongue continued its
maddening licking against the urgent pink smoothness of her now
opened sex.
Antoine! Antoine! Mon Dieu, help me, Cheri!
She felt the hot gushes of his breath graze her sensitive,
secret flesh and she moaned aloud in her shame, her head still
raised; she caught at her breath as she heard him grunt, then felt
the full length of his long, hot tongue slide wetly up into her
disgraced, palpitating vagina.
"Ohhhh, please ... no, don't! Not even Antoine has ever done
that to me. Blessed Mother ... I beg you, stop, please ... please
... Oooohhhh!"
Her body responded automatically, jerking with convulsive
lurches, loud groans emitting from her chest as her buttocks
ground again and again downward in an effort to escape the bestial
outrage he was committing upon her defenseless genitals. Her
stomach churned in veritable repulsion and she wailed loathingly
as his tongue slithered in and out of her unwanting pussy in wild
animallike fury.
"Damn you! Damn you!" she groaned in her debased humiliation
and to Larreau's delight, as her head began to wag insanely while
she kept it raised in disbelieving horror to watch his violent
assault. She couldn't believe it! She couldn't! Yet, she knew
it was happening as she felt his long, seething tongue race up
into her unreceptive, yet rapidly dilating cunt. "Ohhhhh, dear
Jesus ... please, Uncle Gaston ... I beg you ... stop ... stop,"
she pleaded feebly in her degraded shame as unwanted twinges of
vile pleasure began to pervade her whole body from his depraved
animallike tonguing of her moist, quivering slit.
Larreau worked hungrily, feeling the soft, wet, pubic hair
brushing his cheeks tauntingly. He had completely opened the
front of his pants, pushing them and the silk shorts beneath them,
down, and now he slowly massaged the heavy thick foreskin back and
forth over the jerking head as he continued spearing his hot,
flicking tongue deep into her cunt. When he had first laid eyes
on her the day Antoine had brought her home, he knew then that
he'd have her for his own pleasure, but he'd never dreamed it
would be such a simple coup, such an enrapturing, satisfying
seduction ... and now, here she lay, squirming wantonly beneath
his tongue and completely at his mercy ... yet to realize how much
she was loving it ... but that would come ... that would come, and
soon ... he was confident of it.
He let his hands slip up over her smooth, flat belly to the
full, firm flesh of her nipple-hardened breasts, cupping and
squeezing them teasingly while his mouth and tongue performed
lasciviously at the wide-spread split down between her legs with
wet, obscene sucking sounds that filled the room, and again,
Madeleine saw his eyes locked sadistically on her defiled,
tormented face, waiting for her total surrender to his vile
debasement of her pride and morals as well as her betraying body.
She clenched her small hands into fists, her arms drawn back
so that her hands were nearly touching her shoulders, as were her
knees near touching her throbbing breasts, her entire, vibrant,
naked flesh steeled against the perverted abuse he was forcing her
helpless body to endure. She was trapped; there was nothing she
could do; he could have his way with her, but she would never
allow herself to willingly submit ... never! Never! She had to
fight him, if only in the subjugation of her defenseless body, she
thought, as he continued to suck insanely at her crotch, trying
desperately to keep her brain from acknowledging the wild,
blissful sensations coursing maddeningly through her every vein,
muscle and cord from his carnally depraved, oral outrage.
Vaguely, she recalled the few times Antoine had started to
make love to her this way, and how she had immediately stopped him
because M. Keel had ran his tongue up through her and she'd never
forgotten the depraved ecstasy of such love ... had Antoine only
been a man and insisted. Truly, she had never known such
enrapturing delight ... but she must keep control of herself ...!
She mustn't give herself to this debauched, incestuous pig who was
humiliating her beyond her wildest imagination ... when there was
absolutely nothing she could do but lie beneath him and accept
whatever degradation he chose to inflict upon her! Oh dear God!
My Antoine ... forgive me my darling ...! Oh ...! Oooohhh ...!
Her groans drove Larreau's tongue faster and faster as it
worked its way up and down the throbbing, pulsing lips of her
tortured cunt. Yes, yes! She was going to beg and plead for his
cock before he was finished with her. Even now, she was hotter
than most women ever dreamed of getting, but she was inwardly
still trying to fight it. He could almost laugh aloud ... if his
tongue and mouth weren't so damned occupied. Fight it, bitch!
You're too far beyond the point already to struggle against
anything I decide to do ... and I can conceive weird, erotic
approaches and positions we might try upon your lovely docile,
desire-wracked body ... and very, very soon.
He could not keep from gloating as suddenly her hands were
toying about his head, her long fingers caressing it while moans
continued to emit from her incessantly. And then, all of a
sudden, she was no longer toying but clutching as the moans
tumbled from her lips in a rhythmic chant, her head rolling from
side to side ... and then, she was clawing at his naked scalp,
grasping at his ears in an attempt to guide his face to the small
palpitating opening of her vagina. He plunged his tongue into the
soft hair-rimmed flesh, taunting it momentarily, then quickly
withdrawing it to tantalize the ragged pink edges.
She cried out in her confused need and clutched at him,
forcefully pressing his mouth directly over the tight little hole
in her squirming crotch.
Once more, he complied, ramming his tongue deep down into it,
rounding his lips and covering the clasping viscous opening to
bring a low guttural groan from this lovely creature whose warm
soft thighs were closing spasmodically around either side of his
head. He could feel the wet, velvety cuntal-flesh slip moistly
around his long extended tongue as the delicate walls of her
invaded vagina opened and closed in an unmistakable hungry sucking
motion, attempting to draw his tongue deeper and deeper into it.
It seemed to him that the nibbling, hair-lined pussy was suddenly
endeavoring with a separate lust of its own to extract his tongue
by the roots and devour it entirely. Her heels began to
involuntarily push down against his back, pressing his obese body
into the soft, quivering flesh trap between her wide-spread,
uptilted legs. His nose was tight against her trembling clitoris
and with every inhalation he sensed the poignant aromas of her
ever increasing lustful, lubricious state. Christ! Its delicate
piquancy was driving his cock to an impossible hardness, an
erection that was near-aching and throbbing with the ferocity of
an exposed nerve in a tooth. He had to fuck the little bitch
soon, else, he was certain, his balls would blow apart!
Madeleine's voluptuously naked body was completely swept up
in the enchanting rapture overwhelming her. Her brain whirled in
tormented delight as hazily she realized that she was rapidly
losing all physical control beneath this lewd and depraved outrage
Antoine's own uncle was committing upon the most secret places at
her crotch. Every muscle of her sex-incited being was tensed as
she strained her hips upward toward the maddening debauchery
between her legs.
Oh Antoine ... my love ... my darling ... I'm lost ... lost!
He has mesmerized me! I cannot stop now ... I can't ... I can't!
If only you had been the first, my darling ... Oh, why didn't you
tell me it was like this! Ooohhh ... Oooohhh ... Oooohhh ...! I
... I think I'm going to ... to burst with ecstasy ...!
And then, thoughts of Antoine licking and thrusting his
tongue up into her warm, waiting cuntal passage excited her even
more. Her drawnup legs opened and closed around the tormenting
head controlling the ravenous, slashing tongue that was licking at
her passion-seared hole. The cords of her neck stood out in
strained relief as she clawed and pulled at his head savagely,
splaying her shapely long legs out wider and wider to the sides,
allowing him greater access.
Her body had deserted her; it was his to do with as he
pleased; Madeleine realized this with debased certainty as he
slipped his hands beneath her quivering buttocks and pulled them
up to him with brutal authority. They jerked and spasmed of their
own volition beneath the plunging tongue sending wild erotic jolts
of never-before experienced sensations surging through her love-
neglected body. And then, suddenly, she felt his tongue flick
from her vagina downward toward the solemnly private little
puckered hole of her anus. She stiffened ... wanted to scream ...
but instead she moaned in rapture at the surprising, wet, seething
contact of his pleasure-giving tongue with the forbidden,
sensitive orifice. She closed her eyes and licked at her lips in
the sensual delight racing wildly through her body.
Responsively, she cried: "Oh don't ... don't, Uncle Gaston
... Mon Dieu!" even as she rolled her hips and tried to screw her
taunted rectum back onto his stiff probing tongue.
Larreau could stand it no longer. Suddenly, he knelt up and
tore the clothes from his grotesque body while she lay beneath him
with closed eyes and tossing head, helpless mewls and whimpers
erupting from her throat constantly as she awaited his next move
with almost ungovernable impatience. His cock jerked and throbbed
insanely. He grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees,
thrusting them roughly back against her shoulders, slithering his
squat, corpulent body up her sweat-coated flesh simultaneously.
His rigid, cavorting prick brushed teasingly against the wetness
of her sparse, soft pubic hair. He splayed his pudgy hands beside
both of her shoulders and forced her legs up and back until her
ankles were locked obscenely behind his neck. He gaped down
between their bodies and saw her upturned crotch and the
magnificence of her ivory-white buttocks completely exposed to
him.
The expanded, narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing, the
wet, coral furrow held wide apart by the pressure of his thighs
tightly up against her own.
"Now, my little Cheri, I'm going to fuck you," Larreau said
down to her, a lewd smile twisting his round, evil face. "Oui ...
I'm going to fuck and fuck you until that little cunt of yours
screams for mercy, eh?"
Madeleine lay beneath him in a sensuously hypnotic state, her
eyes fixed on the movements of his ugly mouth spouting the obscene
words at her, their vile salaciousness echoing excitingly against
the walls of her erotically steeped brain, even as she still
fought feebly to control this gradual subjugation of her mind.
Her body had betrayed her, but she must somehow maintain control
of her wits. Oh, dear God in heaven ...! It's useless; Useless!
She could feel the fleshy hugeness of his lust-hardened cock
lying the full length of her open, quivering vaginal slit. The
jerking, rubbery head of his cock lay palpitating between her
wide-spread buttocks, insinuating itself in a rising and falling,
sawing motion, a maddening tease that caused her to grind her hips
down toward it, her agonized pussy searching hungrily for its
turgid blood-filled tip.
My God! I've got to have it inside me! My body is screaming
for its hot, throbbing hardness! Oh, Antoine ... Antoine ...
forgive me ... but I must have it inside me! Must! Must! Must!
In a near frenzy, Madeleine groped with her hands beneath the
cheeks of her raised ass to grasp the unbelievable length of his
rock-hard shaft. She gasped in awe as her fingers encircled it,
unable to go fully around it, and momentarily a little spasm of
fright trickled through her, but then her tightly closed hands
began caressing it tenderly ... almost reverently, and she sensed
its convulsive jerk against her soft palms, and the viscid fluid
that oozed in droplets from its lust-inflated head. She
maneuvered it up the vale separating the soft, full, vibrant moons
of her buttocks, never allowing it to lose contact with her flesh,
and then she adjusted it between the ravenously lubricated lips of
her voracious vagina. She held it in place with one hand while
the other clutched at his hip in her effort to pull it into her,
that it might satisfy the gnawing, hot, lust burning all the way
into her belly.
Larreau could not resist the temptation to taunt as she began
to squirm and writhe beneath him, lifting her magnificent
sparsely-haired loins up toward the bulging head of his prick that
lay with only its tip inside the moist, fleshy lips of her cunt,
even though he had all he could do to keep from plunging into her,
but his sadistic desire to torment couldn't be denied. Shortly,
he'd empty his load of white, hot sperm into her steaming hole,
but at the moment, he must taunt her ... and he did ... listening
to her pleading moans to be taken ... watching her beautiful,
almost virginal ass twist and jerk in its craving beneath him ...
Then, he flicked his hips forward.
Madeleine winced audibly as she felt the lips around her
throbbing vagina forced open. Its elastic rimmed tightness
resisted momentarily, then gave way before the sharp, brutal
pressure. The sudden, unexpected agony shattered her ecstatic
sensations with the finality of a well-placed bullet and
mechanically she found herself trying to resist the penetration,
squealing a throaty wail at the same time.
Gaston Larreau reveled in that. Her painful cries sent
sadistic chills of delight surging through him. But they were not
enough; he wanted to hear her scream for mercy! He couldn't
endure the waiting any longer! He rammed into her with a brutal
thrust of his hips, a momentary, contemptuous thought of his
nephew dancing through his brain as he sunk his lust-hardened cock
all the way in to his pelvis, his sperm-bloated balls slapping
resoundingly against her twitching anus while she ground her
frantically squirming buttocks down violently into the mattress in
her attempt to escape the cruel, instantaneous impalement.
She screamed! Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his
amorphous bulk and kicked, toes curling futilely, in the air.
"Jesus, God! Noooo! You're splitting me apart! Stop!
Please ...!" Madeleine choked, her naked, white, curvaceous body
pinned helplessly to the bed as though empierced there by a great
blunt-headed stake, and she quickly learned that with her every
resistant jerk the massive head burrowed deeper and deeper into
her.
The little czar's outstretched arms pinioned her tightly
beneath him, while his wide-spread knees held her thighs apart to
their near fullest extent. She was certain that her soft, tender
body was being ripped from her navel to her anus and she'd die
right there from this giant cudgel imbedded deep, deep in her
sensitive vagina. The burning, pole-like shaft felt as though it
would burst through her entrails and into her throat as its
swollen head battered hard against her cervix, jarring and
scrambling the thoughts in her brain as the monstrous thing
pummeled into her.
Larreau gaped at her from above with a licentious smirk
twisting his ugly features. Mon Dieu! In his lifetime he
couldn't remember a more fulfilling seduction. His own adopted
nephew's wife! Once more, the mere incestuous thought elated him
... and this wouldn't be the end ... not by a damned sight! There
would be more such occasions ... many, many more ... God, yes! He
looked at her innocent young face, contorted now from the
viciousness of his first fiendish stab. Delightful! Delightful!
He must train her well ... teach her to suck him and submit
occasionally to the belt. Oui, oui ... the belt! Striping that
magnificent ass ... ahhhh! He grinned widely as her lips curled
back from her white, even teeth, incoherent whimpers emitting from
the depths of her throat. Her arms were outstretched between
them, palms against his hips, and he chuckled as he watched her
attempting to hold back the blunt, hard knob pressing against the
tiny mouth of her womb like a great heavy stone.
Suffer, you little bitch, he thought sadistically as he held
her pinned helplessly in the obscene, humiliating position. He
glanced down once more to see his curly graying pubic hair
entangled tightly with her own silken, raven strands, the base of
his thick fleshy cock barely showing from its submerged depths in
her pink, throbbing cunt ... the very same hole that his tongue
had licked to moist, craving receptiveness only a few moments
before. He could see the tight, hair-lined lips stretched almost
to the ripping point, the spongy, outer coral rim clasping tightly
about the white skinned origin of his massive prick.
He smiled again to himself, holding her there for a moment,
savoring the spectacle of her beautiful impaled loveliness speared
helplessly beneath him, with his heavy prick sunk deep in her
smooth white belly. Damn! He wished her husband, the stupid
parasite punk, could see her now, spread-eagle beneath his crime-
boss uncle! Maybe, he wouldn't think he was too good for his dear
old Uncle Gaston, then, eh ... too good and too smart for the man
who had taken him in, raised and educated him? Ah no, Gaston
Larreau wasn't fooled by the young smart-ass's glib tongue or
pretensive ways ... not by a damned sight. The little punk blamed
him for his parents' death and he was certain of that. Antoine
would sell him out in a minute if he knew how ... and if he dared
... but he'd never have that chance ... any more than this
luscious little cochon would ever get away from him again ... But
how he wished her cockroach husband could see her now, screaming
and yelling beneath him. Mon Dieu! What pleasure that would
bring him ...
Madeleine squirmed helplessly beneath him. Her ecstasy of
only moments before had left her, giving way to the searing pain
his brutal weapon had introduced into her loins and sent racing
madly through her whole body. She couldn't think logically with
the splitting agony of it; nothing mattered but the torment that
was immediately absorbing her. He moved but slightly and she
could feel the searching hot pain of his inhuman shaft tearing
cruelly at her insides from between her legs. She flexed her
vaginal muscles tightly together in an attempt to hold off the
huge, invading spears, but the throb of her internal sinews seemed
to incite the fleshy monster and it plowed its way deeper and
deeper into her vainly resisting channel. She felt the walls of
her cringing cunt clasp around it like a gloved hand. She sensed
its every spongy ridge as her nerve-ends transmitted its enormous
form in minute detail to her tormented brain.
Mother of God! Its growing inside me!
The hard, rubbery tip pressed relentlessly against her
cervix, the ridged blood-engorged tissues along its length, the
tickling hairs of his bloated balls in the wide-spread crevice of
her ass, were all suddenly a part of her. She had become one with
it, and in spite of her pain her tongue snaked out to lick almost
masochistically at her dry lips. Abruptly, the pungent odors of
their coupling stung her flaring nostrils, even as his throbbing
cock lodged deeper into her soft, white belly. She must be losing
her mind entirely ... for in heaven's name there had never been
anything like this before ... and maybe never again ... only this
very moment! God forgive her! Antoine forgive her! Igat ...
yes, yes, Igat! She was doing it for Igat! Now she remembered as
her cunt contracted involuntarily around the magnificent breadth
and length of his great prick buried to the hilt inside her
suddenly wanting belly ...
Larreau felt, then, the slight fluttering pressure exerted
against his aching prick. He'd waited patiently for it, knowing
from experience that it would come. He hovered motionless above
her prostrate form, waiting, waiting, knowing that eventually she
would become accustomed to his bulky presence submerged in her
vagina ... and she had: her whimpers of pain lessened and the
obese little Frenchman began a slow revolving motion with his
pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked crotch, expanding
the still cringing walls of her channel until her whimpers became
whining little mewls that she couldn't seem to contain.
"Oh," she moaned through clenched teeth.
Larreau waited a moment, then flexed once more as he watched
her face beneath him. Her mouth fell limply open, her eyes
clenched tightly shut.
"Ooaaaaahhhhh," she gasped, then held her breath as the
buried cock expanded more, stretching the narrow passage walls
ever apart.
He chuckled lewdly and flexed again, setting a deliberate
teasing rhythm to his throbs. He watched her nostrils flaring to
the tempo. At last, soft purling sounds of rapture escaped from
her open mouth in cadence with his provoking ministrations.
"Oh ... oh ... ohhh ... Oui ... Oui ..." she moaned.
He sensed her urgent answering throbs begin around the head
of his cock. Her moist, clasping channel had begun a soft opening
and closing as it swallowed around his pulsating rod of flesh. He
didn't move, but continued the spaced, tantalizing prick-flexing
inside the impaled girl beneath him. Then, he lowered his lips to
wetly kiss hers and her whole body began to twitch and writhe
under him as she groaned incessantly up into his mouth, thrusting
her tongue with sudden complete abandon deep into his throat. Low
hums of passionate, servile acceptance came in torrents from deep
in her chest, her beautiful face twisting with re-incited erotic
passion, her neck straining as a light film of sweat formed on her
forehead under the now disheveled, long raven hair. He drew his
lips away and her head began to loll from side to side, while her
hips began a slow uncontrollable undulation around his vibrating
prick. Suddenly, her hungry nibbling cunt screwed itself up
tighter against his hair-covered pelvis and he was forced to
clench his teeth tightly in an effort to control his threatening
climax.
There was no longer pain, Madeleine reasoned hazily. Her
body, of its own volition, was responding. A maddening electric-
like tingle had burst into existence inside her cunt and spiraled
through every nerve of her vibrant flesh ... and she never wanted
it to end.
Larreau grazed his hands down her sides and slid them beneath
the soft, satiny spheres of her moving buttocks. They reacted
with a flexing motion to his touch, oozing around his fingers as
he pressed his hands tightly into them. He hauled her tighter to
his loins and felt her drawing her thighs back a little more, the
moist, lubricated hole of her cunt flowering open in reception of
his cock to greater and greater depths. The cords in her neck and
thighs were taut with her desire as she writhed in under him from
the enormity of her building sensations.
"So, Cheri, tell me now ... is it good, eh?" he hissed down
at her.
"Ooooohhh ... Ooohhhhh," she groaned with closed eyes, not
wanting to acknowledge his question.
He ceased all motion then and said: "Maybe, you would have me
stop?"
Her deep dark eyes burst open to plead up at him. "Oh ...
Ooohhh, no, no ... s'il vous plait, M'sieu' ... Mon Dieu!"
"You don't want me to stop, then, eh?" he said, grinning
lasciviously. "You like my big cock in your cunt want me to fuck
you is that right?"
"Oooohhh ... oui, oui ..." she whimpered in shame, aware now
that all control, both physical and mental, had left her, the vile
sound of the lewd words increasing her excitement even more so.
"Then, beg me, Cheri! Beg your Uncle Gaston to fuck your
little cunt-hole!" he taunted wickedly, at the same time grinding
his shaft once more into her moist, vibrant pussy.
Even in this sensually wanton state she had come to,
Madeleine's subconscious struggled. Oh ... it was wrong, wrong
... so wrong! Yet, she wanted it ... had to have it now! Once
more, she tossed her head from side to side, her face twisted in
her mental anguish. Everything decent thought inside her rebelled
and shrank from this vile command ... excluding her throbbing
loins, and therein lay her heart and soul at that very moment.
She bit at her lower lip until she tasted the saltiness of her own
blood, then felt the tears spilling down her cheeks.
"So? Beg me, damn you!" Larreau snarled, digging his fingers
cruelly into the softness of her smooth, white ass-cheeks. "Now!
I say! Beg! Beg! Beg!"
"Ooohhh, oui, oui ... I beg you ... I beg ... you ..."
"Say it! Say fuck me, Uncle Gaston! Fuck my little cunt-
hole with your big, beautiful cock! Hurry, say it!"
"Oooohhh, Mon Dieu ... Oui ... oui ... Fuck me, Uncle Gaston
..."
"The rest! Say the rest!"
"F-Fuck my little ... cunt-hole w-with your big, beautiful
cock! Oh ... oui! Fuck me ... fuck me!" she stammered, then
blurted the words, the sudden thought of her own lips spewing such
obscenities for the first time in her life sending a new
licentious thrill swirling through her, and she began to revolve
her hips in lewd circles around his thick, rigid cock lustfully,
her vagina dilating in tempo to its rhythmic pulsing.
"Ah, oui ... you're going to be a good pupil, ma chere," the
elated, ugly little man crooned as she whined passionately up at
him. "And I'll teach you all of the beauty of fucking and
sucking, eh? Make you happy like this all of the time ... It is
beautiful, no?"
"Oh ... oh, oui, oui! Beautiful ... beautiful ...! Please
... don't ever stop!"
Larreau chuckled in evil delight. He said: "As you wish, ma
chere, I won't stop, but you must learn to work harder, eh?"
Immediately, he sensed her response as might an eager student
to his teacher; he felt her pelvis begin screwing up against the
length of his colossal lead-hard rod, the tiny contracting muscles
within her cunt nibbling hungrily at the inflated head. The
dilated lips of her hair-lined coral slit pulled maddeningly away,
slipping moistly down the shaft for several inches, then munched
their way back up, buffering her soft, shadowy-down tightly
against his own pubic hair, embedding the full length of him deep
into her warm, white belly. He remained unmoving, resting above
her with his hands splayed on either side of her shoulders, his
knees pressed tight to the mattress. He let her quaking body ride
up and down at will on his rigid cock that bridged them together.
He watched intensely its slow withdrawal between them,
extracting thin ridges of her pink flesh out with it as she
screwed her buttocks down into the mattress, then pushing the
velvety, coral folds back into her as the glistening length was
absorbing deep into the palpitating, salacious hole. He let her
strain against him for awhile, watching the utter abandon of her
efforts, a dazed, ecstatic smile playing around her lips. Damn,
he thought, she was going to make an excellent pupil, and then he
began to fuck into her, sawing gently and rhythmically with his
mighty cock. He grinned to himself as she began to whimper in
cadence with his thrusts, and he felt the slap of his balls
against the tight, unprotected crevice of her anus. Christ, what
a delightful creature! She overwhelmed him! His brain raced
wildly. It was time for further education ... education and
subjugation of his nephew's lovely little wife ...!
Madeleine rolled her head in delighted, unequivocal bliss,
the last twinges of pain long gone from her passion-filled body,
her legs on either side of his thick impaling cock quivering and
twitching spasmodically in unrestraint, as her tongue slithered in
and out of his ugly mouth in an oral fucking semblance, while
velvety sounds of rapture gurgled deep down in her throat. Never
... never in her life had there been anything like this! From his
sucking and licking of her cunt to this very moment with his huge
cock penetrating the very mouth of her womb, filling her belly to
complete capacity ... and she learned that by tensing her thighs,
straining the muscles and cords of her neck and back, writhing her
loins up tight against him, that the intenseness of her ecstasy
was almost deliciously unbearable.
Mon Dieu! She could not yet accept the thought that such
magnificent sensations could come from lying beneath a man and
being fucked against her will ... from committing adultery ...
yet, it was true ... it was true!
Larreau had begun to pummel into her with increasing force,
lengthening his stroke as well as quickening it, drawing his heavy
cock nearly out of the tight, moist sheath clasping at it
hungrily, then plunging it into her upraised crotch until his
balls whapped hard against the hairless, exposed puckered hole of
her anus. His throbbing testicles ached as did his prick with the
mounting, building pressure, building ... forever building inside
his bloated sac, and his head swam with his intensifying lust.
His hand slid down over the taut skin of her lasciviously
undulating buttocks to the small crinkled hole nestled so
unprotectedly there, and he felt her intake of breath as he
fingered its soft, warm flexing movements while she labored
passionately against his loins. A rivulet of warm, viscid fluid
that had seeped from her straining pussy moistened it, and he
taunted it intentionally before making his move.
"Ma chere," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, "now comes
another treat for you. I am going to shove my finger right up
your asshole ... just as far as it'll go ... like a miniature cock
it will be, fucking you in the ass while my prick pounds into your
cunt, eh?"
Madeleine struggled with her breathing, the erotic sensations
produced by his lurid words and actions, the subjugating of her
body to his every vile and lewd whim, causing even further
masochistic raptures to sweep over her. She moaned aloud.
"Oooohhhh ... Oui, oui ... do it ... do it!" she whimpered.
"Do what, my pet?" he prodded quickly. "What do you want me
to do?"
"Oooohhh ... your finger ... Oui ... put it in my asshole!
Oui! Quick ... I want you to do it I want you to!"
The little czar's naked head screamed with the lustful
exhilaration she was causing to race wildly inside it. His
massive prick felt as if it would burst before he ever squirted
his semen into her. He fumbled with his thick finger at the
round, tight, little puckered hole, then he pushed into it with a
sudden, almost brutal thrust, feeling the soft, spongy orifice
give before his assault.
"Agggghhhhh!" Madeleine gasped, the sound tumbling from her
lips in painful protest as his cock pounded mercilessly into her.
He thrust further and harder, taking gloating pleasure in
hearing her groans of subservient agony. She grunted and coughed,
even as her cunt rode hungrily up and down his throbbing cock.
"Auggghhh ... God!" she cried louder from his further outrage
against her defenseless rectum, feeling him beginning to rotate
the digit ... gently at first, then more rapidly, until he'd sunk
it all the way to the palm of his hand into the deep, rubbery
warmth of her anal passage and she groaned uncontrollably beneath
him.
Mother of Christ! Never had she known such pleasure-pain ...
nor such rapture, Madeleine thought. Agony issued from her
tormented rectum ... from his thick finger buried and moving
inside it, even as algolagnic delight filled her loins and belly
... and then the pain from his thrusting penetration began to
subside as she grew accustomed to its thick presence ... adding
richer bliss to the pleasures spiraling through her, and she began
to skewer her anus lasciviously back onto it at the same time as
she strained to absorb his joy-giving cock inside her belly.
Larreau could barely control his lust any longer. His loins
ached with his need for release and he rammed into her upturned
cunt with growing fury. She had accepted his finger in her
asshole with delight, and suddenly, he shoved a second one into
the very depths, without benefit of gentleness causing her to
scream beneath him. This was what he wanted! Scream cochon,
scream! He wormed them both around inside the warm, spongy
depths, feeling his own cock plunging in and out of her through
the thin wall that separated her passages ... until slowly, the
wails of pain subsided, easing in to greater moans of pleasure as
her anus became accustomed to the vicious, unnatural invasion he
had subjected it to.
He grinned in triumph, then kissed her. She sucked at his
tongue buried half into her throat as her rectum screwed back on
his fingers and her legs raised higher to receive his thundering
weapon while methodically, he probed around in the warm, rubbery
channel. She was hopelessly impaled between his hard throbbing
cock in her vagina and his fingers shoved tightly in her twitching
rectum. And now, moaning and mewling beneath him, she began
twisting and squealing wantonly under the dual ravishment of her
loins. Her thrusts up against him became more urgent, her motions
ever increasing, her small white teeth biting hard into her lower
lip again as he continued the drubbing pillage of her asshole. He
knew she was straining to come; the juices of her milking vagina
were flowing like sap, and he could hear the wet sucking sound of
the in and out sawing movement as she suddenly bolted sharply up
his cock, taking it deep inside her, her back arched a foot off
the bed, her feet planted flat on either side of his knees. She
bucked against him wildly and he pulled his fingers from her
rectum with a wet, hissing sound. She squirmed and skewered,
raising a cry from her throat with every upthrust.
"Oh ... Oooohhh ... Mon Dieu! Oui ... Oui! I-I'm comming,
Uncle ...! Oh Christ! I'm cummmmiinnngggg ... Oooohhhh! Uncle
Gaston ...!"
Her body began to convulse uncontrollably, her cry choking in
her throat. Torrents of warm, viscous fluid gushed from her open,
jerking cunt, immersing his driving prick in its sticky heat and
trickling obscenely down the crevice between her smooth, white
buttocks, and on down over his balls pressed snugly against her
wide-stretched anus.
Larreau continued to hammer into her, ramming harder and
deeper, and as he felt her jerk, lurch, spasm wildly, the mouth
and lips of her cunt sucking at his prick feverishly, her breath
laboring in short deep gasps, he felt his own hot, thick sperm
racing the length of his prick in stimulating ecstasy, racking his
squat, obese bulk as it spurted from the tip of his cock far up
into her soft, quivering belly. It jerked and spewed in never
ending delight inside her and she ground her crotch up tight
against its buried depth, her cuntal lips working like a gulping
fish to suck the last of his hot, scalding sperm from his lust-
bloated testicles.
The enrapturing bliss of his hot, white cum squirting into
her raised an undeniable cry of enchantment from Madeleine. Her
thighs quivered below and her belly quaked with the unleashed pool
of pleasure he had emptied into her. She had never realized such
joy could come from such a vile act ... and especially with such a
loathsome man ... but it had; it had! She let her legs fall limp,
while her heart pounded in her breast. Her body had been
fulfilled, but now in the aftermath, her shame and degradation
were creeping rapidly back over her in one vast all-consuming
wave.
He collapsed atop of her, his great weight nearly crushing
the breath from her, his thick, deflating penis still submerged
deeply inside her quivering vagina. She rolled her head to one
side in an effort to escape his foul gasping breath that she now
noticed for the first time. She felt him flex his shrinking rod a
last time, its dregs draining into her, and suddenly she wanted to
scream and scream, but his massive body kept her from that ...
Dear Jesus! What had she come to? Oh my God, Antoine ...
can you ever forgive me, my darling? But you see ... I had nobody
... nobody ...! And my baby ... my Igat ... Oh, mother of God
...!
Madeleine could no longer hold back her tears and as they
burst from her in choking sobs, Larreau rolled his squat bulk from
her sated, if, battered, voluptuous young body. He managed to sit
up and gape at her and she turned onto her side, her back to him,
her lovely naked form shuddering in her weeping.
"So? What the hell is this all about?" he shot at her. "Was
it that bad, eh? One minute you fuck like a hot little bitch in
heat ... the next, you're bawling as if you'd just lost your
cherry. Look, goddamnit, cut it out. Sniveling women make me
sick ..."
He lay his hand on her thigh and smoothed it up over the line
of her hip to the hollow of one soft, white buttock. She flinched
at his touch and shook her behind as if to shake it off. "Leave
me alone! Damn you! Don't touch me anymore ... ever! Ever, do
you hear? Ever!"
She rolled onto her back to glare up at him through her tears
and Larreau read the hatred in her enraged dark eyes.
Momentarily, a little tingle of excitement rippled through him at
the sight and his limp member gave a start. Christ, if he had the
time, he thought ... but there would be other occasions ... yes,
many, many more. He could wait.
"All right, ma chere, if that's the way you feel ..." he
said, shrugging his shoulders and getting to his feet from the
bed, "you better get out of here. Get your clothes on and get
out."
Madeleine stared at him. Already, she was sorry for what she
had said; inasmuch as she had submitted to him because of his
promise to help her get Igat from the Girardes. Dear God, she had
sacrificed everything ... her marriage vows, all claims to decency
... and now to have it end all in vain ...
He went to his clothes and began to dress, no longer noticing
her, as if she was not in the room.
"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Gaston," she forced herself to apologize.
"But ... but ... I've never done anything like that before, and
when I realized ..."
He jerked his head around to look at her, his ugly face
twisting in a nasty grin. "What the hell are you saying ... never
done anything like that before? How about the kid, eh? What was
that? An immaculate conception, Cheri?"
"B-But that was different! You don't understand ..."
"They're all different," he snapped coldly. "Ask any woman.
She never gives herself; she's always raped, eh? Like you just
were. Raped. Always raped. Now tell me you didn't like it,
Cheri ... Go on, tell me that you hated my cock buried deep in
that tight little pussy of yours ... Well? Tell me ... if you
can."
Madeleine lay unmoving, her eyes fixed on his round, ugly
face, his words registering slowly in her brain. Dear God, she
couldn't honestly deny it! She'd loved it. He had aroused inside
her what Antoine, her own husband, had never even come close to
... a passion that had been near heavenly bliss itself ...
unwanted or not, he had done that ... and then it abruptly
occurred to her that the blame was not his, but her own, and the
hatred she felt was not for him, but for her own self. She was
the temptress, the one to be despised, the seductive animal who
had come here of her own free will, just as she had gone with M.
Keel for her own gain. But, Mother of God, she had done it for
Igat ... for Igat ...
"Come on," he interrupted her self-condemning thoughts. "You
better leave now. I've got business ..."
"U-Uncle Gaston ... I'm sorry," she said, slowly swinging her
feet to the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Please ...
please don't be angry with me. I-I did like it ... honest."
"Humph ..." Larreau grunted, pretending indifference, while
inside he was elated with the way it was developing. He had her;
she was his to play with as long as he liked, even though she
hated him and he knew it, but it was the kid ... she'd do anything
to get back her kid. And he knew how to handle that, too; for if
he did get her the child, it would be all over for him ... she'd
have nothing more to do with him. So ...? He'd pretend ... but
do nothing.
"Are you angry with me, Uncle?"
"I'll get over it, Cheri."
"And ... and you'll do what you promised ... about Igat, I
mean?" she asked as she started to dress.
"That will depend," he answered, matter-of-factly.
"Depend? On what, Uncle ...?"
He was knotting his tie. He turned to smile at her. "On how
you perform tomorrow."
Madeleine could hardly believe her ears. Her mouth fell open
as she stared at him. She stood with only her panties covering
her lovely body, her full and erect breasts thrusting forward
proudly. She repeated in abject disbelief; "T-Tomorrow?"
"Of course, ma chere. Tomorrow ... the next day, and the day
after ... whenever I so crave your tight little ass, eh?" He
chuckled, slipped on his coat and walked slowly toward the door.
"Now, hurry and dress. You must leave before my business
appointment arrives, eh? We wouldn't want anyone to see you here
and tell our dear Antoine, now, would we?" He opened the door and
stood momentarily looking back at her. "You're lovely, ma chere,"
he said, licking at his lips. "Yours are the most beautiful tits
I've ever seen ... ah, oui. And tomorrow ... tomorrow I'll teach
you some new delights, eh?"
He closed the door silently while she stood gaping after him,
his words and meaning filling her brain with sickening despair.
Dear God, she was completely and hopelessly trapped in a snare of
her own making, a web of horrible circumstances that she had
helped weave around herself, and now she was with less chance of
escape than ever.
Oh God, help me! Somebody, help me!
She sat back down on the edge of the bed and wept quietly
into her hands.
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. 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.
Madeleine couldn't believe what she was feeling. 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. Or was it the very
idea of what they were doing? She didn't know ... but God, she didn't
want him to ever stop.
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 ...!
He kept pushing it into her. Unmercifully so. Pressing the
bulging, rubbery head to the tight, drawn entrance of her pussy, she
clenched her teeth and moaned ... 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, causing her to scream
aloud, yet, simultaneously forcing his buttocks back onto the bed, and
she clutched at his hips gouging her nails into his flesh as she thrust
and forced and ground herself into the
wicked implement right up her waiting pussy 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, and purr with delight as he sent the massive dildo up
her passage, 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 screamed at her, at the same time forcing the fake cock
up deep into her cunt.
Excited with her own mounting and approaching climax, she fucked
back faster 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 herself, 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 her cut, 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.
"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 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
...!"
Chapter 17
Madeleine pressed her thigh up against his crotch, bringing his
cock to a hurting hardness once more. Shannon grunted, feeling
the wetness from its seminal weeping at the tip of the turgid,
rubbery head.
"Oh, my Shannon, cheri ... you make me so happy ... I-I want
to know every inch of you," she whispered, running her fingers
through his hair, her breath warm and sweet in his face. He still
lay atop of her and she kissed him, darting her tongue up into his
mouth again as he moved his hands down beneath her to the
smoothness of her buttocks, cradling the soft round spheres in his
palms and splayed fingers. She clung tightly to him, then ran her
hands exploringly down over his lean hard flesh, pale from his
long incarceration, searching eagerly into the private hollows of
him. Her head swam with the thrilling delight of the moment, with
the anticipation of her fulfillment to come. Dear God, how she
needed him ... how she was always going to need him ... how she
would love him forever and ever and ever ...!
His cock pressed almost savagely against her thighs, its
generous head splitting the narrow, hair-lined slit of her cunt-
lips as it lay poised and ready, as if it might plunge into her
again at any unknown second. The thought induced her to lift her
hips suddenly, raising both of them while she moved her arms
around beneath her buttocks and with the fingertips of both hands,
spread her soft, fleshy vaginal lips more open to him, offering an
even greater tensing contact for his prick with her moist,
sensitive cuntal flesh. Then she dropped back onto the bed, his
throbbing rod caught tightly between her thighs.
Shannon's own brain began to swirl once more with the erotic
pleasures of her inviting body. Christ, he'd forgotten it could
be like this ... that a man could completely lose all sense of
perspective once he lay caught between a lovely woman's legs ...
and this was the most enticing creature he had ever known ... but
he wasn't going to kid himself ... she was no amateur ... no
dainty godamned little flustered wife who had suddenly lost her
husband to the law and was waiting patiently on the shelf for his
return ... This delightful, breathtaking bitch had somehow become
a seasoned whore in unsuspecting Tony's absence, and he, Shannon,
intended to take full advantage of her talents, as well as her
bank-balance ... and on top of that he was going to make her love
it.
He trailed his hands over the soft curves of her naked body
and she began a slow, rhythmic undulation with her hips; he could
feel the long smooth muscles and cords beneath the sun-tinted
flesh ripple lightly, indicating a hidden, unexpected strength he
had not noticed before. In his mind he could feel the soft but
powerful sinews of her thighs gripping at his back again when he
buried his cock into her.
She whined, cat-like, and mashed her lips against his,
writhing her smooth flat belly tight up to him, her long nails
raking the flesh of his back as he drew her naked loins up tighter
to him. He tasted the delicious sweetness of her desire-heated
mouth as he moved up and down slowly, the insinuated full-length
of his hardness massaging her widespread cuntal slit that was
wrapped so warmly and wetly around his shaft, and growing more wet
with every passing second; he felt her firm, full buttocks tauten
and relax in his hands as she began a more frantic rotation up
against his loins, until at last, her legs shot out wide to the
left and right of his naked, grinding body, her calves returning
to encircle and press against the backs of his thighs in an effort
to pull and lock him tighter into her.
"Oooohhh ... now, Cheri ... now! Fuck me ... please ... fuck
me before I go mad!" she groaned against his lips, her panting
breath hot in his face, her hand darting down between them to
grasp his throbbing prick and guide it further into her between
the fleshy, hair-fringed lips of her moist, quivering cunt.
Shannon grunted loudly at her touch, unable to hold himself
back any longer, and with a decisive movement of his hips, drove
his pulsating shaft with a flesh-resounding smack deep into the
grasping hot mouth of her wanting pussy.
"Oooohhhh," she whimpered pleasurably under him, while the
amazing tightness of her moist velvety passage walls sheathed his
sensitive, steel-hard spear of flesh with a skilled muscle control
that raised another guttural grunt of delight from deep in his
throat.
He thrust viciously, sending his long, aching cock up into
her warm tight cunt with hellish force, driving and pounding, the
flow of her lubrication fluids mixed with his own sperm from
before, easing the way with each plunge, until at last the blood-
inflated head of his heavy rod struck bottom and his balls slapped
hard between the smooth rounded cheeks of her desperately
clenching ass.
Madeleine wailed with the pain-pleasure and writhed in a
moment of brief agony beneath him as the bloated head of his cock
rammed and pummeled the depths of her secret womanhood, but her
cry of torment only incited him to greater lust and he drove
harder, grinding his pelvis solidly into her soft loins, flexing
the head at the apex of his thrust to raise a further groan of
masochistically desired pain from her, then, he paused momentarily
to allow his own ache from his vicious entry to deplete itself.
Little purling sounds of servitude continued to tumble from
her lips as she lay beneath him completely subjugated to his
meagerest whim, entirely impaled by his lust-famished, heavy cock
probing the very intricate depths of her warm soft belly, and a
never before feeling of sadistic power came over him, causing him
to tormentingly flex the hot, blood-engorged head again and again,
raising a series of gurgling moans from between her erotically
delighted, gnashing teeth.
She labored tautly up against him and he ground harder into
the hot, moist flesh, feeling her arch her crotch needfully up to
him, lifting both of their bodies from the bed while she whimpered
incessantly and he began his thrusting cock-tempo once again. He
felt her strong legs tighten and release around him at his hips as
she started to work up and down his hardened stalk of flesh with
her clasping pussy, until they had established a mutual rhythm and
her head started to loll in an ungovernable pattern from side to
side, while her mouth opened and closed in delicious abandon.
"Oh, Mon Dieu! My handsome cheri ... You're magnificent ...!
I love you! Don't ever leave me ... promise you'll never leave me
... Oh, mon Cher ... it's such a beautiful cock ... I must have it
with me always to fill my cunt like it is right now. Oh God ...
Cheri, tonight I'll suck and kiss it until dawn ... Oui ... Oui!
Ooohhhh, mon cher, do more! Do more! Hurt me! Make me your
woman ... your slave ... Put your finger in my ass! Please ...
please ... hurry! Oui, hurt me, my lover!" she begged like a wild
bitch in heat in the uncontrolled throes of her ecstatic trance.
Her plea set off a near maddening current of sensation within
him, fostering a new tremor of licentious lust to race furiously
to his cock, his brain, and his groping hands. He searched in
under her and found the wide-spread crevice between her rounded
buttocks while he pounded his ever-growing prick into the soft
wetness of her seething cunt. He sought her tiny, hairless anus
with his middle finger, trailing along the velvety smoothness of
the undulating furrow, finding it without difficulty ... and
finding it wet from a thin rivulet of warm seepage that had
dribbled down from where his cock pleasurably sawed into her. She
shivered in carnal delight as he taunted the puckered little hole,
lubricating the tiny orifice with the balled pad of his index
finger before teasing and probing it with the firm tip. He sensed
her lovely ass press back onto the stiffened digit while he
pressed hard into it, surprised at first at its resistance ...
then, all of a sudden, it popped, its elastic ring of rubbery
flesh seeming to open like a small mouth to absorb and suck his
finger inside to the first knuckle joint. She lurched beneath
him, almost as if she were trying to escape the sudden invasion.
"Oh ... oooohhhh! Oui, oui! You hurt me so tenderly, mon
cher. Oui ... more ... more! Mon Dieu, my lover ...! Hurt me
... fuck me harder ... harder ... harder!"
Shannon was wild in his own building rapture. He'd never
before realized ... dreamed perhaps ... but never believed it
could happen to him ... that there actually lived such passionate,
passionate females ... His brain was a saturated, spongelike
component of lust. He thrust his imbedded finger further up into
her clasping asshole, as simultaneously he increased the stroke of
his pillaging cock into the warm, wet channel of her cunt, and
felt her soft smooth rectum walls the length of his long probing
finger to the palm of his hand, causing her to cry aloud with the
wanted, masochistic pleasure-pain that had unquestionably seized
all control of her soft, naked flesh.
She skewered her buttocks shamelessly back down onto the
distended finger, searching, thrusting, encircling the elastic
depths of her back channel, seeming to revel on its unnatural
presence as he rotated it unmercifully inside the warm, rubbery
cavern of her rectum, while at the same time, he could feel the
in-and-out thrusts of his heavy cock through the thin, fleshy
partition separating the two entrances of her passages ... feeling
his cock with his exploring, pummeling finger, and his finger
against the sensitivity of his pounding, aching prick.
Shit! It was too much! He was going to flip his fucking
mind if he didn't cum again soon!
He sought to establish a combination of finger and cock,
until he was fucking into her with furious unison in his effort to
bring her to climax, while she groaned and writhed unceasingly
beneath him. She spread her long white legs to the fullest in
order to give him the greatest access to this unnatural ravishment
of her sensitive sexual genitals, and all of a sudden, he sensed
his prick expanding more and more ... growing inside her to that
point where he was certain it would erupt like a boiling volcano
from the ever-increasing, needle-like pressure building
unbelievably in his already bloated balls that were smacking in
steady cadence down between her smooth grinding buttocks and
against his own probing hand with finger buried far in the secret
depths of her asshole.
Christ, he thought, he couldn't last much longer! She was
too much for his unpracticed staying-power. Damn ... he didn't
want to disappoint her; he needed her ... both her ass and her
money ... but his cock was ready to shatter with the load he was
going to blow through it! Hell, he couldn't hold it back, was all
... not much longer, and that was for damned certain! Christ ...!
He began slamming into her with longer, harder strokes as his
finger gouged her wide-stretched rectum wildly. She gripped him
tight over his back with her thighs, her face contorted in a wild
mask of animal lust and he hoped dazedly that she was getting
ready to cum. He just couldn't last another minute, that's all
there was to that! Christ ... Then, he heard her begin to moan
and whimper like an animal, little guttural sounds that were
coming from deep in her throat, and he felt her strong working
thighs opening and closing around him as she thrust upward onto
his cock and backward onto his finger to the tempo of his savage
ravaging of her loins.
"Ooooohhhh ... harder, Cheri. Fuck harder! Harderrrr!"
Madeleine coughed, then spewed forth a barrage of foul and obscene
words as she drove her heels high into the flesh of his back.
Abruptly, she drew up her legs, raising them up over his
shoulders, presenting him with the full, wide-spread plain of her
beautiful, upraised crotch. Her eyes, like her teeth, were locked
securely together, while her face twisted and strained as her
orgasm came onto her.
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! J'arrive! Oui! Oui! cherie ... I'm
cuuuummmiinnngggg!"
She whimpered, cried out, then actually screamed, pulling her
thighs back tighter until the whole of her hungrily sucking
vaginal slit was offered up to him to take as he wished. She
thrust her crotch ceilingward with bruising force, her mouth
falling open loosely, her nostrils flaring, wail after wail
escaping her as she screwed herself up onto his battering cock and
clung there while the hot, moist walls of her cunt milked
desperately at his prick like the mouth of a starving child.
Her uncontrollable ecstasy drove him on and he continued to
hammer into her as he felt the warm gushes of wet, sticky fluid
bathe his plundering cock, flooding his shaft and balls, and as
she jerked and lurched beneath him spasming wildly, the mouth and
lips of her channel drawing at him feverishly, her breath laboring
in short, deep gasps, Shannon sensed his own hot, wet sperm race
the length of his prick in stimulating rapture, wracking his lean
frame as it squirted from the top of his cock far, far up into her
soft quivering belly. It convulsed and spewed in never ending
bliss inside her and she ground her still hungrily nibbling pussy
possessively up tight against its buried depths.
"Oh, oui, oui, mon cher ... pump all of it into me! All of
it! It's mine ... mine ... mine! Your cream is mine!" she
mumbled, her thighs quaking, her belly trembling with the
unleashed pool of warm pleasure he was emptying into her. Until,
at last, he fell heavily relaxed on top of her and once more she
encircled him inside her caressing arms.
She sighed from deep in her breast, her legs falling limp,
shamelessly, while her heart pounded in her chest. Her body had
been fulfilled at last ... and Oh God, how fulfilled ...
"Cheri.... mon cheri," she whispered. "I love you ... You
believe me, eh?"
Shannon swallowed and gave off a long sigh of his own. "I
believe you, Baby."
"And we will be very happy ... I know ... won't we, Cheri.
"Very ... once we get all that money, we have to be happy,
Angel ... Money's the secret."
"And we will get my baby? My little Igat ...?"
"Of course, we'll get her," said Shannon, finally rolling off
her to the side, on his back. "You never signed any papers with
the Girardes, did you?"
Madeleine turned toward him and raised to one elbow, her
magnificent breasts brushing against him pendulously. "Papers?"
she repeated, then slowly shook her head. "There were never any
papers, cheri."
"Good," he said. "Then, there's no question. Igat is still
legally your child, and we'll get her when we're ready ... after
we take care of the Larreau business."
His confident words sent a thrill of elation soaring through
Madeleine. She clutched at his arm tightly. Dear God, they were
going to be so happy, just the three of them ... "Tell me, Cheri.
what do you want me to do? How can I help?"
Shannon smiled, then rolled toward her. He said: "Well now
... you just lay quiet, Baby, keep your legs open and I'll tell
you all about it ..."
Chapter 18
Annette Larreau could not definitely pinpoint the exact
moment in her twenty-two years when she first contemplated
suicide; it was as if the idea had been haphazardly floating
around in her brain as far back as she could remember, before all
of her father's mistresses, before "Cousin" Antoine had been sent
to prison and his Madeleine had disappeared, before the evil ogre
who had first her committed her mother to an institution for the
mental deficient when she was ten, even prior to the time when she
had come to understand that the name Larreau was synonymous with
every conceivable vice and evil imagined or otherwise, and that
her father was lord-governor of the domain.
All the same, she had never tried it, nor was it a mania or
fixation with her, any more than did she fall into morbid states
of depression or dwell on the subject when she was with the select
few people she called friends. The simple explanation was that
she had long ago decided she was a social freak and had always
been, that the sight of her name in the elite gossip columns
nauseated her, that she did not belong and in general, was not
wanted; but she was that novelty piece, the risque bit, the
notorious daughter of the nefarious Gaston Larreau, crime czar;
and her first and immediate appearance at any function always made
for a delightful raising of eyebrows and exciting under-the-breath
conversation. The entire picture of her whole life had been,
presently was, and would be as long as she existed, a waste, and
she had no desire to continue on with it further. It was that
simple; the time had finally come to put an end to things, but the
question was, how?
Being of the new, mod, non-violent generation, she abhorred
guns, knives and the like, and the mere thought of strangulation
by hanging one's self, or administering poison, even wrist-
slashing, seemed nothing short of crude, abominable methods. An
overdose of sleeping potions was probably the more practical and
less painful approach, however, a little item on the back page of
the Montreal Star had finally helped her to make up her mind. It
was a short and concise piece that told of a young man being found
in his apartment, dead from an overdose of heroin: thus, Annette
Larreau decided to become an addict first ... a corpse later, once
the novelty wore off.
There was one more issue of importance to be taken into
consideration she thought, as she drove her sporty red, Karmann-
Ghia south on Highway 9 from Quebec City where she had spent a
"square-peg" few days with old Laval schoolmates, and that was the
disposition of the sleek, noble beast seated erectly on the seat
beside her ... the future of her gallant and faithful Great Dane,
Sir Launcelot. He was devoted to her and she loved him with a
depth of feeling that went far beyond the shallow emotions
peculiar to the human animal; she loved him as no woman ever loved
even her lover, and the thought of leaving him behind to the
unmercy of the world raised tears each time it crossed her mind.
Yet, she had only to look into his great brown eyes to know that
she couldn't bring herself to take his life; still, neither could
she bear to leave him behind to some worse fate ... Dear God, she
did love him so ...!
He was the only meaningful thing her father had ever given
her, and she had raised him from a pup, raised, trained and taught
him that his entire existence was meant to fill the void in her
life. She had treated him as a human, never an animal, showering
her love upon him and demanding the same in return. Her Launcelot
had never known copulation with another dog for she had denied him
that, jealously so, but in place of a bitch dog she had given him
herself, patiently teaching and guiding him until she was certain
there was no human of the male specie who could begin to match his
magnificent love-making.
Dear God, she had only to think of their nightly intimate
moments to work herself into a sexual frenzy. If only people
could rise to the level of so-called dumb animals ... what a
different and wonderful world it would be, she thought. She
reached over and stroked his great head, smiled at him and he
whined back his response. Damn, for two cents she was tempted to
pull off on a side road to some secluded spot and let him lick her
between her legs to climax. That anticipating, wanting expression
was gleaming innocently in his great round eyes, and the mere
thought had pleasurably moistened the tight, hairlined slit
between her warm, itching thighs. She shifted in the seat and
felt her panties draw snugly up into the soft, vibrant crevice,
gently splaying the fleshy lips to tauten provocatively against
her suddenly aroused clitoris. Once more, she squirmed her
buttocks down into the leather of the cushion causing delightful
little sensations to tingle in her loins and belly. The giant
dog, with ears erect, watched her and whimpered longingly, his
brown eyes pleading, as if somehow he could, and had, read her
thoughts. His nose twitched also, as if the odor of the
excitement forming down between her legs had wafted over to him.
Annette laughed warmly, almost excitedly, again reaching over
to stroke his head. "Ah ... mon cher, but I'm afraid it will have
to keep, eh? Maybe later, sweetheart ... but for sure, tonight
..." Then, her smile changed to an expression of sadness. After
awhile, she said: "My gallant Launcelot ... what's to become of
us, you and me ...? We are all that either of us have in this
rotten world ... and in all humaneness I can't leave you behind
when I go ... nor can I take your life ... Mon Dieu ... I don't
know ... I don't know, Cheri."
Her abrupt solemn change of mood immediately dispelled her
prurient desires of a few moments before. She settled back in the
seat and drove with her eyes fixed on the road as she thought.
There was something almost sadistic in the method she had settled
on to bring things to an end for herself, plus the idea of
addicting her body to heroin, inasmuch as her own father filled
his coffers from the illicit traffic, amongst other evil things;
yet, at the same time, it sounded like a wild and crazy adventure.
She'd tried it and liked it, freaked-out on "speed" a few times
and forgotten her woes, but "smack" was going to be a brand new
trip, and getting the stuff should be simple. Armand Nicolet
would help her.
She smiled as she thought of sweet little Armand, son of
Canada Steel's first family, introvert, homo and addict. He'd
help her all right; they were buddies who occasionally cried on
one another's shoulder, understood each other's plight, had even
slept together to see if he could stand it heterosexually, but
with the exception of a bit of soixante-neuf it had fallen flat
for him. Still, they were friends each knowing and sharing the
other's problems, finding mutual consolation in their individual
ostracism from the established world. Tonight, she'd see Armand
and the few others she called friends ... tonight at Mother
Turtle's ... and that would be the beginning of the end ... but
first, she was going home and spit in her father's eye. That was
one more of the few remaining pleasures she still enjoyed on this
earth.
* * *
Gaston Larreau, when he stood, towered a maximum of five-
feet-seven-inches, a portion of this supplied by his one-hundred-
and-fifty dollar elevator shoes, but what he lacked in height he
made up in width, both in belly and shoulders, for he moved the
scale-hand beyond the two-hundred-seventy pound mark. He
possessed a glistening, naked pate and was deeply indebted
appearancewise to his tailors who made him appear meticulous of
dress. His nubbin head was round and set close between his
shoulders, leaving him neckless, while his round-face gave him a
pumpkinish look; his small grey, nearly colorless eyes were spaced
too-wide apart, just as his too-small ears clung tight to his
head. The aged scar left from an early razor wound ran the length
of his right cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth, making the
flesh there puffed and malformed until he smiled, and then one
noticed little else but the line of strong golden upper teeth.
At the moment, he was not smiling as he sat imperiously
behind the massive desk in his "ballroom" sized study, facing his
daughter who had walked in to inflict a bit of mental torture on
this man whom she despised with a passion.
"The hell you say!" he blurted in his native tongue. "The
Godamned hell you say girl. I won't stand for it, you hear? Not
one godamned minute will I stand for it ...!"
The idea had come to Annette not minutes before as she walked
into the house. It was so insane and bound to torment him that
she couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it before. Right
at the moment, she could hardly control her elation as she watched
the little ogre before her fume and rant, and even Launcelot at
her side momentarily bared his teeth and growled at the fat man's
sudden fury.
"I can't imagine what you're going to do about it, pere," she
said in English, knowing this, too, irked him. "I've made up my
mind ... I'm going to marry Armand Nicolet."
"Jesus Christ! You must be out of your rattled head!" the
czar bellowed. "You know what he is ...? Do you? That godamned
little queen! He's one of those, for Christ's sake ... He's a ...
a ... a ..."
"A homosexual, pere," Annette put in calmly. "Is that what
you were trying to say?"
Larreau gaped at her, his cheeks bloated, his eyes bugged.
"What the hell ... all right, yeah, that's part of it, and that
ought to be enough for you. He's a godamned queer! On top of
that, he's a ... a ... a ..."
"He's hooked, pere, eh?" she interrupted again. "Addicted
... and to heroin, right?" She lay her hand on Launcelot's massive
head to keep the animal from growling. "But then, that should
make you happy, mon pere, I mean, if it weren't for people like
Armand, how could you get along? Really, I think you're very
short-sighted ..."
"Godamn you, girl! Don't stand there and talk to me like
that, you hear? I won't put up with it!" Larreau raged, the scar
on his cheek a livid purple. Angrily, he struggled to his feet
and once more, Launcelot unleashed a fierce growl. The little fat
man stared at the great animal and swallowed tightly. "Damn it
... get that thing out of here. You know I don't like him, and he
doesn't like me any better. I warn you, if he ever tries to bite
me I'll put a bullet right through his skull ..."
Annette's own eyes narrowed viciously before he had hardly
gotten the words out of his mouth. "And I'll put one through
yours, damn you, if you ever try to lay a hand on him!" she spat
through her teeth.
Once more, the ugly little man gaped at his only child, but
this time in shocked disbelief. For a long moment, he didn't
speak, then finally, he said: "Ma chere ... what the devil is it
that's wrong between us? Mon Dieu! You're my daughter ... my
baby ... all I have in this world ..." He started to come around
his desk but stopped at Launcelot's guttural warning. Again, he
swallowed the lump from his throat. "Look, cherie ... all I want
is your happiness, eh? Whatever I have will someday be yours ...
all yours ... everything you see around you. My God ... why do
you treat me like this ...? I mean, if you want to marry, then go
find yourself a husband ... a man ... not some godamned fairy ..."
"A man, pere ...? Like Antoine, perhaps, one you might be
able to use as a scapegoat and send to prison in your place?"
"Damnit, that's a lie and you know it ...!"
"It's the truth, and I know it ... just as I know you had
Ginny Novak murdered by your hoodlums and drove Madeleine away in
fear because you were trying to get her to share your bed ... but
she was too good for the filthy likes of you, just as my mother
was too good ..."
"Shut up! You hear, you little bitch! Shut up before I lose
my temper entirely!"
Annette laughed. "Like you did those nights when I was only
ten and eleven and you sneaked into my bedroom, and I cried when
you put your rotten hands between my legs? You used to lose your
temper with me then, too, pere, remember?"
"You ... you ungrateful slut, you!" Larreau half-screamed,
his face pale, his colorless eyes near insane with rage. "I ought
to beat you within an inch of your life ..."
"And you would, if you dared, but you don't, do you, pere?"
Annette taunted him. "Because if you lay a hand on me you know
that my Launcelot would tear you to pieces." Again, she laughed
tormentingly as she gazed with a mocking sneer at the fat little
man who was her father. And then, she watched the tears puddle in
the almost fat-hidden sockets of his eyes, feeling nothing
herself.
"Pl-Please, my baby ... there's nothing in this world I
wouldn't do for you," he pleaded softly. "Please ... try to
forgive me ... I'm your father ..."
Annette stared at him in utter disgust. At last, she turned
away and started for the door.
"Annette ... Cherie ... wait ..." he called after her.
"Please ... tell me you didn't mean these terrible things you said
..."
She paused and faced him again. "But I did, mon pere ...
every word."
"Mon Dieu!" he gulped. "You couldn't ... it's impossible!
How ... how could you marry that ... that ...?"
"Cocksucker, pere," she finished, the faint trace of a smile
playing around her mouth. "And why not? Live and let live, I say
..."
"You don't know what you're saying!" he blurted. "You're
only trying to hurt me! Don't you suppose I know what you're
doing?"
"And does it hurt, pere?"
"You little fool! He's a dope fiend ... a drug addict! You
have any idea what that means? Damn it, girl, do you?"
"If I haven't, I'll learn," she spat at him.
"How? By prostituting yourself to pay for his fixes ...?"
A last time, Annette laughed at him before leaving the room.
She said: "To pay for our fixes, pere ... and keep you in the
luxurious style to which you're accustomed."
"Annette! Come back here! You hear me? Come back here
...!"
But she didn't, and Sir Launcelot's throaty growls filled the
room as they left.
* * *
The willowy girl in the tight dark slacks and sweater with
the straight, shoulder-length raven hair enframing her face caught
his attention immediately. She was slight of build, her breasts
small but firm and pointed, boyish hips, even though her buttocks
filled the seat of the slacks with round, protruding ovalled
spheres and her thighs were full and exciting looking. She was
extremely tiny waisted which gave the illusion of feminine
curvaceousness she didn't possess. Her mouth was small and thin-
lipped, yet not unattractive, and her cheeks a hollow ivory hue
with almond shaped hazel eyes that scanned, fixed and penetrated.
The ugly, fat woman behind the bar told him her name for a ten-
dollar bill. Annette Larreau ... and Shannon lowered himself to a
table in the shadows of a corner, wetting his lips in surprise.
The picture he had seen of her had depicted a shapeless,
unattractive, sickly looking female. She was not that. As a
matter of fact, she suggested sex ... but the godamned brute of a
dog stretched out on the floor protectingly beside her was enough
to discourage any such wild thoughts. He liked dogs; he hoped to
hell he wouldn't have to kill this one.
It had taken him two weeks to grow the half-inch beard he
wore. Madeleine wasn't sure that she liked it; it irritated her
face and inner thighs, she told him, but she liked to feel its
furry softness with her hands. He really gave little thought to
her reactions; its purpose was not only a matter of disguise, but
a more fitting admittance ticket to such places as Mother Turtle's
and the other swinging spots where he had learned that the
"czar's" daughter hung out. In fact, he'd learned a hell of a lot
in the last couple of weeks, thanks to Madeleine's bank balance
and his own ingenuity. For instance, even before he was familiar
with her appearance, he had managed to obtain enough information
regarding Annette Larreau's likes and dislikes, personal habits
and companions to know that she was a little rebel who hated her
powerful papa and all he stood for, the odd-ball variety.
A good example was the scrawny, hollow-chested male with the
page-boy hair style sitting across the table from her at the
moment. He was named Armand Nicolet of the multi-buck steel
family, a playboy by trade ... a hype and pansy by desire and
whatever the hell his magnetism was it certainly couldn't be
physical, yet, he, Shannon, had turned up a rumor concerning their
impending marriage.
It didn't make sense, a stunningly attractive girl of her
standing marrying a spindly, hooked queer, but then, the longer he
lived and the more he saw of the human race, the less he
understood it; besides, it wasn't going to make any difference one
way or the other. With what he had in mind that marriage was
going to be postponed ... at least, for awhile ...
A lantern-faced individual accompanied by another of the
bull-necked, barrel-chested type, both in dark suits and dark
turtle-neck shirts, caught Shannon's attention as they slunk into
the cellar-room through the grotto-like doorway, abruptly
interrupting his immediate thoughts. Their hoodish air definitely
eliminated them as belonging, and when their eyes fell upon, and
stared fixedly at Annette Larreau and her dainty companion,
Shannon could almost feel their reason for being there, as well as
guess who might have sent them. He sensed blood and swallowed
tightly.
Armand Nicolet evidently perceived it also, for he paled
noticeably. He leaned forward, whispering to the girl across from
him who sat with her back toward the two. She took his hand, her
knuckles whitening, started to turn but evidently thought better
of it. The thin little man whispered again, his fright obvious,
then arose quickly and made toward the rear entrance. The two
hoods seeing his move started after him just as Annette stood to
block their way, while simultaneously the Great Dane came erect to
bare its teeth at their hasty, if, belligerent approach.
"What the hell!" the bull-necked one snarled, stopping dead
before the menacing, bare-fanged growl of the massive animal.
Automatically, his hand shot inside his coat, fumbling for the
weapon there. Lantern-jaw had dodged around a table to charge
after the escaping Nicolet and might have caught him if Shannon
hadn't stuck out his foot to trip the gangly one and send him
sprawling forward onto his face.
From that point, there was ample commotion, with patrons
shuffling and scampering for the sidelines as Bullneck leveled the
ugly looking gun in his hand on the Great Dane. Annette screamed
and Shannon leaped, throwing all of his weight onto the big man
and forcing the bullet to go wild. They went down with Shannon on
the other's back, the Bull-necked one's chin catching on the edge
of a chair with enough force to stun him momentarily. Quickly,
Shannon got to his feet, grabbed Annette by the hand and started
for the front entrance.
"Come on! Let's get out of here ... and tell your dog I'm a
friend! I don't like the way he's looking at me!" he snapped,
pulling her along behind him up the stairs, two at a time, to the
street. "You have a car?"
"Around the corner ... but what about Armand? They'll kill
him if they catch him ...!"
"Let's hope they don't catch him, Baby ... In the meantime, I
don't think they like me either. Let's go!"
Shannon took the wheel and they were out of the area in
minutes. He kept to the back streets, moving in no particular
direction, except further away from the shabby section where the
two hoods would be undoubtedly canvassing with blood and rage
warping their brains. After awhile, he said: "Your father
evidently doesn't like Nicolet."
He felt her eyes on him. She sat in the middle with the dog
she had called Launcelot, on her right by the window. She said:
"Do you know my father?"
"I know who he is and who you are," he replied, his eyes
fixed ahead.
For a moment she was quiet, then: "Why did you help? You
could've been shot."
"I don't like hoods who shoot dogs," he said, easing around a
corner onto a well lighted street. It was Sherbrooke East and
they were headed west.
"We both owe you a debt for helping us ... Launcelot and I,"
she said slipping her arm around the animal's neck. "Do you think
Armand got away?"
"I'd say that depends how resourceful he is. He certainly
had time enough."
"Well ..." she said, pausing momentarily. "I suppose it
won't make much difference anyway, knowing my father. They'll
find him sooner or later ... poor Armand."
Shannon made a little grunting sound. He couldn't get up any
pity for the scrawny queer. Nevertheless, he said: "I doubt if
they intend to do more than rough him up a little. Even Gaston
Larreau can't go around having men knocked off just because they
want to marry his daughter."
Again, he felt her eyes on him; it was progressing nicely, he
thought.
"How do you know that?" she asked. "I mean, about Armand and
me getting married?"
"Rumors."
"What else do you know about me?"
"That you've been on and off 'H' for the last week ... and
that young frilly fruit's been supplying you." He turned toward
her. "Are you hooked?"
She hesitated. "No ... that is, I don't think so."
"How long since you've had a fix?"
"Yesterday morning ... say, who in hell are you, anyway? How
do you know so much about me?"
"You can call me Shannon," he replied evenly. "As for the
second question ... I've been doing a little inquiring."
"Inquiring ...? Why?" There was an edge to her tone now.
"You intrigue me." He smiled over at her. "Don't get upset.
Nothing's going to happen to you. I've been trying to locate you
for a mutual friend of ours who wants very much to see you."
"Mu--Mutual friend ... of ours?" Annette said, her head
tilting questioningly to one side. "I don't understand ... Who is
this friend?"
"Madeleine Poirier."
"Madeleine?" She sat ahead in the seat. "Do you know where
she is? No one has seen her since Antoine went to prison ..."
"That's where we're going, ma'm'selle." Once more, he smiled
in her direction, his most fetching, disarming expression. "Just
relax. It's going to take us awhile to get there. All right with
you?"
"Yes ... yes, of course," she replied anxiously.
"Madeleine and I were always close. My God, I can't think of
anyone I'd rather see ... I've been so afraid that something
terrible might have happened to her ... like it did to Ginny Novak
..."
Chapter 19
Madeleine was frightened; she couldn't help it. By day, the
island was beautiful, but at night it was so terribly dark and
lonesome with Shannon gone, and the foreign, eerie sounds caused
little chills to run along her spine. Even in the luxury of the
big house with every light in the place burning she was still on
edge, and had been since he'd taken the launch to the mainland
just before sunset. Nervously, she glanced at her watch. Eleven
thirty; he'd told her to expect him shortly after midnight if
everything went well according to plan. God ...! Supposing it
hadn't? What would she do?
Mother of Jesus! She had to get those thoughts out of her
mind immediately! It would come off just as he'd planned; it had
to ... it just had to! All of her novenas she had said in church
the past week had been offered up for their success. The Blessed
Mother would never desert her; she felt confident of that. Lord,
she should have more faith. What she needed was a little drink to
steady her nerves.
She arose from the comfortable, overstuffed chair and went to
the small wicker bar, finding one of the bottles of bourbon
Shannon had brought. There was ice in the small refrigerator
beneath and several different mixes. She set about blending, half
listening to the music from the radio and thinking that one day
she and Shannon would have a lovely home like this one. And to
imagine, it was only a summer place. Some rich senator from the
states owned it and Shannon had rented it for the week for two-
hundred-and-fifty dollars, including the launch ... She paused in
her actions as she thought of that. Two-hundred-fifty dollars of
her hard earned money ... then, she laughed to herself ... a mere
drop in the bucket compared to what they were going to have soon
... just the three of them. Lord, how happy they were going to
be. She could almost cry just thinking of having her own little
Igat with her for ever and ever ... really, it was all for her ...
her sweet little baby. There was no sacrifice too great for her
to make ... Well, she'd burned her bridges now by simply
disappearing this way, leaving her place at the Salle de Venus-
Apollon, without any word to Rafael Girarde ... placing her all
into the hands of this handsome American.
Still, she didn't understand yet why they had come all the
way to Kingston before looking for a place, but her new lover had
insisted it was necessary and she hadn't argued. Nor had she been
displeased when she learned that Hyde Island was thirteen miles
out in Lake Ontario, then actually saw the picturesque, castle-
like structure that was built of field-stone and imported marbles.
The idea of being isolated on such a beautiful little paradise
with the man she loved had set her right off. Only the mail-boat
that passed once a day would be their single connection with
civilization, and then only if they signaled. Dear God, they
would make love until they were feeble; for what else was there to
do but a bit of fishing and swimming? And so they had for two
solid days and nights, not even dressing except for the negligee
that she presently wore. God, it had been so wonderful ... and
she loved him so much. There had never been anyone like her
Shannon ... absolutely no one.
The mere thought of his lean virile body next to her own was
sufficient to arouse tiny, exciting tingles in her loins and
belly. She picked up her drink from the bar, the movement causing
the gauzy material of her negligee to graze against the suddenly
distended nipples of her full breasts tauntingly. She shivered
from the erotic effect and walked back to her chair, lifting her
feet onto the ottoman and stretching out. The gossamery material
fell away from her long shapely calves and thighs with a whisper
and she looked down at herself narcissistically, the dark velvety
down sprinkled over the V of her mound enticing her. She lifted
the glass to her moist lips and consumed half of it, while the
soft, romantic listening music from the radio created an
enrapturing mood.
God ... if you were here right at this moment! Shannon ...
Shannon ... I'd lick you to death! Mon cher ... how I love you!
Once more, she drank from the glass, then set it on the table
beside her, closing her eyes as her hands found her own waist and
moved upward over the slight delineation of her ribs to her heavy,
now-throbbing breasts, cupping and lifting them beneath the
flimsiness of her gown until the pointed, hardened nipples stood
out like frozen red berries. Her long fingers sought the tiny
fleshy marbles then and began to roll and tweak them
hedonistically, while her mind filled with thoughts of her Shannon
and his magnificently beautiful rod of almost always hardened
passion. Suddenly, she could taste its pungent tang and feel its
soft rubbery head against her tongue in her mouth, its heavy hot
shaft in one hand while the other cradled and squeezed his balls
reverently. Subconsciously, she lowered one hand down over the
little round bowl of her belly and through the patch of silken
hair to the now moist slit in her crotch, spreading her thighs
slightly and gently sliding her long-nailed forefinger between the
fleshy lips of her pussy into its pink wetness to tenderly slip
down through the length of her slit to the already quivering
opening of her vagina. Her breath caught in her throat at the
erotic sensations her own gentle manipulation set off inside her.
God, I'm hot, she thought. If only you were here, my lover!
Her cunt was as moist and lubricated as if he had just shot
his hot sperm up into her, and her desire was as piqued as if he
had been sitting there in front of her licking and taunting her
open loins with his fantastic tongue as he had last night. Her
breathing quickened and she spread her thighs further, drawing up
her knees slightly as she slipped her finger up inside her vagina
to the palm of her hand, then withdrew it and repeated the act
several times before letting her damp forefinger wander down the
soft, hairless crevice to the tiny little puckered hole of her
anus. This time, she drew her legs up higher and lifted her round
white buttocks while slowly, excitingly, she inserted her own
finger smoothly up into the warm rubbing depths of her rectum.
It was too much! In her mind, Shannon's wonderful prick was
jerking and squirting its hot semen into her throat ... she could
actually taste it to the point of swallowing voraciously! And
then, all of a sudden, her other hand dropped to her crotch, its
excited fingers finding her erect clitoris between the moist
swollen cunt-lips, and as she began to pummel her long finger into
her anal passage, she simultaneously tweaked, twisted and pulled
at her clitoris with the other hand ... while Shannon mentally
fucked into her face, shooting his load down her throat time and
time and time again.
It was an ecstasy all of its own! It wasn't the first time
she had done it, nor would it be the last, but never was it any
better. She slid down into the chair, her knees pulled back to
press against the pebble-like nipples of her throbbing breasts as
suddenly she inserted a second finger into her tiny rectum,
twisting and routing them in sado-masochistic delight while the
other hand pummeled with increasing vigor at the moist, pink
furrow of her ravenous cunt.
It was then that she heard the deep whirring sound of what
had to be the launch ... it could be nothing else out here! A
certain frightening tightness gripped her. She couldn't stop now!
She had to cum ... had to! It was all a moment of self
gratification, she realized, but it couldn't be denied ... not now
... not at this stage. It wasn't like actual fucking or sucking
or making love in any way ... but it was necessary ... Oh Christ,
she couldn't give the reasons ... didn't understand them ... only
that she had to cum! That was all that mattered! All ...!
Wildly, she punished her genitals, inserting a third finger
into her tightly resisting rectum to the very palm of her hand,
while her fingers raped the soft pink flesh of her cunt with the
brutalness of some fiend out of the night. The sensation was
overwhelming ... beyond belief! Her loins danced, jerked and
quivered with the ecstatic bliss of a thousand generations into
the past, as in the back of her brain the sound of the ever-
approaching launch grew louder and louder.
Mentally, she sucked Shannon's cock with clasped lips and
savage, slashing tongue and hypothetically he emptied his hot
sperm into her mouth and throat and she swallowed ravenously ...
while, at the same time, her hands tore and pounded into her cunt
and asshole with unmerciful delight.
It came onto her like that! Just as the launch sputtered and
went dead, and she realized he was tying it up at the dock. She
spasmed once ... twice ... a third time, and came with such
violent force that she was certain she'd faint. Shannon squirted
his load down her throat and the bubble burst at her crotch! Wild
sensations tore through her soft, white body and her thighs
quivered and jerked with the unbelievable release that spread
through her.
Somehow, she heard them coming up the gravel path, forced
herself erect and straightened her negligee. Her mouth hung open
loosely and she tried to close it, at the same time endeavoring to
force logical thoughts into place in her mind. She got to her
feet, her knees hardly able to support her, then started for the
door.
When she got there, the aftermath of her climax still
excitingly prevalent in her loins and belly, she saw them nearing
the house.
"I-I heard you coming," she said. "Is Annette with you?"
"I'm here," Annette replied. "Is that you, Madeleine?"
"Yes ... it's me," she heard herself say hesitantly.
"Oh God ...!" Annette said, and began to run toward the
house, Sir Launcelot galloping silently along beside her.
* * *
Madeleine was entirely unprepared for Annette's fervent
greeting; she had never felt that they were that close. The
willowy girl threw herself into her arms and hugged her tightly,
clutching Madeleine's near-naked, voluptuous body against her own
while she wept on the older girl's shoulder. With the effects of
the orgasm she had just subjected herself to still racking her
soft sensuous flesh, the proximity of Annette's smooth firm body
molded against her own seemed to rekindle the tiny prurient sparks
that had raced through her loins only moments before. Madeleine
couldn't contain the exciting little tremor that rippled over her.
She looked beyond the clinging girl into Shannon's half-smiling
face, sensing the flush to her own cheeks and hoping he wouldn't
notice it.
"Ma chere, Madeleine ... it's been so long," Annette sobbed.
"Oh, how I've wondered what had become of you. I've worried so
... even feared that maybe ... maybe the same had happened to you
as to Ginny Novak."
Madeleine cradled her with conscious affection against her
swollen, firm breasts while the other continued to weep, and
Shannon watched, not displeased. It seemed that things were
running smoother than he anticipated they might ... but of course,
he hadn't unleashed the bomb yet. He hadn't much doubt but what
that was going to change the complexion of things a bit, but
presently, the matter of Launcelot bothered him. As mild and
contented as the beast appeared at the moment with his mistress'
emotional reaction to an old friend, Shannon felt safe in assuming
that the animal could become a ferocious brute at her mere
command, and he didn't intend to have to defend himself against
such odds, especially when a little ingenuity could better serve
the purpose.
"There ... there," Madeleine was saying soothingly, holding
the slender girl tight to her and stroking her long raven hair.
"It's all right, ma chere ... I'm happy to see you, too ..."
"The dog looks hungry," Shannon said. "I'll give him
something to eat, eh? Come on, Launcelot. I've got some meat in
the kitchen. Come on, boy! Come on!"
The great dog stood fast, eyeing Shannon closely but not
moving from his mistress' side. Shannon continued to coax, but it
was useless. Then, the girl separated and Madeleine drew her
wispy negligee tight over her breasts uneasily as Annette wiped at
her eyes and noticed seemingly for the first time the minimum
covering the other wore. The sight both surprised and embarrassed
her, but for a long moment her deep hazel-eyes dwelled there
before she could tear them away. Finally, she said: "Were ...
were you talking to me, Shannon?"
"I was going to feed the dog something, but he's stubborn ...
doesn't want to go with me."
Annette managed a little smile. "Launcelot's very faithful.
He won't obey anyone but me." She bent down and kissed the big
dog's massive head. "There, baby, go with Shannon. He's going to
feed you. Go!"
Madeleine heard him whimper and watched him follow Shannon
toward the kitchen. She was well aware of the plan to lock the
brute in a back room and feed him doctored meat that would put him
temporarily to sleep. Her Shannon had thought of everything ...
"He is your lover, this Shannon?" Annette addressed her in
French.
"Oui. Soon, we'll be married," Madeleine replied, then
crossed the room toward the bar. She swallowed tightly. She had
never realized that Antoine's wife possessed such an enticing
figure ... nor had she ever felt such erotic stimulation at the
sight of another woman's near naked flesh before. Again, she
swallowed. She said: "He ... your Shannon ... he came to our
rescue tonight. Some of mon pere's ruffians were after a young
man I was with ... He saved all of us, this Shannon ... at least,
I hope Armand is all right ..."
Madeleine wasn't listening. She poured bourbon into a glass
nervously and added ice and water without asking. Her mind was in
a state of thorough confusion. God, how she would like to throw
herself into Shannon's arms right at that moment, and have him
carry her upstairs to their bed ... forget all of this horrible
ordeal before them ... just make love. She needed him so badly;
her whole body was alive once again with the vibrant tingling
Annette's physical closeness had re-instigated inside her. Mon
Dieu, it was insane that another woman's body could so set her off
...
"There ... he's eating," said Shannon joining them, his firm
jaw fixed tightly. "Then, I expect he'll sleep for awhile ... at
least I hope the hell he will." He walked to the center of the
room and stood there looking down at Annette, then over to
Madeleine behind the bar. "You can fix me one of those, too,
Baby." His eyes swung back to Annette, and he said: "Has she told
you anything?"
Annette Larreau stared at him. She wasn't certain whether a
smile was in order or not, so in it's place she offered a head-
tilted half-smile. She looked to Madeleine, then back to this
handsome man who had played Galahad earlier. "I-I'm afraid I
don't understand ...? Was she supposed to tell me something,
M'sieu' Shannon?"
Shannon returned her stare with a level one of his own.
"You're being kidnapped, Ma'm'selle. Be nice, cooperate, do as
you're told and don't try anything. That way, no harm'll come to
you."
Annette continued to gaze at him. She was trying to fathom
the joke ... he wasn't smiling. She glanced at Madeleine, but the
blonde-haired girl wouldn't look at her. Again, her attention
snapped back to Shannon. She managed: "I ... I don't understand
...?"
"You will ... in awhile," he said, matter-of-factly. "It's
not a joke or trick ... I'm holding you for ransom, Baby, and I
expect your cooperation ... otherwise, we might have
difficulties."
"R-Ransom? You mean ... you mean that I ... I'm being
kidnapped ... right now ...?"
"Right now," said Shannon, walking to the bar to pick up both
of their drinks. He returned and handed it to her, a bit
surprised when she accepted it as if she were attending some sort
of cocktail party. "Like I said, Baby, it's not a joke ... but
the beginning of a hard and fast deal with your father." He lifted
the glass to his lips and drank, then swallowed. "I expect to get
a half-million dollars for your trim little body ... alive I hope
papa feels it's worth it."
Annette could only ogle him with riveted eye. It had to be
some sort of farce; it couldn't be a reality! Why ... why ... he
had even helped her ... and ... and tripped the man chasing Armand
...! It was crazy ... but ... but the expression on his face ...
and the way that Madeleine was shunning her ... They meant it!
They honest-to-God meant it! She blurted: "What did you do to
Launcelot?"
Shannon caught her wrist as she started to gain her feet. He
handled her gently. "He's all right," he said. "He'll sleep for
awhile, but he's perfectly all right."
Damn him! If he'd hurt Launcelot ...! Automatically, her
thin lips drew back away from her small white teeth. "I'll kill
you if you've hurt him, Shannon! I swear, I'll kill you ..."
"The dog's all right, I said," Shannon snapped, raising his
glass once more. "Enough of that crap. Let's get a couple of
things straight, eh, little girl? You're not going to be able to
do anything unless your old man comes through. This isn't a game
we're playing ... it's for keeps. You try anything ... and I'll
have to hurt you ... I don't want to do that. Your papa refuses
to pay ... well, he just hadn't better ..."
"Or, you'll send me home in a basket, Shannon?" she said,
looking right up into his face. Shannon said nothing and she
turned to Madeleine who had not moved from behind the bar. "And
you, Madeleine ...? Nothing to add? Like ... what a fool I made
of myself at seeing you after all this time ...?"
Madeleine gulped from her own glass. Her negligee had fallen
open almost to her waist and her magnificent breasts stood out,
exposed before them in her next-to-nakedness. She kept her eyes
from the girl and poured the drink into her. After a moment, she
said in a forced, clear, crisp voice: "Do as he says and you won't
be harmed, Annette ... I promise you ..."
"You promise me?" Annette snapped. Her small, thin mouth
twisted in a distorted smile. "Now that's funny ... really
funny."
"Maybe you've a warped sense of humor." Shannon said
irritably.
"Perhaps I have," replied Annette, her humorless smirk
advancing into a hollow little laugh. "But I was imagining the
look on my father's face when he's informed of this. I don't
believe he's going to like it very much, M'sieu' Shannon ... not
very much at all ... but then, I suppose you've both taken that
into consideration."
"Don't needle me, Baby," Shannon hissed. "I don't scare easy
... and you better hope that your daddy's emotions don't cause him
to try the wrong thing, eh?"
Annette looked up at him unwaveringly. "Do you know very
much about my father, M'sieu'?" she asked, a trace of her smile
still evident. "I'm certain that she does," the girl added with
an indicative nod of her head toward Madeleine. "And that's what
surprises me, I guess."
"I know enough about him to gamble that he'll pay. You're
the apple of his eye, Baby ... all he had left in the world," said
Shannon, finishing his drink. "He may be filth, but I'm betting
he still had that much decency."
Annette studied him for a long moment, until finally her head
dropped and her slender body made a little convulsive shudder.
Madeleine went to her then, lowering herself onto the arm of her
chair and running her hand over the girl's long dark hair
soothingly. Annette leaned against her, turning her face toward,
and burying it between, Madeleine's firm full breasts. She wept
quietly.
"All right," Shannon said. "I guess we understand one
another. You'll be able to use the house, but you won't go
outside of it. Don't try anything and I won't have to lock you
up. You're thirteen miles from another living soul except us, and
unless you're a hell of a swimmer I wouldn't chance that avenue.
Just relax and make the best of it; we'll treat you properly.
"Madeleine, you two are going to be inseparable for the next
few days," he said. "I want you with her every minute. You'll
walk, sleep and eat together, understand?"
"Oui ... but what about you? Where will you sleep?"
Madeleine questioned immediately.
Shannon grinned. "Don't worry, angel ... I'll be close by
... once I get the wheels in operation. Now, take her upstairs
for the night. I've got some business to attend to."
Madeleine responded without further question and Shannon
watched them climb the wide staircase, the slender girl being
supported by the other's arm around her waist. Annette was still
sobbing and that pleased him. She wouldn't try anything; he was
certain ... but at the moment he was more taken with the
voluptuous outline of Madeleine's delectable body through the
gauzy negligee as she ascended the stairs. The provocative roll
of her hips and buttocks, the sleek movement of her shapely legs
and slender waist caused him to swallow tightly and his member
stirred excitedly in his pants. Christ, how he'd like some of
that right now ... but it was going to have to keep until after he
went to the mainland and made his phone call to Larreau ... then
... He grinned to himself. Some wild ideas were forming in his
mind.
Chapter 20
Annette Larreau was more enraged than fear-stricken; her
pride had been severely damaged. She felt like a complete idiot,
having fallen right into their plot as innocently as a lamb being
led to slaughter. She couldn't imagine how she might have
responded differently; nevertheless, she felt the perfect fool,
and it wasn't in her nature to accept that without some sort of
retaliation. Thus, although her tears were for the most part
tears of anger, the larger portion were pretended, in an effort to
gain additional time to think.
She felt that Madeleine wasn't in complete accord with her
lover, at least, if she was, her tender, emotional nature was
showing through. She had led Annette to the bed, helped her onto
it and lay down beside her, cuddling the younger girl protectively
to her and continuing to stroke her long dark hair. Annette
couldn't help the exciting little fermentations she sensed at the
other's naked, full and soft, perfumed breasts against her cheek,
and it was then that the first thoughts of a wild plan crossed her
mind.
Launcelot was still awake; she could hear him bark
occasionally. She wasn't surprised. The animal had always been
finicky about his food and would detect and refuse the slightest
of tainted or tampered-with meats. If only she could get down
stairs and free him ... that would change the complexion of things
in a hurry ... yet, how was she going to get away from Madeleine
to do it? She doubted that she could overpower the older, larger
girl ... but ... there might be another way ... Dear God ... she
had never done anything like that in her life ... not with another
woman ... still, as wicked as it seemed, she was not repulsed by
the idea ... in fact, there was a certain lascivious stimulation
that rippled through her at the mere thought, and suddenly, as if
of their own volition, she felt her free arm creep around
Madeleine's slender waist outside the sheer negligee, her own
long, slender fingers trailing lightly over the silky material to
feel the warmth of the soft flesh beneath immediately and
vibrantly respond to her touch, while with her other arm and hand
in under her, she eased those fingers forward to graze and brush
with taunting delicateness the smooth resilient flesh of the
other's heavy smooth rounded breasts.
Madeleine tensed and made an audible little gasping sound at
the tantalizing contact of her still-swollen breasts with the
girl's long slender fingers. Her own reaction embarrassed her:
that another girl could stimulate her this way was absurd. It was
simply the aftermath of the forbidden pleasure she had enjoyed
while she was waiting for them to arrive ... besides, Annette had
meant nothing ... the poor girl was simply overwrought at her
sudden situation was all.
"Cherie, listen to me," Madeleine whispered while
simultaneously she ran her hand over the girl's long silken hair.
"It'll be all right. You mustn't let yourself get upset like
this. Think of it this way: how many people has your father
inflicted his horrors upon? Believe me ma chere, nothing is going
to happen to you. I promise ... I won't let anyone hurt you ..."
Slowly, Annette raised her face so that her damp eyes looked
upward into Madeleine's dark ones. She pressed her willowy body
tighter against the near-naked, soft contours of the larger girl,
molding herself to them while her hand clasped with open palm at
her back and the other opened slowly to cup with gentle fingers
Madeleine's firm erect breast.
Once more, Madeleine gasped, only this time she felt herself
automatically maneuvering Annette's long, supple body tightly to
her while she pressed her own curvaceous form against it. She
bent her head downward as Annette raised hers, both of them
straining until their lips met, gently at first, each feeling the
full sharp delineated imprint of the other, and then more
furiously.
Both were rigid at first, confused, finally relaxing under
the pressure, their tongues meeting at the point of contact, their
bodies following it up, beginning to undulate and rub briskly
against one another, their loins endeavoring to meet as were their
lips.
"Oh God, Madeleine," Annette breathed in French, all of her
brief, fore-laid plans momentarily forgotten. "I ... I don't know
what's come over me ... you're ... you're lovely ..."
"Don't ... don't speak," said Madeleine, forcing her tiny
pink tongue into the offered small, receptive mouth, while at the
same time her hands began to caress the other's smaller breasts
outside her clothing, and traverse down her ribs to the swell of
her hips there to gently cup and massage Annette's firm, warm-
fleshed buttocks.
Annette felt completely bewildered, both aggressive and
passive; she hadn't expected it to go this way at all. An odd
feeling was tormenting her stomach, and she suspected that
Madeleine might be experiencing the same. The intimate touch of
another woman had both excited and revolted her, the combined
effect of the two powerful emotions leaving her nearly helpless to
act. Her initial plan was floating about in her brain, hardly
making heads or tails at the moment. She doubted that Madeleine
was a lesbian ... in fact, felt certain she was not, anymore than
she, herself, had ever felt such desires ... yet, there was no
questions of what was happening between them ...
"Let's take off your clothes," Madeleine said. "My God,
hurry, take them off ... let me ... let me!"
Annette felt completely bewildered. She wanted whatever was
to come, just as she had wanted her first "fix" of heroin. She
lay back and let Madeleine undress her with trembling hands. In
seconds, she was naked and Madeleine had removed her negligee.
She felt her slim, firm, willowy body quiver with anticipation and
closed her eyes as movements took place on the bed that jostled
her lightly. Then Madeleine's hand reached out to touch and
caress her small, firm breast and Annette experienced another wild
little sensation. She moaned behind her closed eyes, feeling the
long, gentle, slim fingers catching at her nipple, rolling and
squeezing it in a tender understanding way that only a woman could
know. She sensed her whole being quiver at the lewd forbiddenness
of their performance. She'd given herself to perverted
gratification before with Launcelot, Armand and others, but
nothing in her makeup had ever accepted Saphism, yet at that
moment her whole body was alive with a growing lust, and she
couldn't, had she wanted to, resist the voluptuous girl's
advances.
The alien fingers crept over her like spiders as they gently
rolled her onto her back, her head against the pillow. She
nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as she
felt Madeleine's soft, lipstick-tasting mouth engulf the nipple of
her left breast, all of the brownish areola and the hard berry-
like nipple with a swiftly flickering tongue that sent urgent,
taunting messages radiating outward along nerves of her brain ...
to sweet conditioned responses.
Slowly, Madeleine slithered up her sleek, vibrant body until
their faces were level with each other, and her thigh crept along
Annette's entwining around it, her soft curling fleece of pubic
hair brushing warmly against that of her partner. Again, her lips
found Annette's with an agile, pliant, soft, sweet, knowing
possession, and her tongue fluttered into her mouth.
Even though there was still shame and fleeting moments of
revulsion inside her at the mere thought of their licentious
doings, the young Annette couldn't help responding. She sucked at
the invading tongue as Madeleine's hand trailed over her passion-
filled body with fascinating touches, running over her breasts,
her sides and back, their bodies finally locking together as the
caressing hand reached her buttocks and pulled them apart to
stroke excitingly at her tiny puckered anus with delicate, knowing
fingers.
At last, Madeleine raised above her, taking Annette's left
breast in her hand, her fingers teasing the palpitating, distended
nipple. She let her eye rove over the younger girl's slender,
supple nakedness in confused delight. Finally, her voice
trembling as she said: "I--I have never done this before, ma chere
... Mon Dieu ... do you believe me? The ... the very touch of
your warm, smooth skin is driving me wild ... I ... I don't know
what's come over me ... but I want to bring you happiness ... I
must ... do ... do you understand that?"
"O--Oui, cherie," Annette hissed, "I--I do understand ... I
want you to ... I want you to! And then ... I'll make you happy
...!"
"Oh ... Oh God ..." Madeleine moaned breathlessly. "Oui ...
we will make each other happy, cherie. I ... I'm going to make
you cum as no man ever could ...! I know ... I know where a woman
likes to be touched ...!"
"Ohhhh, Oui ... s'il vous plait, ma chere, ... Hurry!
Hurry!" Annette whimpered up into Madeleine's panting face,
watching and waiting tensely as the blonde girl began to slide
away ... down her trembling, passion-incited body.
Slowly, she raised her head to watch in half antipathetic
captivation as Madeleine suddenly nestled her face into the hollow
of her slightly spread thighs. Immediately, she was nearly
overcome with wild, erotic sensations that danced and rippled
through her loins and belly as she felt soft kisses along the hot
flesh of her inner-thighs, felt the warm puffs of breath and then
... the magic, wet contact of Madeleine's tongue licking the soft,
fleece-lined cleft as if experimentally ... simply licking in long
grazing strokes from the bottom to the top, not entering, but
causing an involuntary, slight lifting of Annette's loins with
each tantalizing up-lick of tongue on her sensitive labia.
Annette felt her clitoris quivering into hardness and knew
that it was peeking out from its hooded little canopy, enjoying
the first stab of ecstatic bliss as the tiny pink tongue grazed
it. She expelled her breath with a hissing sound, rolling her
head back and forth on the pillow, while Madeleine, growing
braver, eased her tongue inside the rapidly moistening split to
draw it upward from the very vaginal mouth ... upward toward the
tingling bud of her clitoris.
Annette's throat began to work insanely. She held her
breath, then exhaled sharply at the delicious contact ... and
suddenly, there came new delights.
Madeleine, whose own soft, white loins were alive with little
tongues of ever-increasing, carnal flame at the unexplainable and
uncontrollable desires racing through her, hungrily pressed her
lips closer, separating the soft, fleshy, hair-sprinkled flanges
of Annette's tight vaginal slit, reaching up simultaneously with
both hands to caress the small and firm erect breasts, while her
mouth became ravenous, open and hot, nothing but tongue invading
the seething, wet cunt before it, nothing but tongue lashing at
the erect clitoris, tongue everywhere in the willowy girl's
throbbing pussy, slippery in the lubricating juices mixed with her
own saliva ... lizard-like in the rapidly dilating vagina, and
always returning to the sensitive, tingling clitoris.
Annette moaned passionately while ripples of lust-incited
enchantment convulsed her smooth, sensuous flesh. She began to
pant explosively and drew back her legs, thrusting her crotch
upward lewdly to bring the magic tongue tighter into the quivering
center of her body.
Madeleine was gasping, sucking air in short surges, never
breaking the fervent, swirling contact of her eager mouth, tongue
and lips. Even her nose was buried, immersed in the moist, pink,
velvety flesh of Annette's now steaming cunt.
"Ooohhhh ... Oooohhh ... cherie! It's too much ... I can't
stand it!" Annette wailed. "Oooohhhhhh ...!" Her voice died away
in a strangled mixture of sob and sigh and then broke out once
more in a thin, high pitched whine as her passion began to
overflow all bounds she had ever known and swept through her loins
with the raging fury of a prairie fire. She twisted in the grip
of her sweet agony, jerked and writhed, but didn't break with the
open, sucking mouth glued to her cunt, while the flickering,
enrapturing tongue played like summer lightning over her clitoris,
sending the sharp forks of jagged electricity through her body to
her confused, if, elated brain.
Frantically, she endured the pleasure, gasping, groaning,
clutching at Madeleine's long, blonde tresses with clawing fingers
... at last, shuddering violently, then relaxing ... with spaced
convulsing jerks as Madeleine continued to lick and suck, refusing
to end it.
Madeleine's own desire had reached such a point that she
doubted if she could bear it much longer. Her soft round belly
and inflamed loins were quivering hotly in their craving need for
fulfillment. She could feel the moisture seeping readily in
little rivulets from her own excited, swollen cunt-lips, yet, she
did not want to give up the ecstatic joy that Annette's luscious,
tight, moist pussy was giving her, and though she eased away from
the other's clitoris, she plunged her tongue into the vagina,
tasting the slightly acid-like secretion, licking passionately the
now-flushed and swollen cunt-lips.
"Mon Dieu!" Annette exclaimed, drawing shuddering breaths.
She was no longer certain if she had cum or was cumming, the
breath-taking sensations spiraling constantly through her
pleasure-racked body having arrived at a point of continuous flow,
without interruption, until she was almost completely enervated.
She couldn't push Madeleine's head away, nor could she close her
thighs. Dear God, she was going to lose her mind! She sobbed
aloud and Madeleine returned to her wild tonguing of the hard
little bud of her clitoris, making her convulse as her stomach
muscles went rigid and her hands locked around the blonde head ...
wanting, yet not wanting, her to stop. Once more, she spasmed
inside, her orgasm as gentle as a runaway freight car, her heart
slamming wildly in her chest, her mind awash in the momentary
bliss as little animal-like sounds gurgled up from deep in her
throat, while her eyes glazed and her mouth hung limply open.
Still, Madeleine kept on, and it was at that moment the heavy
running sounds of thundering feet came to Annette ... familiar
noises she would have quickly identified had she control of her
wits.
Sir Launcelot announced his entrance with a loud bark and in
a flash he leaped onto the bed with bared fangs, standing over
Madeleine's prone body between Annette's wide-spread thighs.
Madeleine screamed, trying to roll away, but the great animal's
fierce growl and gleaming teeth paralyzed her.
"No! No!" Annette managed, raising to her elbows. "No,
lover!" She ordered the beast. "Friend! It's all right, lover
... She's a friend ... you hear? Friend!"
Slowly, the massive dog seemed to comprehend, covering his
teeth, his round, devoted eyes darting from his mistress back to
the warm, white body of the blonde girl lying in still frozen
horror beneath him. His ears seemed to snap erect and his long
nose lifted as if his nostrils had suddenly sensed a pleasing and
arousing smell. Abruptly, he whimpered and gazed longingly at his
mistress.
Annette understood. She couldn't contain her little smile.
"Dear God! Get him off me!" Madeleine gasped in fright. "I
don't dare move ... Please, cherie ..."
"Don't worry, he won't hurt you," said Annette. "I've told
him you're a friend ... He'll do whatever I tell him ... but how
did he get free? I thought Shannon locked him in a room?"
"S--So did I," stammered Madeleine, lying unmoving on her
belly and looking pleadingly with raised eyes upward between
Annette's firm, pointed little breasts at her smiling face. "He
must have put him in the room with the broken knob ... if he
jumped up against the door, it would come open ..."
"Well, well," Annette said, continuing to smile. "So, this
changes the whole picture, doesn't it, Cherie? Now, I have my
baby with me to give me protection, eh ...?"
"P-Please, Annette ... after what I just did for you ...
would you do anything to hurt me?" Madeleine pleaded, her eyes
wide with both fear and mental hurt. "I thought that we ... that
you ..."
She didn't finish and Annette said: "That I'd bring you
pleasure as you did me? Wasn't that what we said, Cherie?"
"Oui ... but I don't care now ... I'm too upset," said
Madeleine, jerking beneath the cold wet nose of the great animal
above her who had suddenly began to sniff at the smooth white
crevice of her buttocks and downward toward her loins between her
slightly spread thighs. She cringed at the damp, grazing touch,
endeavoring to draw her legs together, but thinking better of the
move as Launcelot let off a wicked growl.
"Mon Dieu, cherie! Please call him off me ...!"
"Ahhh ... but no, Cherie," Annette replied, an evil, if,
delightful little twist contorting her attractive, thin-lipped
mouth. "We promised each other pleasure ... now it's your turn,
as well as my lover's, eh?"
Madeleine continued to gape at the obscenely sprawled girl
beneath her who seemed to be suddenly taking almost sadistic
pleasure in her fear-striken state. Whatever the girl meant, she
had no idea, for certainly any desire she'd felt before this beast
had burst into the room to stand astraddle of her had long since
dissipated ...
My God! The brute was licking her ... licking between her
legs at her naked, defenseless genitals! Mother of God! She
blurted: "Stop him, Annette! Can't you see what he's doing?"
"Of course, I can see, ma cherie," Annette laughed excitedly.
"Don't you understand yet? My little pet wants some loving,
cherie, eh? And I can assure you, he's the finest lover you've
ever had ... believe me, I know."
Madeleine continued to stare in disbelief. Was she losing
her mind entirely? Did ... did Annette intend that she should
avail herself to this animal ... like ... like some rutting canine
bitch ...?
"You see, ma cherie, he's picked up the scent of your excited
little pussy, and I doubt if anything could stop him now," Annette
advised, her aroused little smile never leaving her. "In fact,
should you try ... I wouldn't be responsible for what he might do
to you. No, cherie, there's no way out of it ... so I'd advise
you to get up on your knees with your lovely little round ass high
in the air ... and the sooner the better."
"Mon Dieu, Annette! You can't mean it ..."
"Do as I say, damn you!" Annette snapped, her smile fading
quickly. "Up onto your knees!"
And Madeleine did, her mind abruptly whirling in a daze as
she heard the giant animal expound an almost lusty, savage growl
behind her.
* * *
Earlier, Shannon had chosen a small lakeside village from
which to make his first call, and studied his directions on the
navigation map he had acquired, so that he would have no
difficulty in piloting the launch at night. The distance was five
miles greater than their regular mainland dock, but he didn't mind
that. The near-cold breeze whipped up from the speed of the
launch was invigorating, especially after the aroused hard prick
he had left the island with. He needed something of this nature
to cool his throbbing loins down. Two exciting bitches under one
roof was a little more than he could handle yet, after five years
of nothing but hand action.
Christ, he couldn't help the desire this Larreau broad raised
inside him. Even though he hadn't intended that anything like
that should happen, there was something about her trim figure ...
that tight ass and those firm little tits that set him off. Damn,
how he'd like to get into her. He'd bet his last buck that she
had the snuggest little cunt he would ever come across, and he'd
wager she'd let him at it if he tried under different
circumstances. So ... maybe he'd just have to take it by force
... Of course, Madeleine wasn't going to like that, but he guessed
he could handle her if that need be. There was hardly any room
left in his life for gentleness; a man took what he wanted when he
wanted it, or forever went without, otherwise, he was a fool. And
who knew better than did he?
In actuality, Shannon figured he had committed one crime in
his existence, one grave offense against the written law, and for
that he had paid with five years of his life. He'd balanced the
columns. In his mind, he was clean with society; and now, with
this episode he was cleverly manipulating, he would still be clean
and balanced. It was no violation to extort money from a pig like
Larreau who had come by it evilly himself. He thought of it as
kind of a Robinhood type of retaliation, with no stigma attached,
and by the time he reached the town dock of Inlet, he had almost
convinced himself that he was about to do society a favor.
He pulled the jacket collar higher around his neck and walked
along the street considering the cool temperature of the lake area
in comparison to the heat of Montreal. The little town, a summer-
resort village, was deserted at this hour. He walked until he
came to a public phone booth, aware that the call could be traced,
but that it meant nothing. The next one he would make from
Summerton, seven miles away, and right now this hamlet was
completely asleep. He wasn't worried about being seen. He
stepped into the booth, found change, and dialed his number.
Eventually, he reached his party.
"M'sieu' Larreau?"
"Oui," a sleepy, irritated voice growled.
"Listen very carefully, Larreau," Shannon spoke slowly, his
hand cupped between his lips and the mouthpiece. "Your daughter's
been kidnapped. She's safe. If you do as you're told, she'll
stay safe, and be returned to you in that condition."
"Who ...? What the hell is this ... some kind of joke, eh?"
"It's no joke, Larreau! So don't start laughing too early!
We've got your daughter. You try anything, or bring the police
into it ... you'll never see her alive again!"
"M--My daughter ...? Annette ...? Christ! The hell you say
... damnit! Who is this?"
"I repeat, Larreau. We're holding your daughter. It's going
to cost you five-hundred-thousand dollars ... a half-million bucks
... is she worth that to you?"
"You're making a mistake, damn you ... whoever you are ..."
"A half-million dollars ... clear, Larreau?" Shannon spat
into the telephone.
"O--Oui ... it's clear."
"You try anything at all to trace us, or bring the police in
... and we'll send her home to you in a bag ... all in little
pieces, Larreau. You understand me?"
"All right ... all right ... Christ, you make yourself
clear," the fat little crime czar managed.
"Good. I'll contact you again soon. At that time, I'll give
you directions regarding the money. You better have it ready at a
moment's notice ... you'll have only a short time to deliver it.
Clear?"
"Y ... You're making a mistake, whoever in hell you are!"
Larreau snarled at him. "I warn you ..."
"Don't bother, slob. And don't you make any mistakes ...
unless you want a jig-saw puzzle for a daughter. Now ... do we
understand one another?"
Silence ... then: "Oui ... it's clear."
Shannon hung up. He stepped out onto the street and took a
long breath. So ... the game was on; he was committed. He
flipped up his jacket collar, lighted a cigarette and walked back
toward the town landing. Now, to the island for some fun and
games.
* * *
Madeleine could not control her trembling as the huge
muscular animal sniffed hungrily at her naked genitals. She
looked to Annette who was smiling, hardly daring to breath. She
wanted to scream ... but the great animal's wet nose against her
anus shocked the urge out of her and automatically she lurched
forward. Abruptly, she felt his tongue snake out and lick wetly
up and down the crevice of her buttocks. His tongue taunted her
tiny anal ring and she had to set herself against the sudden
sensations that soared through her. She started to protest
audibly and then the great dane began lightly licking her vaginal
slit. She felt his tongue running the full length of it as
simultaneously she felt Annette's hand on her naked shoulder.
"Spread your legs wider apart, Cherie. Wider!" she ordered.
"Open your cunt to him!"
"Mon Dieu, Annette! What are you saying ...?"
"Do as I tell you!" snapped Annette; and she did, in
uncontrollable fear.
Sir Launcelot whimpered excitedly, running his tongue the
full distance of her open crotch, from the tightly clenched hole
of her puckered anus, down beneath the taut pink edges of her
pussy, even to the base of her mound of silken hair where it
penetrated wetly to flick against her clitoris. Again and again,
he repeated the act, his tongue laving through her soft, hair-
covered genitals savagely, spreading her open in the tenderest
parts until she began to twitch and jerk noticeably at his lapping
and sniffing of her loins.
Madeleine continued to gape at Annette, but actually
perceived her only in brief, fleeting moments as the unbelievable
jolts of erotic sensation began to take command of her.
Mon Dieu ...!
She gasped aloud as Launcelot drew his long, thick tongue the
entire measure of her cunt. Subconsciously, she clenched her eyes
tightly shut and inched her knees a little farther apart to open
the pink, gently quivering gap further to him. His animal tongue
thrust up the moist hair-lined fissure, tingling at the mouth of
her vagina, ravishing her now defenseless genitals mercilessly.
She moaned openly and suddenly saw Annette squirming further down
beneath her ... drawing her slender white legs back to her breasts
so that her own moist cunt was completely exposed to her ... only
inches from her face.
And then, it happened! Sir Launcelot mounted her ... his
muscular, furry body crowding in toward her buttocks, his forelegs
clutching at her hips. The beautiful animal's lashing, wet tongue
had set her loins ablaze again with desire and as she turned her
head she caught the entire reflection of their obscene act in a
full-length wall mirror; the sight of the splendid beast mounting
the sensuously spread spheres of her soft white buttocks, and the
vision of Annette lying on her back with her thighs pulled back in
lewd presentation of her open cuntal passage to be licked sending
untold licentious passion spiraling through her mind and body.
She saw the reflection of Launcelot's massive, glistening,
coral penis shoot forth from its long sheath, wet and hard, the
tapered end slipping and dancing in the moist furrow of her cunt,
and she felt the strong animal body jerk against her as he tried
to penetrate her vagina with the thick, pointed shaft.
"Help him, Cherie," Annette instructed as she, too, watched
in lewd delight their lascivious reflection in the mirror, her
hand slipping down between her raised thighs to probe and rub and
tweak, her long index finger finally easing in and out, in and
out, in and out, between the wet lubricated lips of her gently
contracting vagina.
With an unrestrained moan, Madeleine shifted her round, white
buttocks in searching little circles attempting to capture
Launcelot's lengthening prick, the tension within her mounting to
a near unbearable peak. She wanted the long slippery shaft inside
her ... had to have it inside her before she lost her mind with
her building need. Frantically, she reached down through the
beautiful arch of her thighs and crotch, grasping the moist,
rubbery spear of hard animal flesh and guided its throbbing tip
toward her pink, damp vagina. Immediately, he thrust, spreading
her slightly opened cunt wider and wider as with a snarl he buried
his long animal cock deep up into the squirming pink hole between
her legs.
"Aaaaggghhhhhh!" she grunted gutturally, her breath literally
bursting from her lungs. "Oooohhhhggggggg!"
Annette watched in lustful fascination as the thick scarlet
shaft slithered forward with a wet charge until it was sunk to the
hilt, Launcelot's hairy balls swinging lewdly down beneath
Madeleine's damp raven pubic hair.
"Oh ... Oh ... Mon Dieu!" Madeleine moaned, her eyes wide but
glazed as the brute fucked into her from behind while she stared
down at Annette's several fingers moving sleekly in and out of her
own pink, wide-split cunt. "Oooohhh ... oooohhhhh ... ooohhhhh,"
she chanted, almost in relief as she began to move backward
rhythmically to meet the animal's powerful, long strokes into her.
Annette watched as if mesmerized, her fingers pummeling her
tingling, wet pussy while her eyes remained fixed on Madeleine's
beautiful, contorted face, completely enraptured by the delicious
dog-fucking Launcelot was giving her. She watched with carnal
entrancement the lovely girl's full taut breasts dancing and
swaying beneath her writhing torso like pendulous, fleshy melons,
keeping tempo with Sir Launcelot's magnificent cock skewering
deeper and deeper into her from behind, his muscular body ramming
and thudding resoundingly between her luscious, wide-spread
buttocks, his prick a merciless piston of glistening rigid animal
flesh sinking to its full depth deep into her soft white belly.
Suddenly, Annette wound her fingers in Madeleine's long hair
and drew her face downward into her opened, damp crotch, holding
her gently until she felt the girl's hot, wet tongue begin to lick
the moist, pink flesh ... the roundness of her lips sucking wildly
at her clitoris ... the length of her tongue darting up into her
vagina, slashing, swirling, probing ... and she felt the hot
breaths coming in tight gasps against her pink, sensitive flesh as
Madeleine rotated her buttocks furiously, grinding them back
against the animal like a hungry bitch in heat.
The erotic lewd sight had become more than Annette could
endure; she couldn't hold back the climax that was about to erupt
inside her from the voracious mouthing of her cunt that Madeleine
was administering. She tossed back her head and wailed deeply as
the needle-like pressure in her loins and belly peaked to send
waves of rapacious erotic pleasure soaring through her, causing
her legs to jerk out spasmodically on either side of Madeleine's
golden head cradled face-first in the crotch of her wide-spread
legs.
And suddenly, did Madeleine, too, lift her head and cried out
a gurgling sound from deep in her chest. Her glazed dark eyes
grew large and round as she whimpered: "Mon Dieu ... It's
beautiful! Oh God ... fuck me! Fuck me, you magnificent animal
...! Oh ... Oooohhhh ...!" and her voice died in a strangled
mixture of sob and sigh, her head twisting from side to side, her
long blonde hair flailing wildly as she began the first spasms of
orgasms, screwing her buttocks back onto the thick, driving,
animal cock with desperate fury.
Annette watched in the mirror as Launcelot's tongue hung
loosely from the side of his great open jaws, panting and dripping
its saliva on the smooth white flesh of Madeleine's voluptuous,
arched back while he fucked into the wide-spread crevice between
her wildly undulating buttocks from behind with savage animal
frenzy. Then, Madeleine shrieked and slammed her ass back against
the dog with a frantic jerk as simultaneously he thrust forward
and his prick began to spew his animal sperm deep up into her
belly with long hard spurts. Again, she screamed, and her
buttocks began to contract convulsively while Annette watched the
mirror lustfully to see the thick, white combination of animal-
human orgasmic liquid ooze from her tight cunt that was still
clasping and milking Launcelot's long, heavy prick, and thin
rivulets of the sticky fluid trickled down the smooth white
columns of her inner thighs ... until at last, she collapsed, her
head falling back to the soft cradle of Annette's crotch, her
cheek nestled against the swollen down covered mound of her moist
pussy, a long sigh of release escaping her.
Annette ran her hand through the entangled mass of silken,
blonde tinted hair and smiled down at her. She started to speak,
but never finished. Instead, Shannon, whom neither had heard
enter the house, said from the doorway: "Is this a private fucking
party ... or can anyone join in?"
Chapter 21
At first, when he'd found the open door to the room where
he'd imprisoned the dog and the animal gone, Shannon had
experienced a cold emptiness at the pit of his stomach. What the
hell had happened? Madeleine would never have let the damned
brute out, but Annette would ... if she'd gotten the chance ...
and in order to have obtained that she would've had to put
Madeleine out of commission ...
He'd ran through the house and taken the stairs three at a
time, only to come up short in the open doorway of the bedroom
where he'd ordered the girls to stay. Christ! They were there
all right, dog and all, so godamned involved in a three-way orgy
that they hadn't even heard him come pounding up the stairs. Even
Launcelot's normal protective instincts had evidently been so
overshadowed by his ruttish heat that he'd failed to detect the
newcomer's presence.
Shannon could only gape in amazement at the unbelievably
licentious sight. Both girls were completely naked: Annette
sprawled on her back with her cream-white thighs yawning wide
while Madeleine, with her beautiful round ass thrust high in the
air, lay with her face nuzzled tightly in their prisoner's wet,
down-covered genitals, her tongue licking furiously at Annette's
pink, open cunt, and mounted behind Madeleine with his forepaws
clutching at her waist and hips, his near-foot of thick scarlet
animal prick jack-hammering between her quivering, upthrust
buttocks, sinking its full length into the coral, velvety flesh of
her moist hair-fringed cunt, was the godamned Great Dane, fucking
his heart out.
In his eventful and too often wicked lifetime, Shannon had
never witnessed a more obscene sight that he could recall, nor had
his cock ever leaped into hardness any quicker than it had right
at that moment. He was damned near overcome with immediate lust
and he clutched at his swollen member inside his trousers as
Madeleine emitted a loud moan and began to chant and wail, her
head raising to toss wildly from side to side while her soft
sensuous body jerked and convulsed on the thick and squirting
animal cock that was ramming and shooting its load like a fire
hose up into her soft white belly. It was at the precise moment
that she fell forward burying her face once more in Annette's
crotch that he reached down and tore open the front of his pants,
releasing his jumping and already aching shaft. He said: "Is this
a private party ... or can anyone join in?"
Annette raised to her elbows and craned her neck to see him
in the doorway. She wasn't certain, but she doubted that
Madeleine had heard him, and as she stared in shocked surprise she
realized that the fly of his trousers was open and he was holding
his heavy-looking cock lewdly in his hand, his pelvis thrust
slightly forward. She felt her face flushing shamefully at the
thought of him standing there watching their salacious
performance, and then Launcelot interrupted with a vicious growl
and she ordered him to the floor and to silence. Meekly, the
animal obeyed as Shannon walked toward the bed gripping his long,
thick prick, and she found her eyes suddenly locked upon it in
rapidly growing fascination.
It was then that Madeleine also realized someone had entered
and sat up with a start, her mouth dropping open guiltily at the
sight of him, her immediate humiliation giving way quickly to
astonishment when she saw that he was holding his rigid, heavy rod
in his hand.
"Mon Dieu! Shannon, cheri," she gasped, her face a glowing
crimsom. "I didn't hear ... that is ... I ... we can explain ...
Wh--What are you doing ...?"
He was, in fact, undressing as fast as he could and grinning
at the same time. "What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm
getting ready to join the party, baby ... even up the score with
that dog, eh?"
"Wh--What do you mean, Cheri!" Madeleine stammered. "Please
... I couldn't help myself ..."
"No?" Shannon continued to grin as he dropped his shorts down
his long muscular legs and stood naked before the two embarrassed,
staring girls. "And that's my problem, angel ... I can't help
myself. I figure if that dog can fuck my mistress, then I can
even the score and fuck his ... logical?" His keen, hard blue eyes
narrowed lustfully and centered upon Annette's sleek willowy
nakedness. "How does that strike you, Ma'm'selle?"
"If ... if I say the word, Launcelot'll tear you to pieces,"
Annette replied sharply, but confusedly, her passion once more
aroused by the carnal sight of the thick stalk of rigid flesh
jutting out in an upward arch from his lean hairy loins, yet,
unable to accept willingly this man who had deceived her, whose
prisoner she was, and who might even be considering murdering her
if her father failed to meet his ransom demands. God, in truth,
she hated him ... and she didn't intend to be taken by a man she
hated ...
"Please, Cheri, you mustn't," pleaded Madeleine, getting off
the bed to stand between him and Annette where she lay. "Mon
Dieu, she means it, Shannon ... the animal is a killer. I
couldn't help myself ... I had to let him ..."
"Shut up!" he snapped at her, pressing her to one side not
too gently. Then, to Annette who hadn't moved except to close her
thighs: "I'm going to fuck you, doll-baby ... and if that canine
makes one move toward me I'll crush his elephant skull with a
chair. Now ... you going to take it willingly ... or do I rape
you?"
Annette couldn't avoid the tiny galvanic tingles his lewd
words raised inside her, nor control the thrill of excitement his
pledge caused to ripple along her spine. She stared at him round-
eyed, her line of vision once more fixing upon his stiff, thick
sinewed cock, and as she gaped he drew the heavy foreskin back
exposing its huge purplish, rubbery head and causing tiny droplets
of its seminal fluid to ooze from the split at its tip. A tiny
series of shudders spiraled through her and she felt the
gooseflesh standing out on her naked skin.
"D--Damn you!" she gasped finally.
"Please, Shannon ..." Madeleine tried once more, reaching for
his arm, but he shook her off and began to move slowly toward the
bed.
"Spread 'em, Baby-doll ... spread 'em wide," he hissed.
"'cause this Yankee bastard's going to fuck you like you've never
had it before ..."
"Damn you! Godamn you ...!" She groaned out between hard
clenched teeth and began to move, but Shannon climbed onto the
bed, grabbing her as she tried to roll away. Roughly, he pressed
her onto her back and forced his way between her kicking legs as
Launcelot growled and gave a start, his great muscular body tensed
and quivering, yet, unmoving in obedience to his mistress' last
command.
"How'll you have it, Baby-doll ... a fucking in the mouth or
pussy ... or maybe you'd rather take it in the ass for starters?"
Shannon hissed down at her, his weight cradled between her forced-
apart thighs, pinning her body while his big hands held hers tight
to the bed.
Annette trembled in rage, fear and hate; still, she was aware
of the hot churning desire the sight of his massive prick had re-
kindled in her belly, along with a certain twinge of shame and
humiliation that flickered through her confused mind. She
struggled, throwing her head from side to side, tears of
frustration streaming down the edges of her cheeks.
"One ... one word from me, damn you and Launcelot would kill
you!" she reminded him, spitting the words up at him between
clenched teeth.
"Don't try it, sweetheart ... not if you value the dog's
life," warned Shannon firmly. "Just answer the question ... which
way?"
"You ... you yankee bastard!" she snarled viciously, but
giving up her struggles.
"Oh God, Cheri. please don't ...?" Madeleine begged from
where she stood beside the bed gaping helplessly down at them,
realizing even as she spoke that her words were falling on deaf
ears.
"You want me to decide for you?" Shannon taunted, grinning
obscenely as he ground his rock-hard shaft against the tender,
sensitive, pink moist slit in Annette's defenseless crotch. "You
seem to like the sucking approach ... maybe, you'd like to eat a
little cock first, eh?"
"Oh God ...!" Annette moaned helplessly. "Fuck it! Go ahead
... fuck me, you yankee bastard!" she hissed at him, the fire
licking through her loins at the brutal contact with his huge
prick, spurred further by her sheer helplessness and the obscene
position in which he was holding her. "Well ...? What're you
waiting for ... an engraved invitation? Come on ... fuck my cunt!
Now!" she half-screamed up into his salaciously leering face,
wiggling her buttocks in lewd, suggestive fashion.
Shannon needed no coaxing. He let free of her hands and
reached down to draw her legs up and back over her head before she
hardly realized what was happening, pressing the toes of her feet
harshly into the mattress on either side of her shoulders. Her
tortured body was bent back double, the sudden pain of her
strained muscles raising an agonized little groan from her throat.
The glistening, flattened plane of her delightful crotch was
presented up to him to ravage as he would with his thick cock
aimed straight at her defenseless upturned split. Suddenly, his
heavy body crushed down on her twisting form, smashing her taut
breasts tightly back into her chest. His heavy rod plunged into
her unresisting cunt like a blunt fence-post, pushing the velvety
moist folds of sensitive flesh in rippling waves before its cruel
turgid head.
"Aaaauuuggghhhhhhh!" Annette grunted loudly at the sharp,
brutal impalement, even more surprised now at its heavy-veined
thickness as it soared up into her, ramming painfully against her
cervix. She winced beneath the agony, but it was only a temporary
shock that soon passed as the greedy moist walls of her vagina
clasped around the massive shaft voraciously, the hair-lined lips
slithering up wetly to devour its length to the hilt. His bloated
balls smacked hard into the wet, naked crevice of her buttocks and
she moaned in masochistic degraded humiliation at the pleasurable
pain surging through her.
Madeleine watched in sickened, if, growing fascination the
sight of Shannon's raised buttocks tensing heavily as he drove
downward with unmerciful force, sinking his sinewed prick all the
way into Annette's moist, gaping channel, until only a narrow
white stretch of it showed, wet and glistening, beneath his heavy
balls. She cringed, hearing the smack of his pelvis against the
girl's, and stared as he withdrew and thrust, withdrew and thrust
in ever-increasing rhythm, the underside of his prick's huge head
becoming visible with each withdrawal. At last, he freed
Annette's long slender legs and quickly they wrapped around his
hips, her heels tight against the cheeks of his ass, straining to
pull him back inside her. The cords on the insides of her thighs
flexed tightly as she raised her soft, down-covered genitals back
up over his spearing cock, her hollowed buttocks lifting inches
off the bed while she struggled upward desperately in her effort
to absorb the entire length of his rod back into the fleshy pink
folds of her now hungry cunt. A wet, viscid sound filled the room
as they fucked furiously and Launcelot began to whimper on the
floor beside the bed.
Madeleine felt her own belly quiver sensuously at the
lascivious scene, and her loins began to tingle once more as she
became dimly aware of her hands moving over her body lustfully.
She couldn't help herself, anymore than she could contain the
sensations that had brought about her masturbation earlier.
Abruptly, she lay down on the bed beside them and began caressing
the swollen nipple of Annette's heaving breast. This, she did
with one hand, while with the other she reached between Shannon's
legs to grasp the hot slipperiness of his plunging cock. The heat
and familiar thickness of it as it pounded savagely into Annette's
cunt aroused a welling of carnal passion to fill her, and
momentarily she began to run her finger into the soft, yielding
flesh alongside the driving shaft ... feeling it slide hotly back
and forth against the length of her probing digit.
Annette's wildly writhing body was lifting and jerking as if
completely out of control now and her moans and whimpers of
ecstatic pleasure were coming in continuous gasping breaths.
"Ooohhh ... Ooohhh ... Oui, oui ... fuck me mon cher! Damn
you! Damn you! Fuck me hard ... harder ... harder!" she wailed
chokingly.
Madeleine carefully adjusted her hand until she was able to
withdraw her finger and insert her thumb in its place; then, with
her free forefinger she began to edge her way down into the smooth
dampened crease between Annette's buttocks until she felt the tiny
puckered circle of her wildly working anus. The girl's hips
squirmed and jerked convulsively at the touch, and very gently,
Madeleine began to slowly press the tip of her finger into the
tight opening ... probing almost imperceptibly deeper and deeper
into the rubbery warmth of the small clasping orifice. Soon,
through the thin wall of hot flesh separating Annette's cunt and
rectum, she was able to feel the urgent thrusting of Shannon's
cock driving against the pressing contact of her thumb. The
sensation of lewd delight it caused within her was all that
Madeleine needed to set her off.
She lay on her side facing them, her back to the edge of the
bed where Launcelot waited, whimpering. Suddenly, she raised her
leg, opening her thighs wide as she jutted her buttocks backwards
and called: "Come, Launcelot, cheri! Come! Hurry ... here, here
...!"
Immediately, the great animal responded, poking his wet, cool
nose between her thighs to the sensitive, tingling flesh of her
exposed crotch, his long wet tongue thrusting into her well-
lubricated vulva and up the moist passageway of her cunt like a
rapacious slithering snake, ravishing her open split with
pleasure-giving delight.
At first touch of something foreign slipping into the
forbidden tender softness of her heretofore unplundered rectum,
Annette had felt a scream building in her throat ... but whatever
it was, it was being done so gently ... so very, very gently, that
instead of pain she began to experience a weird and additional
erotic pleasure ... increasing with every passing second as the
probing depths of the unknown instrument thrust its way deep up
into her nether hole ... Slowly, Shannon began to increase the
pace and length of his stroke fucking into her cunt and she felt
her whole body responding as it squirmed and writhed beneath him.
Then, he dropped her mouth to hers and she shot her tongue
upward between his lips to be sucked, and she moaned unceasingly
in passion-filled acceptance of whatever lewd or vile whim his
mind could conceive to subjugate her. Masochistically, she raised
her crotch up to him in simultaneous rhythm to his ever downward
plunge, sensing her own desire-contorted grimace of wanton joy as
her mouth opened and closed against his lips while her heart
became completely his in abject surrender.
Abruptly, the still whimpering Launcelot bounced up onto the
bed, frightening Madeleine at first, and causing her to jerk her
fingers from Annette's seething, moist genitals as she rolled onto
her back, her thighs still yawning widely, exposing her dark hair-
lined cuntal crevice to the massive beast. She raised her head to
look down between her full, erect breasts to see his great tongue
lash out and lick wetly up and down the crevice surrounding her
snug, tiny rectum, the tip burrowing slightly into the outer
fleshy anal circle. As she watched, he began to lap greedily the
narrow pink slit between her wide-spread thighs. He ran his
tongue wetly through it, from the tightly closed little anus up
over the fluted pink edges of her cunt to the erotic plexus of her
womanhood enshrined at its peak. His thick tongue spread through
the soft, fleece-covered swelling like a knife through soft melted
butter. It laved relentlessly between her wide open legs, pausing
only sporadically to lunge in a curl deeply into her. She spasmed
fitfully as she twisted and lurched under the Great Dane's tongue
lapping and lashing at her genitals.
Soft mewls of delight erupted from her until suddenly she
placed her hands to the sides of his massive head and with a deep
animalistic groan, kicked her legs back over her head, pulling his
long nose forward into her wet, throbbing vagina. His lengthy
tongue shot up her moist channel with breathtaking delight,
ravishing her upthrust cunt wildly. It was then that the feral,
babbling, half-shrieks began to stream crazily from her lips,
pleading and encouraging the dumb brute salivating between her
churning, upturned buttocks.
"Oh ... oh ... Mon Dieu! I'm going to cum ... oui ... oui
... ooohhhhhh ... lick it, damn you! Lick my cunt you fucking
beast!"
Annette barely heard Madeleine's vile screams of release as
Shannon raced madly into her own lust-incited cunt. Wildly, his
bloated sac slapped into the wet crevice separating her buttocks
and she groaned loudly at the filling of her tingling passage as
he began an even deeper, harder thrusting into her seething
crotch. Her head rolled loosely from side to side, her mouth
opened in abandoned ecstasy. It was almost there ... almost! Oh
God ... she loved him ... loved him ... oui, oui ...! His thick
expanding cock was digging into her like a pile-driver, and she
felt the cords in her neck twitch and tighten in an unmistakable
sign.
"Oh Christ ...! I'm going to ... going to cum! Now ...
Shannon, Cheri ... Oui! Fuck harder! Fuck harder, mon cher ... I
love you ... cream me ... cream me full ... I'm
cuuummmmmiiiinnnngggggg!" she gasped in a voice shrill with
passion. "I--I--I'm cuuummmiiinnnggg ... aaahhhhhhhh!"
Her hands darted behind his driving buttocks, pulling at him
frantically to draw him deeper and deeper into her spread crotch.
White, sticky liquid flowed wetly out around his still-driving
prick, spilling down the split of her buttocks to flood his balls
as they rubbed tauntingly against her tightly puckered anus.
"Oui ... oui, Cheri," cried Madeleine suddenly. "Fuck her
hard ... shoot it into her, my Shannon ...!"
Suddenly, Shannon felt Madeleine's hand between his legs, her
long nails raking gently and teasingly against the soft, sensitive
flesh of his balls, her other hand caressing his hard buttocks as
he fucked furiously into the climaxing girl. Spurred on by her
words and lewd manipulations, he dug deeper into the squirming,
hair-lined hole beneath him, once more forcing Annette's legs over
her head, pushing them farther and farther back while he hammered
into her with demonical force. Convulsive flashes of ecstatic
pain shot through his loins as the girl beneath him continued to
grunt out her climax, the juices still flowing in unchecked spurts
down the full quivering cheeks of her jerking ass.
She was near exhausted as Shannon groaned, signaling his
time, and abruptly she felt the hot waves of his sperm shooting
deep up into her dilating womb. Her head swam in depraved
sensuality as the hot, powerful squirts surged insanely into her,
filling her to the near bursting point with its milky whiteness.
The hot, wet walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped in
automatic cadence, pulling at the jerking organ like a sucking,
voraciously hungry mouth. Annette's sleek, willowy body was
drained of everything, her limbs collapsing loosely on the bed as
Shannon's grip on her legs was released. She fell into a spread-
eagle position and she sensed the heavy weight lift from her while
a cool rush of air brushed her sweat-soaked body. She wanted only
to sleep ... to sleep ... then later ... she'd tell them of her
own plan ... but she must sleep first ...
Chapter 22
Shannon was awakened in the night by a small, warm, gentle
hand wrapped around and massaging his rejuvenating shaft into a
vigorous rigid state. For a moment, his sleep fogged brain failed
him and he dwelt in a rapturous dream of sensual bliss, wherein he
lay upon a haremish couch being sexually administered to by a pair
of lovely concubines ... and then, his senses abruptly cleared, a
delightful thought immediately occurring to him ... reality was
more enticing than his dream ...
He lay between them in their naked loveliness: Madeleine
slept, her soft, voluptuous body partially curled, close against
him, her limp hand resting on his chest; Annette, on his left,
writhed gently, her long willowy form sleek and satiny as it
squirmed and pressed hotly, vibrantly to his own while her small,
slender hand continued its taunting ministrations to his ever-
hardening prick.
Finally, she whispered, her breath warm in his face: "At
last, you're awake, Cheri. I was beginning to wonder if I'd lost
my touch."
Shannon grunted softly as her small hand began to work the
heavy foreskin slowly up and down his lengthening rod. He could
feel the cool air brush against its naked, rubbery head as she
drew the thick skin down below the coronal rim, then assisted it
in its re-sheathing. He slipped his arm beneath and around her,
his big hand cupping her small but resilient firm breast and felt
the nipple harden against the palm of his hand as he drew her
snugly to him. "Don't you ever sleep?" he whispered back, kissing
the tip of her nose.
"I--I wanted to talk to you," she said.
"You've got a nice way of gaining a man's attention," he
replied and she tittered softly.
"Well ... I've got other things in mind too," she added,
pressing the wet tip of her tiny tongue into his ear.
"I'd never guess," said Shannon, cringing pleasureably before
her tantalizing tongue. "What do you want to talk about,
teasing?"
"Sh-h-h-h," she hissed, giving his now solid prick a tight
little squeeze as a galvanic chill rippled through her at the
sound and thought of the whispered lewd word and all of its
connotations. "Listen to me, Shannon, cheri ... I want to join
you ... help you, eh?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then: "Join me ...? What do
you mean?"
"Throw in with you ... both of you ... help you get the
ransom money from my father," she said quickly, excitedly. "Don't
you see? With my help, we couldn't fail ..."
"And without it, we will, eh? Is that what you're saying?"
Shannon whispered back at her.
"Maybe ... maybe not, I don't know, Cher, but no one knows
Gaston Larreau better than I do ... I know how his evil mind
works, and I believe I can out-guess him, where you might not be
so lucky because you don't understand how he thinks, eh? Doesn't
it make sense ...?"
"Why?" Shannon interrupted. "Why would you want to do this?
I mean ... we're going to take a half-million dollars from your
papa, Baby ..."
"So? You think I'm above stealing a half-million dollars
from that pig?" she hissed vehemently. "I hate and despise him
for as many reasons! He is evil ... Oh God, Shannon, Mon cher ...
that's not all," she went on, her whispering voice mellowing
suddenly. "I ... I think I love you ... and maybe even Madeleine
too ... I want to be with both of you ... forever ... is that so
crazy, eh?"
Shannon swallowed tightly; she was writhing her warm sensuous
body salaciously against him once more, her soft hand doing
marvelous things with his cock and balls ... and just the mere
thought of her triad conjugal suggestion was enough to incite the
growing lust inside him. "I ... I don't know," he said after a
moment. "Christ ... I can't think right now ... we'll have to
talk to Madeleine about it anyway ..."
"Merci, Cheri!" came a soft interrupting voice from his
right, and Shannon felt Madeleine's gorgeous contours moving
closer to caress his desire-tensing body possessively, her own
hand making warm, delightful little circles against the lean
muscles of his hairy chest. "I've been waiting for you to say
that as I lay here listening."
"You've been awake all the time?" Shannon questioned, looking
over at her in the darkness.
"Oui ... I've been listening ... and you made me happy ...
both of you," she replied. "Maybe, Annette's idea is a good one,
eh? Wouldn't we have a better chance of succeeding ...?"
"In what, making love or kidnapping?" Shannon punned.
Both girls had raised to their elbows and Annette had turned
on the small bedside lamp. They looked at one another above his
chest and Shannon read the gleams of anticipation and excitement
in their faces. Then, Madeleine's hand slithered down over his
stomach causing gooseflesh to raise on him as her fingers trailed
lightly through his pubic hair to cover Annette's hand still
grasping his now aching cock. It was the most lewd three-way pact
he had ever witnessed contracted.
"Christ!" he blurted. "You gals are driving me out of my
mind. You got that prick up from its sleep, now, what're you
going to do with it?"
For answer, Madeleine removed her hand and slowly eased down
in the bed. While Shannon watched fascinated, Annette held his
cock and Madeleine lowered her mouth down to it, abruptly
enclosing the full, pulsating glans in a soft, warm pressure. He
groaned, thrusting his loins upward automatically as the warm
moistness of her ovalled, lips closed over the throbbing sensitive
head.
Gently, Annette's small hand worked up and down the rigid
shaft while Madeleine's lips slid down to meet her clasping
fingers, and she began to suck it steadily, rhythmically ... up
and down with a twisting motion of her tongue at the peak of each
stroke.
Shannon tensed his loins and Annette leaned over him to
dangle one firm taut breast with its distended nipple above his
lips. Ravenously, he sucked it into his mouth and between his
teeth to nibble and bite, causing the slender girl to gasp and
whimper with the pleasure-pain. Below, at his crotch, Madeleine
moaned and began to suck harder, nipping now and then with the
edges of her teeth. His prick was white beneath the scraping suck
and rich purple at its smooth turgid head. He felt her hands
cupping and cradling his balls while she plunged her mouth down
over it from above. Suddenly, he raised his head slightly as he
sucked at Annette's throbbing tit and saw his massive cock nearly
disappearing right down Madeleine's throat. Annette had removed
her hand and was dipping it into the moistened slit between her
own legs.
Momentarily, Shannon's eyes fell on Launcelot standing erect
at the foot of the bed, watching and whimpering as his great tail
wagged back and forth. Fuck you, hound, he thought wildly. Go
get your own bitches!
Madeleine's tongue, with that final swiping lick, was making
the glans vibrate and pulse maddeningly. He watched her face
stuffed with his cock, working over him hungrily, her lips being
pulled out grotesquely, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked in
wanton delight ... and suddenly, she stopped.
"What the hell!" he gasped. "What're you stopping for,
damnit ...?"
Madeleine smiled as she raised her head, tossing her long
blonde-tinted hair back over her shoulders. "To try something
else, Cheri!" she said scurrying to her knees beside him, and
Annette raised in like fashion on the other side. "I have an idea
... as well as a wild desire to have it another way, my Shannon?
Will you let me do as I want ...?"
"Damn ... I don't care what you do ... but do something
before I come unglued," he said, the pressure she had sucked into
being causing his balls to throb and his prick to jerk achingly.
"Oui, Cheri!" Madeleine nodded enthusiastically. "I want it
in my backside ... may I ...?"
"Oh ..." Annette gasped at the mere mention of the other's
desire. "Oui ... Oui ... let me help, Cherie."
Wild spasms of lust twisted salaciously in Shannon's brain.
"All right," he said. "But I'm not moving. The two of you can
work it out your own way while I just lay here like some big fat
potentate. How's that suit your fancy?"
"And we'll be your slaves!" cried Annette excitedly,
delighted with the lewd and masochistic theme their private little
orgy was taking.
"I'll just dictate," said Shannon, grinning.
"Oui oui!" agreed Madeleine. "So ... what do we do first,
Master?"
Annette tittered, her flesh tingling feverishly at the sound
of the title Madeleine had used.
"Okay ... Madeleine, you get on your hands and knees so that
Annette can lick your tight little asshole and prepare it. How's
that for starters?"
Madeleine gave a little shudder of delight and quickly moved
around in the bed to do as she was ordered, while Annette got to
her knees behind her more hesitantly, her brain whirling with the
lascivious sensations his obscene command had instigated within
her. She had never done such a thing ... to perform the act on a
man was one thing, but upon a woman ... she wondered if she could
do it ... and Madeleine waggled her round white buttocks
expectantly back toward where she knelt.
They were beautiful, ovalled, white moon-shaped buttocks, and
Annette could see the hairless, puckered brown opening as the
lovely girl lowered her shoulders to the bed, thrusting the
enchanting area back at her. Annette's eyes lowered to the long
coral slit of her cunt with its hair-lined lips only partially
opened, and she could see the enticing pink flesh within. Small,
sparkling droplets of viscous fluid clung to the thin fleecy lips
... and suddenly she sensed herself moving forward as if being
drawn by a magnet ... until the musky-perfumed scent stung her
nostrils pleasingly and she lashed out with her tongue, going down
deep toward the voluptuous girl's throbbing clitoris, just as
Madeleine had done to her earlier that night. She found it
enclosed within the inner-petals, her own lips coming in contact
with the silky, pubic-haired folds of flesh as she stretched her
tongue to its entirety, its tip stabbing at the erect bud and
raising a deep groan from Madeleine's throat.
Slowly, Annette swept upward, flicking her tongue tip several
times against the twitching clitoris, then backward toward the
round viscous covered opening of her vagina, plunging in far
enough to feel the rippled walls of hot flesh nibble and milk at
her tongue, then out to taunt her urethra before traveling on up
the satin-smooth vale between her buttocks to the crinkled mouth
of her pulsating rectum.
Oh, Mon Dieu! It's wonderful! The delicious taste of her
cunt ... I never realized ... I love her ... love him ... love me!
"Okay," interrupted Shannon. "Enough of that. Let's get
down to the nitty gritty ... Come on, Madeleine ... sit down on
it. I'll just lay here like any potentate worth his salt and you
slip my cock right up your ass."
"Oui ... oui, Cheri!" exclaimed Madeleine, moving quickly to
get above him with her back facing him in a semi-squatting
position.
While she was doing this, he said to Annette: "Ever lick
another girl's ass before, Baby?"
"No ... no, Cheri," Annette replied, her dark eyes alive with
the obvious carnal sensations it had given her. "But I intend to
do it again ... and yours many many times over."
Shannon pulled her down to him and kissed her mouth hungrily,
running his tongue over her thin lips and into her mouth, tasting
the familiar sweet tang of his Madeleine there.
"Aaaauuuuugggghhh," Madeleine groaned holding tight to
Shannon's long thick cock and both he and Annette watched while
she wormed the turgid rubbery head into the tiny orifice,
squirming and wriggling her squatting wide-spread buttocks in her
effort to skewer the massive cudgel up into her unbelievably wide
stretching hole. Greedily, she lowered herself down onto it, the
grunting little whimpers of torment she emitted charging both
viewers wildly.
"Does it hurt, cherie?" questioned Annette, suddenly getting
to her knees and reaching around to caress Madeleine's full,
magnificent breast with sympathetic, if, masochistic envy. "Does
it hurt beautifully?"
"Ooohhh ... Oooohhhhh Christ," Madeleine cried. "I ... I ...
Oh ... it's horrible ... it's beautiful ... I love it!"
Shannon chuckled in obscene delight as he watched her gyrate
her splendid hips down ... down ... until her ass-cheeks were flat
against his pelvis, and he began to work with her, gently, in an
effort to widen her back passage with his cock thrust hurtingly to
its full length up the tight, hot velvety channel of her
entrancing bottom.
"Christ, what a beautiful ass you've got, Baby," Shannon
said, tensing and thrusting as she squirmed her buttocks down even
tighter to his pelvis, forcing his cock further up into her.
"Ooohhhh, Mon Dieu! It's going to come right out my mouth,"
Madeleine gasped as slowly she lay back atop of him, her arms
resting on the bed at the elbows while Annette stared at the two
of them in licentious fascination.
Madeleine's dark hair-lined pussy looked up at her, its long
pink slit trailing down to her soft white buttocks where Annette
could see Shannon's massive cock splitting them ... holding them
apart ... its thick length buried to the hilt up her wide-
stretched anus, and his heavy balls pulsating before her. She
couldn't, had she wanted to, contain herself and she nestled her
face to the soft, sweet smelling crotch, starting her excited
tongue at the tip of Shannon's testicles, taunting the exposed
half-inch of his shaft not yet swallowed into her, and into the
now pulsating, open cunt and upward, finally sucking the inner-
lips and clitoris into her mouth with a wet little slurping sound.
Madeleine began to raise her buttocks up and down over
Shannon's plundering cock and as she did this she pressed her
glistening pussy, now flowered open with her splayed legs, against
Annette's wildly sucking mouth. Frantically, Annette lashed her
tongue around, over, up and into the sweet, delicious-tasting
cunt, her own passion mounting feverishly in her belly and loins.
She reached down between her legs and began to massage her
quivering clitoris vigorously. Mon Dieu! I've got to be fucked
or something, she thought, and then, she remembered her Launcelot.
"Launcelot ... lover! Come up here, Mon Cher!" she choked,
raising her ass up high, then burying her tongue deeper into
Madeleine's pulsing cunt.
Annette sensed the bed give as the great dog immediately
leaped onto it, raising up onto his hind legs and clasping his
forelegs tightly around her waist. She thrust her behind high and
back, feeling his hard wet animal prick ram and slip against her
buttocks. Again and again it floundered until she spread her legs
farther apart and thrust back her completely expanded crotch.
Once more, it rammed.
"Auggghhhh," she winced before it as the long, slender prick
soared into her, spearing her hungry, moist vaginal walls like a
flint-tipped arrow.
Mon Dieu! Her magnificent Launcelot! He was like a heavenly
sent miracle ... always ready and able to satisfy the lusty desire
of her ever increasing needful cunt. Dear God, she loved him too,
she thought, as she licked and sucked shamelessly at the
delectable wet split before her. She heard Madeleine whimper and
Shannon's throaty grunts, all in the faint background of her mind,
for her lover was hammering her with rapid, pile-driving thrusts
that were reaching her very womb, and the slender cock was
beginning to swell inside her as always. She could feel it
getting larger and larger, filling her entire channel like a great
growing monster ... the way no man could ever fill her ... a
beautiful, unbelievable fucking machine ... driving her ever, ever
toward her apex ...
Wildly, Annette licked and sucked until Madeleine screamed:
"Oooohhh, Mon Dieu! I'm going to cum ... Mother of Christ ...
Oui, oui ... I am ... nowww ... I'm cuuuummmiinnnggg!"
"Pound your ass!" charged Shannon. "Godamn you ... don't
stop now, damn you! Pound your fucking ass!"
"Yiiieee ... Oooohhh ... Oui ... ouiiii!" cried Annette as
Launcelot fucked into her, his animal prick suddenly long, long
... and thick, thick inside her flooding cunt, those jackhammer
lunges never lessening ...!
And then, she felt the animal's stream of hot juices
squirting into her unceasingly! Long jets of it scalding the
inner walls of her vagina, spurting into her womb with violent
force, sloshing against the inner-sides of her wildly spasming
belly, its steaming heat setting her off until at last she wailed
loudly, helplessly.
Time and again she screamed; her release was that great! She
heaved her ass back toward the humping dog's expanded shaft as it
continued to shoot into her with unbelievable force, her thighs
trembling, her stomach quaking, her brain reeling insanely with
the sensual reactions traversing along her spine, all realism
escaping her as she fell forward on her face into Madeleine's soft
open crotch, a deep sleep almost immediately engulfing her.
Chapter 23
Annette's keen mind, once given the opportunity to function,
surprised both Shannon and Madeleine. It was her plan of advising
her father, Gaston Larreau, where and how to deliver the money
that was the most acceptable, the less dangerous, and certainly
quite ingenious. Shannon liked it from the beginning, for it was
in the actual "pickup" of the ransom that he'd had qualms all
along. This particular phase of the operation had always proven
to be the most hazardous, according to statistics, in any
kidnapping plot.
As Annette pointed out, her father was not apt to call in the
authorities; such a move would be entirely contrary to Syndicate
philosophy ... besides, he had a tremendously efficient network
all his own. But she did expect him to try something when the
'pickup' was made; it wasn't in his nature to take such a slap-in-
the-face without contemplating vicious retaliation. Thus, she had
come up with the buoy-boat idea.
A hiking tour of the island had produced an old thirty-six
foot tub with a cabin, anchored in a cove, ancient and in need of
paint, but hardy enough upon examination to perform the task they
had in mind. Shannon guessed that the senator probably used her
as a work craft, hauling rocks and lumber, from the appearance of
dirt and scraps of wood littering her deck. Her engines seemed
adequate and in fair shape, the point being proved when he added
gasoline. There was nothing wrong with her that fuel didn't cure.
The plan, in essence, was for Shannon to take Annette to
Summerton on the mainland where he would make his final call to
her father, let Annette speak and plead with him not to try
anything, only pay the ransom, or else they would kill her. He
would then instruct Larreau to place the money in a waterproof
sack and tie it below the waterline to a specifically numbered
buoy in the lake. They had chosen number nineteen because of its
location, with no islands for approximately ten miles in any
direction. It was fifteen miles from their own island and about
fifteen from the mainland ... a perfect plan.
"You must be careful, Cheri," Annette warned cautiously. "I
have a feeling that mon pere will try something when you make the
pickup ... I don't know what, but we must plan for all
eventualities. That's why I suggest the daylight ... at least,
you'll be able to see."
"Oui," agreed Madeleine nervously. "Daylight is best, Cheri.
Mon Dieu, I wish ... I wish you'd give up this whole idea, mon
cher. We both love you so much. Is it worth it ...?"
"Don't be a fool," snapped Shannon from across the kitchen
table where they all sat over coffee and his unfolded navigation
map of the vast lake. "You think I've gone this far for nothing?
No, Baby ... not on your life. I intend to get that loot from the
little fat czar, every dollar of it ... and with Annette's help,
it can't miss. Look, sweetheart, don't go chicken on me now."
"I--I'm not thinking of myself, Shannon don't you see?"
Madeleine said. "It's you ... and both Annette and I feel the
same ... We love you, Cheri ..."
"And what about Igat?" he interrupted. "You stop loving
her?"
"You know better than that," Madeleine responded immediately.
"She's my baby and I want her more than anything, but ..."
"But, hell," he said. "There's no buts. To get her back we
need money to make a deal with Girarde, then disappear with, and
that's just what we're going to have. Now ... let's forget all of
this quit talk and get down to business."
He turned to Annette: "What do you think he might try? And
how?"
Annette shrugged. "Pere is a scheming man. He'll probably
try to have his men watching from some vantage point or other ...
either in a boat far enough off, or a plane ... something, I'm
sure. But he's less apt to suspect the buoy-tender if we make it
look authentic enough and you perform a routine of it, stopping at
all of them."
Shannon nodded slowly. "I like it," he said. "Yeah ... I
like it."
It was still early in the morning and Shannon took the next
hour checking the old craft's engines to be on the safe side, then
took her on a trial run. Later, the girls came down and helped
carry some cans, lanterns and other gear from the senator's
boathouse, piling them into the boat to give her some sort of look
of authenticity. When they were finished they stood back to
survey their work.
"Well? What do you think?" Shannon addressed Annette, who
seemed to be the foremost authority amongst them on buoy-tenders.
She nodded. "Pretty good, Cheri ... if no one gets too
close."
"She's no speed demon, but with luck it won't make any
difference," he said, mostly to himself, a touch of nerves knifing
at him once more.
"What do we do now, Lover?" Madeleine asked, taking his hand.
Shannon fingered his beard. "Well ... I think it's time we
made a trip to the mainland. We'll take some of those large cans
for gasoline. Then, we'll pick up some groceries, and finally ...
we'll make the big phone call to papa. I've been figuring it out
in my head. We'll allow four hours for them to drive down from
Montreal and another hour to place the money on the buoy. That's
five altogether ... What time is it now?"
"Eight ten," replied Annette, checking the watch on her
wrist.
"All right ... by two-thirty this afternoon I should be able
to start my run. That's giving them plenty of time. Any
comments?" he asked, looking from one to another of his lovely
cohorts. "Good ... let's head for the mainland."
* * *
At two-forty-five that afternoon beneath a scorching sun, the
lake calm with a heavy cloudbank of thunderheads to the southwest,
Shannon brought the boat alongside a buoy. He caught a rope
around the gently bobbing marker and secured her loosely. He felt
a bit silly with his routine since there was nothing visible in
any direction except miles of water, but he followed through with
it anyway. As Annette had said, it was possible that her papa
could have men lying off far enough to be out of vision of the
naked eye, yet, able to see him with powerful glasses. He would
play it all the way; take no chances with this creeping tub
beneath him.
Satisfied, he pulled loose his rope and opened the throttle.
He lighted a cigarette and studied his map. Their buoy, number
nineteen, lay about five miles west. Several more were spread
between, and he would stop and pretend the same routine at all of
them.
The tub cut the water rather gracefully, he thought, giving
off a fair wake. He took a revolver he'd kept secret from his
hip-pocket, opened the cylinder and assured himself that it was
ready. He hoped to hell he wouldn't have any use for it, and
shoved it into his belt beneath his shirt. The old nervousness
and tension were there inside him again, and he sucked at the
cigarette until its fire stuck out a half-inch.
Already, his eyes had commenced to burn from lack of sleep
and the brilliance of the sunlight reflecting off the water. For
some dumb reason, he hadn't thought of dark glasses, but he had
remembered a hat--an old straw panama he had found in a closet of
one of the Senator's bedrooms. It helped.
He half-sat on the pilot seat, one hand manipulating the
wheel, and thought about how Annette had played her part well on
the telephone. She had told her father she was okay, but that if
he didn't pay off it would surely be the end for her.
She had gone on to feign semi-hysterics and when he, Shannon,
had cut in, Larreau had threatened to chase him to the ends of the
godamned earth if any harm came to her. She had performed to
perfection.
All was well. On schedule and functioning smoothly. So,
what the hell was wrong with him, he thought?
Why the qualmy guts and shaky hand? Too smooth. Maybe, that
was it. Like swiping the bottle from the baby's mouth? Yeah,
that's it all right. No competition. Unnatural. Too easy. Not
in keeping. As if he was standing on third and he could steal
home any damn time he felt like it. When's the lid going to blow
off? Jesus! Right now ...!
A plane! He touched the hard handle of the gun and thought
how godamned useless that would be if Larreau's hoods were up
there looking down on him. It was a single motored private job
and it was coming from the north ... the Canadian shore ... right
toward him! He watched it without looking up and made for the
next buoy off to the starboard.
You think the worst and you get it everytime! It was almost
above him now as he came alongside the buoy and caught his rope
fast. He didn't look up, but got the feeling the plane was
circling. Sweat oozed out on his forehead and ran down the bridge
of his nose. Nonchalantly, he proceeded with his act, but there
was a hollowness in his belly.
He wished to hell if they were going to do anything they'd do
it! But that was crazy, wasn't it? Why should they? Hell, no!
Not until he reached 19. He raised his eyes and the plane was a
half mile or so south and flying a course state-side. He sighed
long and loud, freed and poured the gas to her. Dropping onto the
pilot seat, he headed for the next buoy.
Three markers in a row were play-acting, with nothing alive
or man-made as far as the eye could see. He began to feel silly
again, but caught himself with the realization that the next one
was 19.
With an effort, he worked at holding down his anxiety and cut
back his speed, settling down to pull it off professionally. No
blunders ... nothing that would arouse suspicion. He was
servicing the buoys. That's all. And you had to service them
all, didn't you? Make it look good. Just in case ...
Wait! What the hell was that? A lake freighter! Just
visible on the horizon ahead and to the north! So? Nothing wrong
with that ... he hoped. The perfect godamned setup through for
some of Larreau's men! With glasses they could make him out fine.
And if they had a fast boat tied along side ...
Shannon swallowed a ball of cotton. It might be coincidence.
There were plenty of freighters on this lake ... but ... Jesus!
He'd have to chance it! After all, he was only servicing the
buoys.
He brought her in close and caught his rope. Mechanically,
he went through his role, at the same time looking for the tell-
tale line that would be tied just below the waterline of the
marker holding the bag in the water below. There it was!
Excitement prickled his flesh. A half-million dollars! He tried
not to move too fast, and bending down, he loosened the line,
straightened, and secured it to the ring he had installed in the
gunwale for that purpose.
He remained fast until he was satisfied he'd used enough time
to make it look good, pulled loose his rope and made off, still
following the course of the buoys ahead. He would stop at a
couple more before circling and heading back to Hyde Island.
Then, he spotted the boat! A speed-craft she was, and
bearing down on him from the direction of the freighter! He'd
damned sure called that one all right! Something bitter spurted
up into his mouth and he swallowed it back. He dug the revolver
from against his belly and ran for the wheel. Damnit! He'd make
a fight of it anyway!
Coming around, he opened her up, for all the damn good it
did. She felt like a scow beneath him and when he looked back he
could see the bag, a black shiny object, hitting the surface and
skipping, submerging again, then breaking water to repeat the
cycle. Beyond, and still a little north, came the speed-boat, her
bow raised high out of the water and cutting a hell of a wake
behind her. She was coming straight at him and he thought he
could make out two ... maybe three people in her.
For a moment he panicked ... decided to cut the bag loose,
then caught himself. To hell with it! He'd gone this far. He'd
go all the bloody way! He gripped the gun tight and felt the
sweat slime between the handle and his palm. Godamn them! He'd
take a couple of them with him anyway! Jesus! Almost, but not
quite! A half million dollars ...! Beautiful! Come on you
bastards! Take it away from me!
"Well, Charlie, a cool head can't win 'em all, can it?" he
said aloud, then laughed bitterly. A maze of things were running
through his mind. He remembered as a kid how he had always
abhorred the thought of being aboard a sinking ship and how God-
horrible a watery grave would be ... and how his own little son
had drowned ... and how he would never see Annette or Madeleine
again, or any other godamned thing ... He swore aloud and watched
the boat coming down on him. Behind, the bag broke water and went
out of sight once more. He shifted the revolver from one hand to
the other and back again. Wait until they were close enough. No
use wasting the bullets. He had only six, and they had to count.
He could see them now ... make them out. A man at the wheel and
another in the seat behind him ... wearing white shirts and
yachting caps ... yachting caps?
Shannon straightened slowly. The third passenger was a woman
... in a bathing suit. They were beside him now and maybe fifty
yards off the starboard. The woman waved!
His arm felt as if it were made of lead. Both the pilot and
the man in back waved. He could see the smile on the woman's
face! He forced the hand that didn't have the gun up into the
air. They all waved once more and he waved back.
Suddenly, he was limp. He wasn't certain whether he was
going to laugh or cry. He plodded back to the pilot seat and
flopped onto it. Then, he laughed until he choked, and when that
was passed the speed-boat was two miles beyond and going away.
Chapter 24
The storm came up in what seemed to be a matter of minutes,
the cloud bank of thunderheads looming rapidly out of the
southwest to quickly overcast the heavens and burst open at their
dull grey bellies, unleashing vicious bolts of chain lightning
with great claps of thunder and churning up a wicked sea.
Fortunately, Shannon had reached the island and was mooring the
boat in the cove when it let loose its wrath. He hauled in his
booty and ran to the house where the girls waited tense and weepy
with both fear and excited anticipation.
The moment he entered they were all over him, hugging and
kissing him, tears streaming down their cheeks in their obvious
joys at his safe return. He dropped the bag, taking each in an
arm and held them tight while they clung to him, pressing their
delightful bodies snugly to his from either side, their hands
caressing, their soft lips on his bearded face while he sought
their round full buttocks with his big hands to smooth and massage
them there. Christ, it was almost too much that one man should
have it so good, he beamed happily.
"We worried so, Cheri," Madeleine whimpered.
"Especially when we saw the storm coming up," added Annette.
"We were both sorry we'd let you go ..."
"What would we ever have done if something had happened to
you?" Madeleine sniffled.
"Okay, okay," Shannon chuckled, finally working himself free.
He picked up the bag and said: "Nothing did happen ... but for
awhile there I had my doubts ... Anyway, there it is! A half
million bucks, dolls ... all ours! From here on out the world's
our oyster ... and man, are we going to enjoy it! Come on, let's
start counting."
Greedily and with nervous hands, he removed the waterproof
container, opened the valise and gaped at its contents. Slowly,
the girls came in close on either side to stare with him. It
presented an almost unbelievable, breathtaking sight. It was
divided in Canadian and U. S. currency and tiny little gasps of
awe escaped each of them as they studied and touched it almost
reverently.
"Y--You suppose it's all there?" asked Madeleine, her voice
barely audible.
"I'd wager it is, but let's count it and find out," said
Shannon, turning the valise over, emptying the packeted money onto
the table. "Go ahead, you girls start counting while I watch and
catch my breath."
"Oui, Cheri," chirped Annette, setting immediately to the
task with enthusiasm.
Sir Launcelot came up to Shannon then, nuzzling close to him
affectionately. The movement surprised and pleased him; it seemed
that he'd finally been accepted all the way around. He petted the
massive head and heard the animal's whining response. Christ, it
was a great life he had ahead of him, almost too great to
comprehend right at the moment. All the money in the whole
godamned world ... He crossed the room, his mind reeling with its
pleasurable thoughts.
Outside, the rain had increased in its intensity, changing
momentarily into hail-stones and causing an immediate dropping of
temperature that would produce fog. Shannon looked to the girls
who were working feverishly over the money and wondered if they
had yet noticed the prompt cooling off of the house. Neither of
them were overdressed: Madeleine in a summer mini-thing she'd
brought with her, and Annette in the thin sweater-slacks outfit
she'd been wearing when he'd brought her there, but they were too
busy to pay attention to anything but the stacks of bills before
them. He laughed to himself, sensing the odor of musty and
overstuffed furniture along with that of partially burned wood
from the fireplace the cooling dampness was raising. While they
went on counting, he found paper and chips to light a fire, then
made coffee, all of the time thinking about the wild little orgy
they were going to stage right there before the godamned fireplace
in celebration, just as soon as he calmed his nerves and
remartialed his wits ...
"It's all here, Cheri," informed Annette happily. "Five-
hundred-thousand dollars! Mon Dieu! I'll bet mon pere has turned
blue with rage." She ran to where he sat and threw herself onto
his lap, her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately.
"Where are we going from here, lover? A thousand, thousand miles
away, I hope."
"That far anyway," Shannon replied with a grin. "But not
before I get a bit of loving from you two to show your
appreciation."
"Mmmmmmmm," Annette purred, kissing him once more.
Madeleine came and joined them, sitting her lush full
buttocks on the arm of the chair and slipping her arm around his
neck. She said: "How long do we stay here, Cheri?"
"We'll leave sometime tonight. The storm should be over
then," he said.
"But there'll be fog," Annette warned. "There's always fog
on the water after a storm like this one."
"Maybe ... but I think we can make it all right with the
compass ..."
A loud throaty bark of warning from Launcelot caused Shannon
to jerk erect. At first, he thought the wind had blown open the
heavy door, until he saw the two of them burst through the
entrance with leveled guns in hand, both of them crouched forward
like something left over from a cheap monster movie in their skin-
diving outfits. But the expressions on their faces advised
differently, and from that point he never had a moment's doubt
what was going on.
Both of the girls screamed and Launcelot charged them. There
was an explosion and the big animal went down like a bolting
rhino, blood pouring from his head. Again, Annette screamed,
rushing to the side of the fallen animal while the one with the
still smoking revolver said in French: "Don't anyone even breathe,
eh? Just stay right where you are or you're dead!"
The big dog whimpered to Annette's touch, tried to move but
couldn't. Frantically, she examined the wound to the crown of his
massive head and saw that the bullet hadn't penetrated, but had
grazed deep and painfully. "My baby ... my baby," she sobbed.
"Don't try to move ... lay still, mon cher ... you hear? Lay
still ..." Then, slowly she raised her eyes to the two weirdly
garbed intruders, sensing the contorted expression of hate that
twisted her own slender face. "You bastards!" she spat. "You
filthy bastards ...!"
"Sorry, Ma'm'selle," the taller one said emptily. "He came
at me ... nothing else I could do."
Annette fought to control herself, her brain racing wildly.
She'd recognized them; they were her father's enforcers, two of
the three men, she was certain, who had murdered Ginny Novak ...
Axel and McShea, by names, both ugly and brutal men. In her
peripheral vision she saw Madeleine backed across the room near
the table where the money lay in neat piles, and Shannon standing
beside the chair with his hands raised high. My God, was this how
it was all going to end? Launcelot was dying ... and that was the
fate both Shannon and Madeleine could look forward to now ... and
she could do nothing to help them.
She said: "I--It's about time you got here. What in hell
took you so long? Was pere too busy to spare me the time?"
The tall one called Axel pulled off his skintight head
covering, then grinned hollow-faced. "It took time, Ma'm'selle.
Your father had to figure out a plan. Not a bad one, eh? We
waited with aqua lungs below the surface of the water. When this
punk took the bag we hooked onto his boat and let him pull us
along behind ..."
Shannon felt the void in his belly growing. The one godamned
thing that had never crossed his mind ... someone below the
surface. He'd been too occupied with what was happening on top of
the water. Beautiful ... and that's what made a crumb like
Larreau the biggest crumb in the cake ... Christ!
"This is all of them ... just these two?" McShea, a broad,
heavy man with powerful shoulders, ruddy face, thick lips and a
bulbous nose questioned.
Annette nodded, her brain continuing to whirl. Dear God, her
beautiful Launcelot was dying ... dying! Well ... she wouldn't
have to worry about leaving him behind any longer, would she?
"Did they harm you?" asked McShea.
"No. They treated me well," she managed as she continued to
soothe Launcelot with stroking hand.
Axel said: "See if he's got a gun, McShea."
McShea moved in on Shannon. "Turn around, punk," he ordered,
to which, Shannon responded and he found the gun. Then, he walked
to Madeleine's cowering form and ordered her to do the same.
Twice, he ran his hands over her voluptuous, if, cringing body,
lewdly squeezing and patting her soft full curves as he laughed
salaciously. "The cunt's okay," he said, taking a long, greedy
look at the piled currency on the table.
"Tie him," ordered Axel. "Tie the punk into the chair until
I decide how we're going to handle this. This storm's going to be
with us for awhile ... might just as well enjoy it, eh?"
McShea grinned his agreement. He'd brought a length of rope
with him, evidently anticipating their every move, Annette
decided. They'd planned it well ... and she was beginning to get
the feeling that her father wasn't aware of all their intentions.
She said: "Does pere know I'm here ... on this island, I mean?"
Axel eyed her levelly through evil, lead-hued orbs. "He
hasn't the faintest, Ma'm'selle ... and this is a hell of a big
lake, eh? The best he can do is sit and wait for us to contact
him ... which we have no intentions of doing." He grinned
humorlessly. "As a matter of fact, we've got other plans,
sweetheart ... other plans entirely ..."
"I smell a doublecross," grunted Shannon who was already
bound painfully into the chair, the circulation in his arms and
legs almost completely cut off. "So ... now you're going to grab
the loot and run, is that it?"
McShea straightened from his task, stepped back and lashed
Shannon brutally across the face, splitting his lip and causing
the blood to spurt. Annette winced, but held herself, while
Madeleine rushed to his side.
"Damn you!" Madeleine screamed, clawing at McShea's ugly
face, but it was a futile gesture. Grinning, the powerful man
twisted her about, clamping one arm around her waist and clutching
one full soft breast brutally with the other, raising a cry of
pain from her throat.
"You know what, cunt?" he hissed vilely into her ear. "I'm
going to fuck you ... along with a few other things, and right
here in front of your boyfriend. Now, what do you think of that?"
Madeleine stopped fighting, her eyes fixed on her Shannon's
bleeding and swollen mouth, even as the horrible meaning of her
tormentors filthy words registered. God, she didn't care about
herself, but Shannon ...
Annette bit her lower-lip, forced a smile and slowly got to
her feet. She said: "Go ahead, McShea ... I'd like to watch that
myself."
Abruptly, Madeleine turned her head to stare with disbelief
at the unusual twisted smile contorting Annette's slender,
attractive face. Mother of God! Was she losing her wits? It
couldn't be true ... Annette was actually prodding this foul brute
into raping her ... and right there before Shannon's helpless eyes
...!
"Hey, baby ... maybe you're all right after all," Axel said,
a lecherous, hollow-cheeked grin coming into evidence. "Well, you
heard her, McShea ... skin off that rubber suit and give us a
show, eh? Meantime, sweetheart here can mix us a couple of
drinks," he added, reaching out and drawing Annette willingly in
close to him.
She looked up into his skull-shaped face and smiled
sensuously. "What about us?" she teased. "You and me, Axel ...?
You know, I think we could make it just fine together ...
especially with all that money, cheri ... eh?"
Shannon watched the licentious expression of lust leap into
the gaunt, ugly one's eyes and the way he licked at his dry,
knife-like lips. His own brain was churning hazily from McShea's
stunning blow. Christ! Was she acting ... or serious ... ready
to throw in with the winning side regardless of who it was?
Godamn ... hadn't he wondered that all along? She was a shrewd
one ... with a brain like a computer and the morals of an alley-
cat ... She was selling them out! He watched in semi-shock as
Axel placed both hands onto the cheeks of her round little ass and
hauled her to him, kissing her hungrily. Her arms went up around
his neck and she ground her pelvis against him. The little bitch!
Madeleine continued to stare in disbelief, but tore her
attention from the entwined couple as McShea let loose of her and
began to peel the rubber suit from himself. She stood as if
petrified, then, backed against the table while he shed everything
but a pair of tight-fitting swimming trunks that showed the
massive bulge at his crotch, and then she gaped in despair at
Shannon who was watching helplessly.
"All right, cunt ... hike up your dress and show me your
pretty legs," McShea ordered, standing back with hands on hips and
grinning lasciviously at her.
Madeleine felt a wave of revulsion course through her. She
pressed her buttocks against the table rim and shook her head
slowly. "N-- Never ... never," she hissed. "You'll have to rape
me, damn you!"
McShea's grin broadened. He said: "I don't think so, cunt.
I think you'll be glad to do anything I ask ..." He paused, then
approached Shannon's helpless form secured in the chair. Twice,
he struck the bound man across the face, Shannon's head rocking
viciously from the force of the blows. Again, he raised his hand
and Madeleine screamed.
"Stop it! Stop it! ... I--I'll do it ... anything you say
... only don't beat him anymore ..."
McShea chuckled sadistically while Axel smirked lewdly as
Annette helped the gaunt one strip to his own trunks.
"Okay, bitch ... let's get a look at those long, hot legs,"
repeated McShea.
Madeleine's feeling of revulsion and disgust, although still
prevalent, was far overshadowed by her love and pity for her
Shannon. Mon Dieu! She would do anything to spare her lover
pain! Anything! She reached down to the hem of the tiny dress
and lifted it a couple of inches.
"Higher!"
She raised the skirt which clung to her hips up to the
triangle of the sheer panties covering her genitals, watching his
eyes bug and his mouth fall open.
"Sit up on the edge of the table and open your legs," he
ordered and she did, her skirt pulled high, spreading her thighs
in shamed reluctance, giving him a bird's eye view of the soft
swollen place between, her tight split outlined enticingly beneath
the thin, gauzy material, tiny strands of soft, resilient pubic
hair slipping tantalizing out from beneath the crotch band.
McShea's mouth went dry. Axel and Annette, who had gone
behind the bar, watched with seeming excitement lighting their
faces. Shannon stared blurry-eyed, a feeling of nauseating
helplessness gripping him. McShea began to breathe heavily. He
enjoyed a session of exhibitionism to prod his lust before he
performed. He said: "Take off your panties."
Madeleine hesitated, but only briefly. Dear God, she
thought, all was lost! They'd kill them before they were done
with it, just as they had murdered poor Ginny Novak ... But she
had to do what she could to stave that horrible moment off. She
shivered as she slipped her hands under her slightly trembling
buttocks, grasped the flimsy material and edged the garment off
her hips, down her thighs and over her low-heeled shoes, letting
them drop to the floor in a useless pile.
McShea licked his lips. "Open wide," he snapped.
She spread her legs until her knees were wide apart. She
felt giddy, almost as if she might faint as his eyes locked
lustfully upon her completely exposed vagina, its moist pink flesh
flowered open to him from her obscene position.
He made a grunting, animal sound. His prick had leaped into
hardness inside his trunks as he stared at the open target of soft
flesh in its wreath of silken, black cuntal fleece, her round full
thighs spread open provocatively, if, unwillingly, the creamy-
white orbs of her buttocks showing underneath. Roughly, he
grabbed the waist band of his trunks and shoved them down, letting
them fall to the floor to reveal his long, thick, rock-hard cock
that was hot in his hand and already weeping from the tiny split
at its tip.
Madeleine gaped at it; it was monstrous and it caused her
lips to move in revulsion and her stomach to turn over.
Desperately, she tried to cling to her wits.
"Pretty, eh bitch?" McShea taunted. "Make your mouth water,
maybe?" He chuckled lewdly and began to stroke it as she watched
in utter abhorrence.
"Go on, McShea," Axel prodded. He'd come around to the front
of the bar and removed his trunks. He stood with a drink in his
hand while Annette fondled his rigid prick standing out lustily
from his bony loins. "Give it to her for Christ sakes. Let's
start the show, eh?" He sat down his glass and tugged at the
zipper of Annette's slacks. "Come on, kid ... let's get those
fucking clothes off. I'm about ready to pump a load into you."
Annette managed a smile and quickly began to comply, while,
of a sudden, McShea reached out, grasping the low-cut bodice of
Madeleine's dress with cruel, rough fingers, ripping it to her
waist. She was wearing no bra and her young magnificent breasts
burst into view before him. He caught her by the wrist and jerked
her off the table, holding her as he tore the remaining remnants
of cloth from her, then with a brutal twist of her arm, forced her
to her knees before him, her tear-stained face even with his
thrusting, jerking prick.
"All right, cunt ... suck it!"
Numbly, Madeleine raised her eyes to him in a pleading, if,
useless gesture, then automatically she wrapped her hand around
the sticky, heavy-veined rod of flesh and McShea shoved his hips
forward with a grunt, causing it to skin back until the spongy,
purplish head popped from the thick foreskin, a scant inch from
her dreading eyes.
"Well, bitch? You know what to do with it!" the big man
taunted sharply. "Rub it around your lips, then lick it clean
from tip to balls ... and be godamned quick about it!"
The nauseating thought nearly caused Madeleine to gag; she
was certain she could smell its foulness. Oh God ... she could
never ... but then, she stole a look at Shannon's helpless, bound
figure and steeled herself to the task ... moving forward.
Through sheer force of will, her tiny pink tongue came out and she
licked down the full length of the stiff lust-hardened shaft,
sickened by the thought of her mouth being used as a receptacle of
lust for this vile pig, and the repulsive thought of his lewd
sperm being eventually pumped deep into her unwilling womb. Oh
God ... my Shannon ... my cheri ... what's to become of us ...?
"That's enough of that," she heard McShea bark suddenly.
"Now suck it."
She did, hesitantly, surprised that its taste was not as
horrid as she had anticipated, but merely a pungent, salty tang
from the lake in which he had been swimming. She parted her lips,
opening her mouth to slide them along and over the thick rubbery
head, along the full length of her tongue, the tiny drops of
seepage from it filling the warm cavern of her mouth with its
acid-like, racy piquancy.
Axel watched with Annette's naked body pressed tightly to his
own, his arm around her slender waist, and his long finger playing
down over her flat belly and pubic mound, to ease between her
slightly spread thighs into the moist pink slit of her cunt, while
she massaged and stroked his jutting prick with rhythmic caresses.
He watched with lust-filled eyes as McShea began a slow undulation
with his hips, sliding the thick cock in and out of Madeleine's
obscenely clasped lips with a wet sucking sound, guided by his
hand now ensnarled in her long, blonde-tinted hair. He watched
the puffing of her cheeks as her head bobbed back and forth on the
end of his prick with reluctant subservience, and McShea shoved
the throbbing shaft deep into her mouth viciously. The big man's
grin was widening with each thrust into the trapped face, and she
groaned in degraded submission between his legs. What she needed
was a bit more stimulant, Axel thought salaciously ... and Annette
had anticipated him.
"Why don't you help him, cheri?" she whispered up at him,
giving his throbbing cock an exciting little squeeze. "I'd like
to see that ... her sucking McShea while you fuck her from behind
... the bitch!"
Axel grinned loosely, licentiously, at her. "Hey, you are
bitter, ain't you. Okay ... come on ... you can help."
Annette accompanied him, dropping to her own knees as McShea
knelt, then sprawled onto his back before Madeleine, his great
cock spearing ceilingward. Once more, he grabbed her by the hair
and forced her mouth down onto his rod, while Axel kneeled in
behind her and Annette held his long prick, guiding it toward the
moist pink slit beneath Madeleine's wide-spread buttocks.
Shannon could only stare in half-stunned hatred at their
grinning faces, while his brain still reeled with the shock of
Annette's betrayal. He gaped incredulously as Axel's long,
rampaging prick suddenly disappeared right up into Madeleine's
open defenseless cunt with Annette guiding it, his bony loins
smacking solidly against the soft white spheres of her wide-split
ass thrust back and upward at him. He saw her heavy full breasts
dancing and swaying beneath her as their resilient, smooth flesh
rippled and jounced with Axel's every brutal plunge into her. He
stared in sickening horror at her cheeks bloating and contracting
from McShea's thrusting cock into her face, while simultaneously
he detected that her buttocks had begun to waggle back at the
other cock behind in new and wild little gyrations. God ... she
was sucking McShea and fucking Axel willingly. The bitch was
enjoying it!
In growing and hopeless disbelief, Shannon gaped at the
obscene sight that he could no longer term rape ... for her
sucking mouth was clasped tightly around McShea's ramming cock,
disappearing now almost to its entirety, his balls slapping hard
against her chin with every plunge, while Axel's long pole
pummeled her cunt from behind with long, furious strokes and she
continued to wave and pound her ass back at him with ever
increasing vigor.
The two ravagers were lost in their lust-filled carnal
rapture of the moment ... lost to everything around them except
the cock racing right up the salacious hole before him ... except
the clasping, sucking mouth with the swirling tongue pulling
voraciously at his tingling prick until he could feel the
delightful strain at his very balls ... and lewd flames of
unwanted passion had begun to lick possessively through
Madeleine's veins ... she was fast losing any will to fight
against the overwhelming physical rapture seizing her, in spite of
her repugnance and horror ... she was about to surrender totally
to these magnificent cocks that were so deliciously trying to meet
inside her sensation-filled body ...
Annette crept away ... unnoticed ... behind the bar where she
had helped Axel strip ... to where his gun lay. The three were
too engrossed in their orgy to realize she crept to and crouched
behind Shannon's chair, fumbling with his bonds, unloosening them
and chafing his wrists to start the blood flowing ...
Madeleine, in the heat of her rising, uncontrollable desire,
had become oblivious to everything but the increased forcefulness
of the thrusts pounding into the depths of her cunt from behind,
and the naked hips crushing up tighter into her face. She could
feel the cock that was stiffly poling into her mouth begin tensing
in great trembling movements and the hands clutching her cheeks
grip harder. His pelvis closed in on her until she was sure he
was trying to push his cock all the way down her throat to meet
the other soaring deeply up into her belly. She was near
suffocating, and choked groans of protest tumbled from her lips
around the pistoning shaft only to be muffled by his continuous
brutal thrusts. She heard him mouth an oath and felt him ram far
into her throat, until the tiny strains of his pubic hair at the
base of his prick pressed tauntingly against her nose.
"Suck it, you cunt!" he snarled. "Suck hard, godamn you ...
I'm cuuummmiinnnggg!"
Abruptly, her mouth was flooded with a torrent of hot, white
liquid that raged down her desperately swallowing throat in a fury
of seething fire. From behind, Axel blurted something
unintelligible and she felt his loins jerk convulsively against
the flatness of her upraised, wildly gyrating buttocks. Oh God
... he was cumming too ... and she couldn't ... not yet ... not
yet! She whimpered as his load of hot, swirling sperm gushed into
her belly and she ground her ass tightly back against his pelvis,
her nibbling pussy milking at his spurting rod hungrily. She
fought for breath as she gulped with sensual delight at the thick,
viscid fluid wildly ejaculating from the jerking prick driven to
the depths of her constricting tonsils, and beyond.
It was then that Shannon bolted from the chair, gun in hand.
Harshly, he barked an unintelligible command at them and Axel was
first to raise his head. He yanked his prick free of Madeleine's
still-hungrily clasping pussy and leaped to his feet ... in time
to take Shannon's first shot full in the chest, thudding him
backwards several feet before he went down.
McShea had provided for trouble, never letting his pistol out
of his reach. With a desperate wrenching of his body, he caught
up the weapon and fired backwards over his head, just as Annette
arose to her feet from behind the chair. The bullet struck her
directly between the eyes ... she had never known what happened.
Shannon threw himself to one side, afraid to fire because of
Madeleine, who, with the big man's penis fast deflating, but still
in her mouth, gnashed her teeth together to raise a horrible
scream from her attacker, as she sunk her small hard teeth into
the flaccid gristle of his once-proud cock.
Instantly, she rolled away from the shrieking McShea who was
clutching at his torn genitals, and spat blood from her mouth ...
and then Shannon fired again and it was over ...
They lay quietly for a long moment ... a long horrifying
moment of slow, hellish realization ...
Chapter 25
In a semi-stupor and with the rain drenching them, Madeleine
watched while Shannon dug two wide graves: one for Larreau's
enforcers, the other for Annette and Launcelot, the animal having
died from loss of blood. For a long while they had simply sat
beside Annette's lifeless body, Madeleine weeping and praying,
Shannon silent ... knowing now, too late, that she had not
betrayed them, but instead, had gambled her life to save theirs.
Finally, realizing he could not leave their bodies there to be
discovered, he'd carried them one by one to a remote thicket on
the island and Madeleine had held the lantern for him.
After, they'd returned to the house, undressed and toweled
dry before climbing into bed to warm each other with their
individual body-heat ... and then to find consolation only in the
violence of their lovemaking ... until they fell into an exhausted
sleep.
Much later, Shannon awakened her with a kiss. "It's time we
got out of here," he said.
"Oh ... I was fast asleep. Has the rain stopped?"
"Yes. Come on, let's get off this godamned island."
"Oui ... I'm ready, Cheri."
He reached for her, bringing her to him. "You love me,
Baby?"
"Oh, oui, mon cher. You know I do."
"Yeah ... I know," he said, kissing her once more. "I just
wanted to hear you say it."
* * *
Shannon approached the counter with Madeleine beside him,
Igat asleep in her arms. They had originally intended to take a
daylight flight because Madeleine had never flown before and she
wanted to be able to see everything, but Shannon hadn't wanted to
wait another day, and he'd called the airport making arrangements
to leave that night.
A boy with a two-wheeled cart brought up their bags, with the
exception of the large one that Shannon carried. He'd keep that
one close to him all of the way. He stepped in line, exchanging
smiles with her and glanced at the little round face of the
sleeping child she held.
"She won't wake up until morning," Madeleine said tenderly.
Shannon made a nervous little nod, his own smile tense. He'd
feel better when they were in the air and away from Montreal. Not
that there was anything to worry about now, he assured himself for
the thousandth time. It'd been three days since they'd left the
island and there'd been no repercussions of any nature. There
were no loose ends, and he was confident that the police weren't
even aware that a crime had been committed. Still, he couldn't
help it; he'd feel a hell of a lot safer once they were in Boston.
The line moved and he stepped forward. One more ahead of
him. A feminine voice came over the PA system announcing in both
French and English the arrival of Flight 28 from Vancouver at Gate
7 and people began scurrying about.
Madeleine smiled over at him. He sensed her elation and that
gave him a warm feeling. Damn, he'd grown to love her all right.
It was going to be a full, exciting life they'd all have together,
just as she'd always wanted. The first thing that morning, he'd
sent her over to arrange for Igat, and when she'd brought her back
to the apartment she was crying with joy. It was the most
wonderful day in her life, she'd told him. That's when he'd
decided not to wait and press their luck, but to take the night
flight.
The line moved once more and Shannon approached the young man
behind the counter. "Reservations for Mr. and Mrs. Shannon and
daughter for Boston."
The young man didn't reply, merely looked at him. Then, a
rich baritone voice to Shannon's left said: "M'sieu' Shannon?"
Shannon looked directly into the handsome face.
A hand was extended toward him offering an opened folder of
credentials.
"Julian Forrest, sir ... Inspector of the RCMP. We'd like a
word with you if you'd step over here please," the well modulated
voice spoke while a hand drew him firmly out of line.
Another thinner and pointed-chinned individual had moved up
to take hold of Madeleine, and still a third was endeavoring to
remove Igat from her arms.
"Wh--What the devil's the meaning of this?" Shannon
stammered, clutching tightly to the bag in his hand.
"You don't know, M'sieu' Shannon?" Julian Forrest questioned,
his little smile prevalent. "You're not aware that we have
kidnapping laws in Canada?"
"Kidnap ... what the devil are you talking ...?" Shannon
started, then stopped abruptly.
"Come on, come on, my dear chap," said Forrest. "Let's not
make any trouble, shall we? After all ... a Ministre de la
Gouvernment's child, M'sieu'? You must've realized the chance you
were taking, eh?"
Shannon looked to Madeleine, understanding coming slowly. Oh
God ... no! It couldn't be ...! Christ! He was certain she
would've made a deal with Girarde ... not just stolen the kid ...!
"My baby!" Madeleine screamed. "You can't take my baby ...!"
They led them from the building with Julian Forrest taking
the valise from Shannon. Madeleine continued to scream and fight
them while Shannon walked along in a stupor.
"It's the Girarde baby ... kidnapped this morning ... in all
the papers ... kidnapped ... kidnapped!" came voices of onlookers
as they were ushered to the street.
"Good God, M'sieu', what have you got in this bag?" asked
Forrest puffing as he pushed Shannon into the automobile ahead of
him.
"My toothbrush," replied Shannon, hollowly. "Listen,
Inspector ... the girl ... she had nothing to do with this. I
planned and pulled the whole thing ..."
"Really?" said Forrest, moving in beside him. "Well ... I'll
just have a little chat with her anyway. We're old friends you
know, Madame Poirier and I ... In fact, I owe her a little
something."
"Old friends ...? I didn't know," said Shannon. "But that's
good ... she needs all of the friends she can find right now. You
... you'll see that she's taken care of, Inspector ...?"
"Most certainly, M'sieu'. You can rely on that." He looked
over at Shannon in the semi-darkness, an almost evil light dancing
in his eyes. "I'll see that she's well taken care of."
The End
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