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Subject: RP: Spamhater Decoded: Blackmailed Mother 14
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(Note: I am not the author; I am only the decoder.

If you are the author, please email me.  I'd like to get your name
re-attached to your work.)



                              BlkMthr.zip -- 14/16

                             The Blackmailed Mother
                                   Chapter 14

      The small dressing room above Club Royale's second floor stage was
misnomered; it was almost exclusively used for undressing.  The haggard
miserable wife of Roger Carmel, Lonnie, and his similarly black-haired
young
daughter, Jennifer, stood huddled in shivering fear, icy tendrils of
horror
touching their spines and making their white, firm flesh tremble
convulsively.

      The ride from Stan Lubin's house had been a kaleidoscope of
nightmares,
and both mother and daughter had sat dazed, unable to speak to each
other for
the long, interminable minute it had taken to drive to the rear entrance
of the
club.  Sam Zeigler had sat hunched over the steering wheel, chuckling
lewdly
from time to time, occasionally taunting the pretty wife and her
teen-age child
with obscene comments as to what was going to happen to them.

      "I guess you're surprised to see your daughter here, aren't you,
Lonnie-baby?" the vicious, immoral gangster had sneered.  "Your once
virgin
little Jennifer?  Well, look at her, look at what half the football team
of her
high-school has just finished gang-fucking!"

      Lonnie had stared in utter disbelief as her shocked mind absorbed
his vile
words, and when she had looked over the rumpled pants and stained blouse
of her
innocent naive daughter, had heard the mewlings of satiation and desire
bubble
from the tender, swollen young lips, and had caught the trembling jerks
of
Jennifer's still throbbing, still demanding loins and thighs, the wife
of Roger
Carmel had thought that the earth would open up and hell would swallow
her for
sure.  She had almost screamed with agony, putting her fisted hand to
her open
mouth and biting her knuckles until they bled, her torture-glazed eyes
bulging
wider.

      She had somehow managed to gasp out around her constricted dry
throat:
"Why, Sam?  Why, oh God, why my daughter too?"

      And Zeigler had laughed low and ugly.  "Because it was part of the
price.
Because your daughter was needed to make sure you would never dare say a
word
to anybody not in the know, not in the same world of lust and sex that
you're
in now, and she in turn must save her mother from the same fate by
cooperating..."

      His corrupt, salacious talking had cut through the dream-like
trance of
Lonnie's debauched young daughter for an instant, and little Jennifer
had
fluttered her eyes open for the first time since she had fainted. 
"Mo...
mo..."

      Those had been the only croaked gasps of intelligibility that the
girl had
been able to mutter throughout the whole ride, though she had tried to
work her
mouth, her jaw moving up and down soundlessly as she locked her
tear-blurred,
puffed eyes on her mother's tormented face.

      Lonnie, bitterly grieving at this shattering confrontation, had
realized
that the final point of no return had been reached -- then, that never
again
could she have her baby girl curl up in her lap and cuddle with the
warmth of
love and security without them both recalling this horrible day and the
still
more terrifying night that was surely to follow.

      And as for the night, the gangster had left no room for hope as he
had
driven the large Cadillac through the city streets.  "This is almost too
good
to be true," he'd cackled.  "I couldn't have asked for a better deal if
I'd
arranged it myself, but you have your friends and neighbors, the
Olisses, to
thank for setting this up."

      The evil light in Sam Zeigler's lustful eyes had grown larger as
he had
glanced at Lonnie in the rearview mirror and seen how tenderly she
cradled her
raw, sore, abused child.  He had been tempted to stop the car and turn
around
and watch how the lovely wife of Roger Carmel would react to the lewd
confession that the Oliss plot was more than to simply pervert the two
Carmel
females, that the reason was to strip their husband and father of his
livelihood, and that the one man they were doing all of their immoral
submissions for had betrayed them by fucking the young girl he'd hired,
Kim
Copeland.  Christ, mother and daughter would probably go mad with that
news!

      But Sam Zeigler had plotted the downfall of too many once pure men
and
women to lose control that much; he had the experience to know that
should he
spew out the full details of what had been going on since Roger Carmel
had
first announced the development of his invention might well wreak havoc
on the
carefully laid machinations of both the Olisses and himself.  Lonnie
Carmel
still adored and worshipped her husband, and as long as she thought she
could
keep her sinful capitulations from him, she would do any thing to save
what
little there was left of her marriage and home; to learn that her
beloved Roger
was the true target could very well make her change about and warn her
husband,
sacrificing herself in his interests.  On the other side of the coin,
allowing
Carmel's wife to know that he'd been unfaithful, either now or after the
pictures of him and the Copeland whore were developed, might well turn
her
against her husband in a fury of anger, spite, and jealousy, and she
would tell
all.  That would spell disaster, Zeigler had thought as he drove, for
the holds
over the Carmels depended that the wife and daughter didn't know what
the
husband was doing -- and vice versa.

      Yes, he'd just have to be patient.  The day would come for the
confrontation -- after Roger Carmel handed over his invention -- and
then there
wouldn't be any more reason not to sadistically enjoy spilling the
secrets each
hoped the other would never learn.  Besides, tonight there was going to
be a
confrontation of sorts, for the Martin Oliss plot required that Carmel
learn of
his wife's and daughter's public depravities in an inducement to
cooperate with
the man who had enslaved them.  At this very moment, Oliss and Carmel
were
flying back to Rapier City after being sent for by Oliss' wife, Cylvia,
who
called in the guise of the "detective" earlier that afternoon. Zeigler
had
smiled with self-satisfaction at the corrupting, degenerate plan, and
could
almost picture the husband wringing his hands and moaning, a spineless,
puritanical milksop who'd capitulate to the insidious terms with insipid
whimperings and no more; serve the pretentious Carmel right to look out
of that
window a nd view his worshipped wife and teen-age daughter as the main
performance -- with the help of Big Daddy Sam and his wonderfully
trained dog,
Fang, as added attractions!

      The gangster laughed out loud at that point, and lashed out with
further
invectives at the helpless mother and daughter cringing together in the
back
seat.  "Everything has been a lead-up for to night, Lonnie-baby," he'd
taunted
on, "In a little while the Club Royale is going to offer its special
second-floor patrons the delights of a mother-daughter act for the first
time
in its history, and you'll do it, you hear?  You and that hot-assed
prick-teaser Jennifer, unless you want your husband to find out about
the
sordid sex lives of his two sweet girls.  Those are my terms..."

      Lonnie Carmel had been fully cognizant of her and her child's
exact
position, but she had looked into Jennifer's wooden eyes and had
realized that
the tremendous pressures the girl had already gone through had snapped
her
immature mind like a twig, and that the inundation of lewd, savage cocks
by
innumerable young boys had stopped the girl's brain from coherency the
way a
computer would throw its circuit breakers to halt unrepairable damage
from a
short.  Perhaps it was better this way, she had thought; perhaps if her
sweet,
angelic daughter wasn't able to comprehend what tonight's pagan orgy
would be
like she could be saved the self-loathing and disgust which gripped at
Lonnie's
pain-wracked soul, and her barely formed life might still have a chance
for a
normal, happy and love-filled future.

      "... Both of you are going to fulfill all the promised delights of
your
tender bodies," Zeigler had continued to taunt delightedly.  "You and
little
Jennifer are going to get fucked every way I've ever wanted or dreamed
about,
and you two are going to do it back good and proper..."

      His words had droned on, even after the Cadillac had been parked
and the
gangster had escorted Lonnie and the still mercifully half-conscious
Jennifer
into the private entrance of his night club. Lonnie's own helpless mind
had
come to the brutal conclusion that nothing mattered anymore except to
get the
night's lewd ordeal over with as fast as possible for her husband and
her
daughter's sake, and she had taken deep shuddering breaths as she
mentally
promised what she would do. With each faltering step on the narrow,
steep back
staircase leading to the room above the stage, the tortured wife of
Roger
Carmel had set her mind into a single vow that while she would awaken
tomorrow
permanently scarred with memories she would take to the grave, she would
not
let it destroy her family; that Roger must never know the horrors she
and
Jennifer were going through because the so-called friends they had liked
and
trusted had sold out her and her daughter to this evil maniac.  She
would
protect her husband and, as little as she could, her child too, with all
she
had -- and all she had left was her body.  A body at the mercy of Sam
Zeigler
and whomever he chose to share its secret pleasures.

      She would show him, she had drummed through her recoiling brain,
she would
show him that she could please no matter what he would demand. He wanted
her to
act as a whore, then she would be his whore!  She would suck anything if
he
said suck, fuck anything if he said fuck!  Nausea had made her weave and
clutch
the faded paint door way of the room, but somehow she staggered onward,
holding
onto her child with determination born of hysterical hopelessness.

      The (un)dressing room had been small, like a closet, most of it
taken up
by the huge, white-covered double bed and gold chains which she knew all
too
well.  Lonnie's stomach had churned with the lurid remembrances of
seeing the
young girl only slightly older than her own little girl being cruelly
raped by
an enormous dog while she... while she...  The mental words hadn't come
to
describe her own inexcusable acts, and for an instant the room had
blurred and
she had the distinct feeling that she was falling... her eyes faintly
staring
up at the electrical hoists mounted on the ceiling which lowered the
chain-driven bed to the spot-lit stage below.

       Zeigler's fingers had caught her in time, and his talon-like grip
had
made her perk back to the real world, for his touch had been something
incredibly repulsive to her now; but she had made a promise, and
swallowing
back the nausea which acidly choked her throat, she had allowed the
gangster to
lead her beside the large, rectangular bed, and she had breathed deeply
of air
musty and unclean, with its odor of untamed sex and depravity-induced
sweat.

      And now the lecherous gangster, Zeigler, was rubbing his hands up
and down
his pants in anticipatory excitement, and his eyes burned holes through
the
pretty young wife of Roger Carmel. He said with a hoarse, trembling
raucousness, "The show's about to begin.  It's time you and your
daughter,
Jennifer, got ready.  Strip, Lonnie baby, take those clothes off just
like you
did for me once today, and if that hot-cunted little girl of yours won't
do it
herself, you undress her, too."  He chortled demoniacally.  "Just
pretend
you're home and Jennifer's unable to get into bed herself, and you have
to do
it for her."

      In spite of her admonition to be brave, Lonnie Carmel couldn't
help
herself from moaning with heart-rending sobs.  Tears burst from her
dejected
eyes, and she cried into her hands with long, weeping sobs.  "Oh God
help us,"
she blubbered.

      "Goddamnit, I said take off your clothes!" Zeigler roared in
uncontained
urgency.  "There's fifty people down there waiting to see you two
perform, and
at a hundred bucks a head entrance charge and five dollars a drink, they
want
their satisfaction!"  And so do I, his raving mind continued silently. 
My
balls are as aching as they were before I Sucked this sweet young
mother's
virgin ass-hole today, and Fang is waiting down there as well!  Damn,
this is
going to be one fine night once I get them going!  I know it!

      "Hurry up!" he bellowed frantically, taking his own clothes off in
a
display of frenzied incontinence, "by hell, I'll rip you both naked if
you
don't!"

      "Nooooo!" whimpered Lonnie, but it was her only defiant gesture. 
With
fingers so distraught that they couldn't unbutton her blouse without
intense,
frustrating effort, the now nearly mindless wife gritted her teeth,
reaffirmed
her decision to take the brunt of Zeigler's wantonness, and peeled off
her
garments for the second time that day.  Zeigler commanded that her bra
and
panties were removed instead of lasciviously allowing her semi-nakedness
to
distract the gangster; he was already overly aroused, and the customers
wouldn't be as appreciative as he would have been -- they wanted total
nudity.

      Lonnie stood in the cold, impersonal room with out anything on and
clenched her eyes tightly shut so she wouldn't have to see Sam Zeigler's
immense, hard and glistening penis again or his lusting leer at her
vibrant,
shivering flesh.

      "Now," the gangster breathed, "now your daughter.  Let me see that
tender,
sweet little cunt of hers that's just been gangfucked by all those
teen-age
pricks..."  And like a robot hearing a master's command, Lonnie reached
out for
Jennifer's cherubic body, the miniature twin of her own rich,
blossoming, curve
of breast and thigh. But her daughter suddenly spoke, the first real
words that
she'd been able to manage since she'd been shoved into the back of
Zeigler's
car -- and to Lonnie's incredulous, tortured ears, her tone was low and
even
and bitter with resignation.

      "It's all right, Mother," Roger Carmel's young daughter said
quietly, "I
can take off my clothes by myself."

      "Jennifer..." moaned the tottering, nerve-shattered mother. 
"Jennifer..."

      "Don't worry, Mom," Jennifer replied, her voice now losing some of
its
original calmness, and breaking slightly as she spoke.  "I... I know
what this,
this man wants us to do."  The word man was spat out as if it was a more
horrible swear word to the young adolescent than any foul, filthy
four-letter
guttural.  "I heard it all in the car, as if I didn't know about this
beforehand." She had her blouse off and was unzipping her pants with
unsteady
but determined little white fingers.  "I'm no better than you, Mother,
no
better at all.  Worse, in fact, because I've just let seven boys fuck me
over
and over... and, and I liked it."  Her bluish lips were quivering with
remorse
and shame, and her eyes mirrored her parent's in that they were welling
with
the warm liquid of torment and revulsion.

      "You poor child," Lonnie consoled, her heart wrenching for her
daughter's
broken innocence. "This is horrible, horrible."

      "Yes, but we have no choice," Jennifer said in a whisper.  She
slid her
pants down, stepping out of them to show her firm, young, lithe legs and
thighs.  Zeigler gasped at the salaciously exciting build of the girl,
and his
cock throbbed hard and painful in front of him, but Lonnie's daughter
turned to
him and curled her lip in disdain. "We've got to do it, Mother, I know
it.  It
would ruin Daddy if we didn't, this horrible man would tell him without
a
hesitation.  I'll go through it with you even if it kills us both."

      Through hazed eyes, Lonnie watched her only child slowly roll her
already
sperm-drenched panties down until the sparse, young triangle of her
still moist
pubic hair was visible.  Then, when the gangster so commanded, mother
and
daughter climbed on the bed and lay down side by side, and she beheld
all of
Jennifer's pubescent, slender and curvaceous body, saw that it was as
proudly
developed as her own, and realized in a blinding flash of respect for
her that
no longer was she a baby, but a physically complete woman, one who, as
the
sickening words returned in haunting reverie, could take on seven boys
and like
it.  Jennifer had become a woman in body if not in mind, and could
respond to a
man with all the passion and sexuality of her gender.  And Lonnie Carmel
wept
again at the tragic way her daughter was being introduced to the world
of
physical sex.

      The depraved Zeigler stood naked with his pulsating cock pointing
straight
at them by a large switch mounted on the wall, the control which would
automatically lower the bed to the full, lasciviously waiting view of a
half-hundred patrons below, and fingering the bloated, sperm heavy sac
of his
testicles with his other hand, he snapped out: "All right, you hot-ass
beauties, let's start the action.  Mother and daughter night," he
grinned
callously, "and mother and daughter will start out the performance by
playing
with one another's pussy."

      Lonnie gasped in horror and revulsion at the salacious demand. 
Not only
was he desiring lesbianism, a terrible perversion unto itself, but with
Jennifer, her own child!  She couldn't!  With a face shining with
anguish-caused sweat, she regarded her daughter once again, gulped with
parched, torture-wracked gasps as she studied Jennifer's trembling
breasts with
their dark rosettes and hard nipples and then lower, to the hair lined
lips of
her so recently well-fucked vagina and the dainty pink clitoris nestling
in
their wet, trembling folds.

      "Jennifer... my daughter, my love..." she groaned.

      "Mother..." came the responding mewl of undisguised misery.

      "Damnit, it's either you two make love, or I go to your simpering
prig of
a do-gooder you call husband and father!  Now, do it, you fucking sluts,
do
it!"

      Lonnie's arms went around her black-haired, quivering daughter
even as she
felt Jennifer's arms go around her.  They touched one another as they
were
drawn together by their mutual need, their mutual pain, their mutual
goal,
their mutual familial love.  Their breasts touched and their nipples
pressed
against the other as if mother and daughter were trying to fuse together
in
their bondage.

      With a spasming cry of exaltation, Zeigler witnessed their defeat,
and he
threw the switch. Slowly, with creaking and groaning and an odd,
weightless
vibration, the bed began to descend. Sam Zeigler leaped on the bed, his
eyes
slavering at the incredibly lewd and corrupting sight of mother and
daughter,
Lonnie and Jennifer Carmel, locked tightly in each other's arms.

                                *    *    *    *

      Roger Carmel descended from the jet, maintaining his pose of shock
and
moral indignation and the effects of too many drinks as he moaned his
plight to
Martin Oliss.  Oliss had been most sympathetic during the whole trip,
buying
Carmel drinks in his role as comforter and companion in grief until
Carmel was
in fact slightly tipsy.  He had a hard time playing the part of an
anguished
cuckold, for inwardly he glowed with satiation and revengeful pleasure,
and he
made sure that Oliss, who undoubtedly felt the same mental satisfaction
at the
thought his evil plot was working perfectly, was run ragged with putting
up
with a seemingly demoralized and wronged husband.  If the traitorous
Martin
Oliss concluded that he, Roger, was more of a prig than ever, well so
much the
better.

      "Now... now what, Martin?" he asked in a servile whine as they
entered the
terminal.  "Now what do we do?"

      "According to my private detective," Oliss said, licking his thin,
taut
lips with hardly contained zest, "we can catch our wives with this
sonofabitch
who's been sleeping with them while they're at the Club Royale.  You
know of
the place?"

      "No," Carmel lied.  "I've never been there."

      "It's a sort of roadhouse, not far from here." Oliss made a face
as if he
disapproved of the club.  "Lots of rather, ah, questionable goings on
there, I
understand.  A place that a rat like this blackmailer would be apt to
take
another man's wife."  He curled his lip with disdain, and walked toward
the
baggage collection point with hurried forcefulness.  "I've even heard
rumors
that decadent entertainment is run for a certain type of low-life that
likes
that kind of thing."

      Carmel still wasn't sure exactly what Oliss' final game was, but
he was
certain that to give the executive enough rope would allow him to find
out in
time -- and then hang him.  Kim Copeland hadn't been told by Zeigler all
the
details, for she wasn't in a position to need them for her part in the
lewd
sedition of Carmel -- a debauchery which had backfired so badly that if
the
gangster were to have known of its true outcome, it would have sent him
fleeing
-- so Carmel was still ignorant that Oliss was plotting to show him his
wife
and daughter on stage and then with the aid of his wife convince Carmel
that
the only way he could rescue his abandoned family was to cooperate with
Zeigler.

      Oliss watched Carmel with a degree of contempt that he didn't know
he felt
for the vice-president before.  It was all he could do to keep from
laughing in
his silly face right now, but he knew that he had to wait and keep up
the
facade of outraged decency or he would destroy the confidence Carmel had
in
him.  He was caught a little off guard by some of Carmel's reactions,
and had
been careful to not make any rash, loose moves during the whole trip
back --
and then Carmel threw him another curve when the distraught man beside
him
asked:

      "Didn't you say just now that both our wives are at the Club? 
Isn't that
odd that the guy who seduced our wives would be able to escort them
together? I
mean, that is what you said, Martin, isn't it?"

      "Why, er... yes, yes, I said that, Roger," Oliss stammered.  "What
I meant
was that my detective said your wife was with the man and my wife was...
was
also there, but alone.  That's it. She's alone because... well, I'm not
sure
why because he never said."  He took out his handkerchief and wiped his
forehead, damning the way Carmel could pounce on every word he uttered
even
though so high-strung.  Never seen him this want before!  What a job it
turned
out to be to maintain a hurt, gentlemanly attitude with this prudish
fop.

      Carmel smirked to himself as he picked up his suitcases.  So both
olives
are going to be there, are they?  This should be Interesting...  I
wonder what
they'll be doing?  For all of his feeling that he had the situation
under
control, that he now could pull the strings as he desired, Roger Carmel
still
wasn't prepared for the totally heinous sybaritic saturnalia which would
be
thrust before him when he arrived at the Club Royale.  If he had, he
wouldn't
have been in such eager hurry to go there.


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